I’m lost inside a dream. It’s dark—a dark gray mist where things and faces move, appearing and disappearing. Sometimes my eyes are open, sometimes they’re closed. Sometimes I think I talk, but maybe I’m just thinking. Sometimes I hear words, but they don’t make a lick of sense. The sounds come from a distance, distorted and twisted.
Emma is gone. Dakota is leaving, and I need to find her. That’s all I know. All that matters.
I look for her, but I can’t locate her. I call for her, but I can’t see her. So I step back into the dark, let it close over me.
Except this time I’m not allowed to sink again. Small hands press on my cold face, shocking me with their warmth.
“I’m not dying,” a voice says, warm like the hands, a familiar voice.
Her voice.
You are, I think, or say, not sure which. I know you are. I got the message. You’re dying. You’re leaving me, too, and I don’t know how to keep you with me. I don’t believe in miracles.
Her touch feels so good, so fucking good that my breath catches in my throat. Her scent rises around me, familiar, delicious, fascinating. I want to touch her, but all I manage to do is curl my fingers on the covers, snagging them on the thin cloth.
Then softness presses on my mouth, warmth spreads through my lips. She tastes of caramel and salt—blood and tears. Sugar and bitter almonds. She tastes of all the hope I’ve ever held inside me, and I want to believe it.
My hands curl and uncurl. They shift on the covers.
She breaks the kiss and draws back. “Zane.”
I blink. The gray parts, thins. I can see her face, her wide blue eyes. The mist lifts, and reality rushes back. “Dakota.”
She nods and smiles. She has tears in her eyes. “Hey.”
Seeing her hurts. It hurts like a bitch, because I know she’s dying, but it also hurts in a good way, because I missed her. I can’t stop leaning toward her, needing her, wanting to be with her forever.
“What are you doing here?” I rasp, my throat like sandpaper. I glance around, at the drawn curtains and the machines. “You hate hospitals.”
She laughs, the sound turning into a sob. “You’re here. Of course I came.”
I let out a long breath. “I know you’re sick,” I say and my chest feels so tight I think my ribs might break. “I don’t care. I wanna be with you. If you want me to.” I close my eyes. This is like chewing nails.
“Zane. What are you talking about?”
Why is she denying it, making it harder for me? “I got the message,” I force the words out. “I know.”
“What message are you talking about?” Her voice breaks. “I’m not sick, Zane. I’m not dying. What do I have to say to get it through to you?”
My eyes snap open. “Voicemail. On my cell phone. This man… he said the results were in, that you…” My throat is so damn dry it aches with each word. “That you have cancer. I just…”
I just lost it for a while. Went kind of mad. But I can do this. For you.
“Oh my God.” Her eyes go round, and her hand tightens around my arm, her fingertips digging into my flesh. I welcome the tiny pinprick of pain. “Zane, that was my dad.”
Here it comes, the confession. Her dad called me to let me know because she wouldn’t tell me herself.
“I gave him your number because my phone has been acting up,” she goes on. “Oh God, now I understand.”
“Okay.” I’m so tired. I don’t understand anything anymore. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
“Zane.” She’s shaking me. “It’s not me who’s dying. It’s my aunt. Aunt Carolina.”
Her words go through me like bullets, and I jerk. What?
“My mom’s sister. She has cancer. She’s in hospital. She’s the one who’s sick, not me. It’s not me, Zane.”
“Not you?”
“Not me. Not me at all.” She puts her arms around my neck and gathers me close. I let her, limp and blinking, dazed. “I’m fine. I promise.”
“You’re fine.” I have to repeat the words until they sink in. Could it be true? “You’re not sick.”
“I’m not leaving you. Not going anywhere,” she whispers against my neck, her weight sweet against my chest. She curls up next to me. “I love you, Zane Madden.”
She does?
Warmth spills in my chest, flowing into my limbs. My heart beats in my throat, in my wrists, everywhere, faster and faster.
It takes me a while, but I finally manage to reach up and put my arms around her, holding her close. I feel like I’m about to shatter and yet stronger than ever before. I feel grounded and yet light as if I’m floating.
I feel hope for the first time.
I’ll be okay. The doctors say there doesn’t seem to be any damage to my brain or organs, something they were afraid might happen. Yeah, so my body’s still messed up, heavy and cold, and my pulse is still a bit too fast—but I’m much better.
That was a close call, the doctors say, prodding and talking, until I say I understand and that it won’t happen again.
And I mean it. No more drinking for me.
I’ve pulled through. And Dakota is not dying. That’s all that matters. She says she’s not leaving my side until I’m out of the woods.
Well, today I’m being discharged from the hospital, so I guess that means I’m officially out of the woods and going home.
As I’m rolled out in a wheelchair, still dizzy for having been flat on my back for almost two weeks, I hear a cacophony of cheering and shouts. A crowd of people are waiting outside, and as my vision clears, I recognize them. Ash, Rafe, Erin, Tessa, Dylan, Tyler, Audrey. The Damage Boyz.
My eyes sting, but I grin for them and wave like a goddamn king. They break into more cheers and dancing, until the nurses recover from their shock and tell them firmly they need to shut up and get out.
Fuckers. I chuckle to myself as I’m led out into the parking lot. It’s so… normal, hearing them cursing and talking as they follow. So good. They’re my family.
Family. I think of Emma, and my grin vanishes as the pain of her death strikes me again. I suppose, with time, thinking of her will get easier. It won’t feel like a knife twisting in my gut.
I’m thankful for Dakota’s small, low car as I’m lifted out of the wheelchair by a strong male nurse and Tyler, who steps in before I faceplant on the parking lot concrete. Can’t imagine climbing up into my truck right now.
Who knew just a few days spent in a coma can fuck you up like that? Even though I’m reassured my body and brain are catching up just fine, my head swims and my muscles tremble just from the effort of getting into the car. I’m tucked and buckled in like a damn kid, and when my eyes clear again, I see Erin and Tyler cram themselves in the backseat of the car.
I lift a brow at them through the rearview mirror. “Your car broke down?”
Erin swats my shoulder. “We’re going home with you. The others are coming, too.”
“Didn’t know we were all moving in together,” I drawl. “Sounds like fun.”
“Shut up, silly.” Erin laughs. “We just want to see you settled in. You need someone to look after you.”
I want to tell them I’m not an invalid, when Dakota slides behind the wheel and buckles herself in.
“He already has a roommate,” she says, and winks at me. “I passed the test, didn’t I?”