Then Landon did something he had only ever done once before. He prayed.God, he cried out.It’s me again. But this time I know you’re real. I know, because you heard me. You made good on your promise. You saved her. You saved her, and I don’t know what I’ll do if you can’t save her again. I can’t fathom a world without her in it. And I don’t care which version of her. I would do anything, anything, to save her. My Rose, this Rose. Rose, Rose, Rose. I would trade anything. Anything I have, it’s yours to take if you’ll just spare her. Save her. Please, save her.
Her eyes fluttered, and she coughed, blood now pooling at her lips. Sirens sounded in the distance, and Landon ran his hands through her hair, an action that used to soothe her. “You’re okay,” he said. Because what was one more lie? “You’ll be okay.”
The sirens roared, closer now. “Just hold on, okay?” he said. “A few more minutes. Just a few more minutes, Rose.”
Rose’s lips opened and closed like a fish out of water. She was trying to say something. Landon leaned in. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here. You can tell me later, when you’re better. We’ll talk when you’re better. We’ll have all the time in the world, Rose.”
Her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed. Blood and bubbles and spit. Landon leaned in closer. She choked out the words: “Save her.”
“Save who?” he asked. But he knew. His body would never let him forget.
“Save her,” she said again.
The day that Rose almost died—the day that Cordelia was born—Landon had made a bargain.Save her, he’d begged.If it’s her or the baby, I choose her. Save her.
He’d never told Rose about the deal he’d made in his darkest moment. He told himself it would not have mattered. The blame rested squarely on his shoulders either way.
“Landon!” Poppy’s eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was uncharacteristically messy, piled on top of her head like a bird’s nest. “What the hell happened?”
Things had happened so quickly once the paramedics arrived, he hadn’t had time to take stock of what he knew and did not know. “She’s bleeding,” he said, well aware there were a hundred more precise ways to describe Rose’s situation. “There was so much blood.” His hands were cold and clammy.Save her, she’d said. Like she remembered.
Poppy raised an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you go sit down.” Landon started to sway. “Take my arm, you overgrown skyscraper,before you topple like a Jenga tower.” He was glad to hear she hadn’t lost her biting sense of humor since he’d last seen her.
“Yeah,” he said, dizziness now pricking at him. “Yeah, that sounds good.” He let Poppy guide him onto a low couch, then lay his head back and rubbed two fingers over each of his temples.
“She’s alive, though,” Poppy said, a slight tremor in her voice. “Right?”
“As far as I know.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“It’s not my job to comfort you.”
Poppy pulled her arm away. “You can be a real asshole. You know that, right?”
A man who looked suspiciously like Dave burst through the automatic doors and heaved his body into the waiting room. “Dave?” Landon asked.
“What the hell is going on?” The man looked more like Dave by the second. Sounded like him, too.
“What are you doing here?” Landon asked.
“I called him,” Poppy said.
“How the hell did you get his number?”
“Graham,” Poppy said, as though it were as obvious a question as whether he knew what year it was, or the name of the president of the United States. “He figured you might need someone to collect you.”
Landon looked Dave square in the face and squinted. “Why does Graham have your number?”
Dave had the good sense to look ashamed. “He said he would teach me a few things—give me a few cooking lessons so the wife would think twice about divorcing me this go-around.”
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“It’s not my fault he’s the perfect man,” Dave said. “Besides, you’re the one who introduced us.”
“Great, another thing to add to my list of regrets.”
“Let’s go ahead and table this for now,” Dave said, sensibly. “What’s wrong with your girl?”
