Wyatt Emory saved my life.
The hardest part should be watching, waiting, and praying he抣l cheat death one more time.
But it抯 not.
It抯 only a close second to my other nightmare梩rying to decide what to tell Dakota without gouging out my heart with a rusty serving spoon.
I抦 not completely stupid.
Yes, I need to apologize, but more importantly, I can抰 crush her.
The text she sent calling me a coward speaks volumes.
I抦 no fucking coward.
Doesn抰 she understand I抦 trying to protect her from me?
Somewhere along the line, I forgot that romantic relationships are a sick joke.
Ma and Dad.
Olivia and Wyatt.
Regina and me.
They make me a worse man. A frustrated, explosive beast prone to outbursts that could wreck my life梐nd Dakota抯 by default.
They抮e a few years of flirting, sweet words, and guilt-free sex. All followed by a shattered lifetime in a tent because your other half gave up on you, leaving you stalking the world like a hollowed-out phantom.
I don抰 want Mother抯 fate, and I damn sure don抰 need Wyatt抯.
I won抰 have that destroying Dakota, either.
I抦 still brooding, staring out the small hospital window, when the door clicks. The doctor comes in, a wiry man with greying hair at the temples. He nods at me.
揧ou抮e a loyal visitor, standing watch like this,?he says.
揘ot half as loyal as Wyatt Emory.?
He sets down a thick tablet on the bedside table, checks the monitors, and takes out a flashlight and shines it in Wyatt抯 eyes.
My friend doesn抰 stir.
I suck in a breath that burns and hold it while Wyatt snoozes through the rest of the exam.
After the doctor punches a few notes into his tablet, I can抰 stand the suspense.
揂ny clue when he抣l wake up??I ask point-blank.
The doctor frowns.
揑t抯 hard to say, I抦 afraid. I抦 mildly surprised he hasn抰 regained consciousness yet. Believe it or not, I have good news.?
揧ou do??I抦 almost afraid to ask.
He motions me over to the screen in the corner and pulls up what looks like a digital X-ray. He points at the two white cloudy spots floating against the faint outline of Wyatt抯 chest.
揟hese are Mr. Emory抯 lungs,?he says.
揙kay??
He points to a foggy bubble on one of the ghostly balloons. 揟hat抯 ground zero, where the infection is being fought. It was significantly worse forty-eight hours ago. It抯 clearing up, little by little, which means the drugs are working.?
Shit.
Positive news has been so scarce lately I almost fall over.
Propping a hand against the wall, I stand and move closer to the screen, taking a good, long look.
揧ou抮e sure about that? I抦 no doctor, obviously, but both of those lungs look pretty fogged over to me,?I say.
揑抎 say the fluid is roughly thirty percent less than it was yesterday in the worst areas,?he assures me, pulling at his collar. 揧ou see the bubbles, but what抯 not so clear in the image is the infection-free tissue, which appears rather healthy. We may have caught him just in time before permanent damage set in.?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly.
揗r. Burns? Are you棓
揑抦 fine, Doc. Damn. I抦 just relieved. This is the first good news in a while.?
He smiles. 揥ell, with the infection fading, he should be on the mend, especially once he抯 off the ventilator. This time next week, he should be breathing freely and regaining his strength.?
揌ope you抮e right. Thank you,?I say, leaning against the wall.
I haven抰 felt this relief since I was facedown in a combat zone, my ears ringing with a deafening blast, and that heap of shit crushing me was suddenly lifted away.
揘o problem.?He looks at Wyatt and back at me. 揌e抯 your brother??
揧eah,?I mutter.
The doctor frowns. 揂ccording to his chart, he was brought in from the streets. When he抯 discharged, he抣l need real care, or he could wind up right back at square one.?
I toss my head, already determined to ensure that won抰 happen.
揢nderstood. I won抰 let him limp back to his tent, no matter how much he fusses. I抳e been trying to get him to move in with me for a while now, but he抯 stubborn as a mule.?I heave out a sigh. 揟his time, I抣l just drive him straight to my place.?
揋ood plan. I have to make my rounds, but I抣l be back this time tomorrow unless there抯 any abrupt change in his condition.?He moves to the door and pulls it open.
That抯 my cue to get the hell out of here and find some fresh air. I head down to the lobby, my mind numb.
When I step out, I think I抦 hallucinating.
A blond pixie rushes over and comes to a dead stop in front of me.
揕incoln??
揇akota??
We toss each other抯 names at the same time.
Shit. I wondered if my silence would bring her to me sooner or later.
This is not how I wanted to have this conversation, but the time for choosing is over.
She looks down, up, and covers her mouth with both hands as she meets my eyes.
揙h my God. Is Wyatt okay? I heard something happened to him, but I didn抰 realize he was in the ICU.?Her eyelashes flutter, soft green eyes misted with grief.
For a hellish second, I think she might cry.
She shouldn抰 be here.
But since she is, I make the only move I can.
揕et抯 talk outside,?I say, placing a hand on her arm and escorting her to the nearest door and the cool, waiting night.
She follows, darting small glances at me as we walk. When we抮e finally outside and alone in the too-bright parking lights around the hospital, she looks at me and sighs.
揑s he...??
揌e抣l be fine. Supposedly. The doctor just gave me an update. He caught a nasty case of pneumonia, but it抯 clearing up with the stuff they抮e giving him. I抦 sure he抣l pull through, even if he had me damn worried for a few days.?
Her green eyes are marbles, reflecting the same worry and relief I know too well.
揑抦 sorry, Lincoln. If I抎 known桰 would抳e been here with you right away. But after what happened at the park, I just thought棓 She stops.
I move my hand off her arm. I need the distance, and so does she.
The only thing more entanglement can give us is death by ten thousand cuts.
It抯 slightly humid tonight, the air thick with tension. That抯 not why it抯 hard to breathe.
How the hell do I do this?
揟he doctor says Wyatt should be a lot better off in a week, so you don抰 need to worry.?I take a deep breath, knowing what I have to do. 揇akota, you抣l be better, too. I meant to contact you sooner. If it wasn抰 for this emergency, I would have.?
揧ou had your reasons.?She rolls one sleek shoulder. 揟hough you could抳e at least texted...I would抳e understood. You had me scared, and you worried the rest of the office, too.?
A soft rain starts. I grab Dakota抯 arm, pulling us both under the awning before I release her like she抣l burn me.
Distance, dammit.
Separation.
We need it.
揟hat brings me to my point,?I say slowly, gathering my words. 揥hat happened last week can抰 ever happen again.?
I wait for her to nod, her eyes glittering in the quiet rain and hazy lights.
揑抳e made a hard decision. All I can ever give you is baggage, Dakota. I won抰 trouble you with that shit anymore.?
Her face screws up in shock. Instant hurt.
揥hat baggage? What are you talking about??She holds a fist to her chest.
揑抦 leaving you alone. You won抰 have to棓
揙h my God! You抮e...are you stupid??she sputters. 揕incoln, I抦 pissed because you stopped bothering me with anything. You verbally shot me in front of the entire staff and then you disappeared. You said we were nothing.?
It抯 like a fucking movie.
Right on cue, lightning rips the sky. That early summer rain turns to an all-out storm, beating the air.
Dakota stares out at the mess and looks back at me.