She thought of Jared every moment, waking or sleeping. His eyes, his laugh, his smile. His voice, dark and sex roughened. The way he kissed her. Jesus. To think she’d been so worried about fucking up with him, and all along it had been something she’d already done and couldn’t change that would be their downfall. She couldn’t win, so why even play the game? This had been her shot, her one chance at greatness. And she’d blown it before she could even get started.
Work and drawing and her clients were her only consolation, but even that was torture because being at Dermamania reminded her of Brian. Still she worked herself almost to exhaustion, catching up on the clients she’d had to ditch on and tackling her waiting list. Brian… God, she’d been such a horrible friend. All this time worrying about herself—what the hell did she know about suffering? As soon as she was finished up at the shop the Wednesday after leaving Jared’s, she drove straight to the hospital.
Starla didn’t know what to expect when she gently tapped on Brian’s door, but it certainly wasn’t the sight that greeted her as Candace answered her knock, bright-eyed and smiling. As soon as she saw Starla standing there, she pitched herself into her arms, and Starla catching her was the only thing that kept the girl from tumbling out into the hallway.
“Hey there.” Starla laughed, relief and guilt warring for dominance in her heart. “Looks like it’s a good day.”
“The best day. Come in!” Candace seized Starla’s hand and dragged her inside the room, where it was bright with sunshine and cheerful with an abundance of flowers—such a change from the austere conditions in the ICU. Brian sat propped up in his bed amid a mountain of pillows, grinning at her as she stepped into the room. In an amazing improvement, the only tube running into his body was that of the IV in his arm. His hair was a mess, his smile was bright, and from the weight he’d lost, his dimples seemed to dig even deeper into his cheeks. He was quite possibly the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen, but not in the usual tortured-love kind of way. She’d honestly wondered if she’d ever see him smile again, see his impossibly blue eyes recognize her again, yet here he was, tough and healthy and beating the odds. Macy and Ghost stood on the other side of the room, both looking equally relieved and happy.
“Oh my God,” Starla choked out, rushing forward to give him a gentle hug, the words coming out a garbled, emotional, run-together mess. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the strength in the arm clutching her to him. All that mattered was that he was still here to hug her—that he still wanted to hug her—after everything that had happened.
“Starla,” he said into her shoulder, when neither one of them seemed able to let go, “I’ve never been so glad that you smoke in my life.”
Everyone broke up in laughter. Everyone except for her, who only sniveled and clutched him harder. “Me too.”
“Thanks for being my hero.” She felt the firm, warm press of his lips on her cheek, there and gone in a heartbeat. And she felt…
Joy. Nothing but pure, unfiltered, unadulterated joy. No wild surging of lust, no guilt-washed yearnings of what could have been or should have been. He was here, he was with his family and friends, and all was right with the world.
“Oh stop.” She laughed, planting a kiss of her own on his cheek and finally letting go to wipe her eyes. “I wasn’t a hero, I was just the first one there. Any one of us would have done the same for you.”
“Well…” Ghost drawled, and Macy smacked him in the chest while Brian gave him a withering look. “I’m just saying. I might have finished my smoke first if I were her. Y’all know I’m playing.” Laughing, he hugged Macy to halt her continuing assault on him. Somewhere in the midst of the happy chatter that followed, Starla caught Ghost’s gaze, and they shared a moment of what she thought was mutual understanding. Of shared hardships and trauma and confusion and lessons learned. She’d seen him that night. He’d seen her. Both of them stripped down to their primal selves, just trying to survive and make sure their friend did too. No matter what the future held, she would never forget the anguish on his face, or his hands covered in his best friend’s blood. And she knew in that moment that she and Ghost would be okay too.
It was so good to talk, to joke, to feel normal. She’d taken it for granted for so long. She’d been such an idiot. She’d been an idiot with Jared too, but today wasn’t the day to think about that.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Brian said suddenly, pointing over at Ghost. “What’s that on your arm?”
Ghost’s dark brows drew together, and he straightened his left arm out, showing the fading purple bruise inside his elbow. “This?”
“Yeah, that. Oh Jesus. Tell me I don’t have a pint of you in me.”
“Probably more than a pint, brother. You know you always wanted me in you. You try to fight it, but we both know it’s true. I thought this was your big chance. Don’t you feel the insanity singing through your veins?”
“Oh, stop torturing him,” Macy said, giggling when Ghost’s other hand moved from her shoulder to cover her mouth.
“You’re lying,” Brian said.