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I was here when Ashley died.
When Raven was here.
Falcon and I made love here.
Though I guess it wasn’t making love at that point.
Still, it was hot and passionate and needy and perfect.
And here we are again, back in this hospital, back where so much of our story began.
Sure, it began at that seedy bar Ashley picked out. Then it began again the next day at the parole office. And again that evening when I went to see Ashley and ran into Falcon when he was visiting Raven.
And so it all began…
We’ve come full circle.
Except we haven’t.
Falcon may have won his parole revocation hearing, and I may be free from Miles McAllister, but this whole thing is far from over.
Vinnie has sacrificed himself for me. Agreed to marry a child. Granted, she won’t be a child when they marry, but Vinnie will be forty-two to her eighteen.
Gross.
But Vinnie’s going to try to bring them down from the inside.
If my grandfather finds out, he’ll kill Vinnie. I already know Grandpa doesn’t value human life at all.
And if Vinnie’s gone…they’ll come after me again.
I will not lose my brother. Not again. And I won’t lose myself either.
Somehow… Some way… Vinnie’s smart. He won’t let Grandpa figure it out. I have to hold onto that belief.
We arrive at the room on the second floor of the hospital, and the orderlies wheel Falcon’s bed inside and get him on the hospital bed.
He opens one eye.
“Hey,” I say, being gentle as I caress his lacerated cheek. “You’re going to be here for a while. At least until the doctors get your X-ray and CT results.”
He nods and then falls back asleep.
“May I stay?” I ask the orderly.
“Of course.” The orderly gestures to a weathered purple couch and recliner on the other side of the hospital room. “There’s a pull-out couch if you want to spend the night with him. Or just use the recliner.”
“I’ll be spending the night,” I say.
No way am I leaving his side.
Not when he’s in here because of me.
God, the guilt.
The fucking guilt.
It’s suffocating. The moment replays in my mind, a relentless loop of what I should have done differently. It’s as if the air has thickened, and every breath is a struggle against the guilt that clings to me like a second skin. Its grip tightens with every beat of my heart.
