Toward the Village.
The message landed in a heartbeat.
Later.
It wasn’t enough.
Right now, it was going to have to be.
Luka
During the busride back to the Village, I kept seeing Dean’s face in the corridor.
The color gone from it. The way he had gripped the railing. The look in his eyes when he ended the call.
By the time I reached the residential building, my pulse was so high it felt like another competition warm-up. I barely rememberedcrossing the lobby. I knew Mila had spoken before we separated for the elevators, something gentle and cautionary, but the words hadn’t stayed with me.
The hallway outside his room was quiet when I reached it. His door opened almost immediately, and he stood there in sweatpants and a Team USA shirt, damp hair curling at the brow.
He looks exhausted.
I forgot every careful thing I’d planned to say.
“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet.
That was all it took.
I stepped inside the room the second he moved aside, and the moment the door shut behind me, I turned toward him.
“How is he?”
The question came out rougher than I intended.
Dean blinked. “He’s stable. They think it was caught early. They’re running more tests tomorrow.”
I shuddered out a breath, his gaze on me.
Dean watched me. “Luka?—”
“No.” I shook my head, the movement sharp. “You looked…” I stopped, trying to steady my breathing. “Kvrat…. Dean, you frightened me.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and looked away. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Do not apologize.”
“I’m trying really hard not to lose my shit right now.” His voice came out choked.
I crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed before I could think too hard about it. For a second, I simply looked at him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion around his eyes.
Then I lifted a hand toward him. “Come here.”
Dean stared at me for a heartbeat longer, and then he crossed the room in three strides. The mattress dipped as he sat beside me, and I barely had time to turn before he folded toward me, as if his body had already decided where it needed to be.
I wrapped my arms around him without hesitation, and he clung to me. Hard.
His forehead pressed against my shoulder, one arm locked tightly around my waist while the other braced against my back, fingers gripping fabric as though he was afraid to let go.
Dean’s breathing roughened against my shoulder. Somewhere inside the walls, the heating pipes hummed softly.
