Page 77 of Anthem of Love and Loathing

His eyes have shut. His lips have a tinge of blueish gray to them.

My stomach falls. This can’t be good. “Riot?”

Nothing.

I grab both his arms and shake him. Please respond to me. “Riot, Riot, wake up?”

Nothing.

I use my fingers on his wrist to check for a pulse. Shit. Please. Okay. Thank God. It’s there. But his skin is clammy and cold.

“Rook!” I scream as I lunge for my phone on the nightstand. I fall headfirst to the floor, barely managing to catch myself on my arms. A shock of pain travels up through my shoulders and neck.

Ignoring the pain, I get back on the bed while I ring Sam.

Time slows while I wait for the tour doctor to pick up. While I check Riot’s pulse again. I used to carry Naloxone in my purse. Why hadn’t I restocked? Shit. Shit. Shit. “You fucking asshole. Don’t you do this to me.”

Let me hate you. Don’t make me grieve you too.

Rook comes rushing into the room. Service weapon drawn. He stumbles to a halt for all of a second before he’s running back out of the room.

“Yes,” Sam’s sleep crusty voice comes through.

“Riot. He came in slurring. Possibly high. He’s not responding.” His pulse is weakening. “Have you got Narcan?”

“I do.” Rook rushes back into the room with the medicine in his hand. He leaps over the bed. Grips the back of Riot’s head, tilts it back, and sprays the stuff in his nose. “Come on, kid. Fight.”

“Give him a minute,” Sam’s voice is much more alert.

I can hear him moving about. No doubt he’ll be up here in the next few minutes.

“Anything yet?” Sam asks. A door closes.

“Not yet.”

“Do you remember how to do a sternum rub?”

“On it.” I rub my knuckles vigorously over Riot’s sternum.

He starts to rouse.

“Thank God.” I sob. I don’t mean to. It just comes out. I’m not supposed to get emotional over this jackass. I’m not supposed to give a shit about him anymore.

“I’ll go let Doc in.” Rook straightens and leaves the room.

Riot opens his eyes.

“Kelsey?” His brows squish together. He curls his fingers around my wrist, my hand still on his chest.

“I’m here,” I promise. For right now I am here.

“I miss you so fucking much.” He pulls me down on his chest. I don’t have the venom to fight him on it when he palms the back of my head and captures my mouth with his.

I fall into it. Into the pressure of his lips on mine. The slide of his tongue when I open for him. Into the familiarity and long forgotten sweetness. It’s bittersweet. It’s broken promises and unsaid goodbyes. It’s a slow working poison that makes every inch of my soul ache with loss.

I can barely breathe with the intensity of it.

Sam clears his throat. “Sternum rubs don’t usually require mouth to mouth.”