He laughs a bit and shakes his head but says nothing else.
“Is that all?”
He blinks, then shrugs. “If you need more?—”
“No. God, no, I…that’s fine. That’s great.” Suddenly, I want to laugh, but I kind of want to cry too. “I can work with that. I want that. And we can talk about the rest later.”
“Okay,” he whispers.
I press his palm to my lips again and kiss it long and slow, holding it there until he starts to relax back into his pillows. When his breathing evens out, I let him go.
Easton will be back soon, and this is not the place I want to tell him that I boned his little brother. Or that I plan to do it again, over and over, for as long as he’ll have me.
Maybe as long as we both shall live.
FIFTEEN
NORTH
Easton comesinto the station around noon. I think everyone’s surprised to see him except me, and the only reason I’m not is because he’s been texting me updates about Leo all day.
So far, no more seizures. Leo’s neurologist came to see him, and they’re trying a new medication. His burns are doing okay. No infections, and apart from the pain, he’s feeling like himself.
I also didn’t get fired. I had to sit through a forty-minute lecture from Camilo about how protocol works, how much danger I could have been in, how much danger everyoneelsecould have been in, and how lucky I was that it all went right instead of wrong.
I forced myself to listen to every word without tuning out because it’s only fair to Camilo, who stuck his neck out for me. Who always sticks his neck out for everyone.
Camilo also knew that this was personal, which meant he didn’t go too hard on me. And it’s why my punishment is washing the trucks and the ambulances all week, which isn’t really a punishment at all. Apart from cooking, it’s one of my favorite tasks. It’s mindless, gets me sweating, and it gives mesomething to focus on for a while that isn’t work, or my mother, or—in the most recent case—Leo.
And that’s where I’m at, scrubbing down engine four with Ozzie, who’s doing details on the rims when Easton pulls up.
He grimaces and leans against a dry spot of the truck. “Wash wench for the week?”
I shrug. “Could be worse.” Pushing my shades up onto my forehead, I squint. He looks a little worse for wear. “Why are you here? Didn’t Cam give you time off?”
Easton rolls his eyes. “Mm. And I’d be at the hospital, but Leo kicked me out. He said he was sick of me staring at him.”
“Kind of your thing,” I joke, but it’s clear from the look on his face that he’s not ready for humor.
He swallows heavily. “He really scared me. This is the second time he tried to fucking die on me.”
“I don’t think he was trying,” I say quietly, leaning next to him.
Easton lets out a heavy puff of air. “Don’t tell anyone this,” he says, then glances over his shoulder, but Ozzie’s nowhere near us. “He was in a really dark place after hisIncidenthappened, and for a while, I was starting to worry that he wasn’t going to be okay. That he was going to just give up.”
My heart hurts for the pain Easton is in and for what Leo has gone through. I reach over and squeeze his wrist. “He didn’t though. He’s not the same unhappy person you brought here.”
“I know, but sometimes I worry he’s just hiding it better.”
“I get that, but I really don’t think that’s the case.”
Easton eyes me with suspicion, and I realize I’m on the verge of giving myself away.
“I mean, he’s seemed a lot better, you know? Taking care of himself. Going grocery shopping instead of letting me cook.”
Easton bursts into sudden laughter. “Oh my god, yeah. Yesterday, he told me to tell you to stop making him food. He said he was taking cooking lessons.”
My eyes go wide, and I have no idea why it hurts, but it does. I swallow it back for Easton’s sake. “That’s something, right?”
