Page 71

He stayed in the chair anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Cassian didn’t open his eyes right away.

His throat felt like someone had taken a bottle brush to the inside of it and his chest ached in a deep, bruised way that pulsed when he breathed.

He could hear Colin and Diwa talking over each other, low and fast, so he opened his eyes to join in.

Colin was standing by the window with Tala on his hip. He turned at the sound of Cassian shifting on the bed, and the worry on his face told Cassian that he had really, really messed up.

Cassian’s eyes burned, and then he was crying, with no run-up at all. A gulping sob tore at his ruined throat and seized his chest, which hurt enough that he cried harder.

Diwa took Tala from Colin’s arms and retreated to the far side of the room, bouncing her against his shoulder.

Colin put his hand on Cassian’s forehead. His palm was cool and dry, and he held it there while Cassian sobbed into the thin hospital pillow, his fingers curling around the IV line.

“Am I dying, Colin?”

Colin’s thumb swept across his hairline. “No, you bloody idiot.” His voice was rough and very tired, but his hands were gentle. “But you’re going to be very, very uncomfortable. First because of the absolute shocker of a hangover you’re about to have.” His palm pressed down on Cassian’s forehead. “Then because I am absolutely going to make you pay for scaring me like this.” Colin kissed him on the forehead, hard.

“I’m thirsty, Colin.” He used his small voice. The one that came out when Colin’s jaw was set like that.

“That doesn’t work on me, Cass.” But Colin’s hands were already moving, adjusting the bed’s incline with the button on the railing, and easing Cassian upright. A plastic cup appeared from the bedside table, and Colin brought it to his lips.

“Small sips, Cassian.”

The water stung going down, but eventually the coolness of it spread through his chest and made the bruised ache retreat just enough that he could breathe without wincing. He tried for a second mouthful and Colin pulled the cup away.

“I said small sips.” Colin set the cup on the table, outside of Cassian’s reach. “Do you know why you’re here?”

Cassian touched the IV line taped to the back of his hand. The tape pulled at the fine hairs on his knuckles when he moved. “I drank too much.”

“You drank enough to poison yourself,” Colin said flatly. “Your blood alcohol was three times the legal limit. You vomited in your sleep, and you breathed it into your lungs. If Ruari hadn’t woken up when he did, you would have choked to death in that bed.”

Cassian bit down on his lip. A smile might set Colin off. An apology might be even worse. He kept his mouth shut and looked as small as he possibly could.

“They’re keeping you in for observation,” Colin continued, “because when you aspirate vomit, it can turn into pneumonia. So the next day or two, the medical team are going to be watching your chest to make sure your lungs stay clear.”

Diwa shifted Tala higher on his shoulder. She was making the clicking noise that meant she was nearly asleep, her mouth working against the collar of Diwa’s shirt.

“Colin?”

“What.”

“If I drank more often, would my body get better at it? Because Ruari drinks whisky all the time and he never has any issues…”

Diwa’s mouth opened. Colin’s head turned towards him at speed, and Diwa’s mouth closed.

“You’re not going to try to find out, are you, Cassian?”

Cassian pulled the blanket up to his chin. “No, Colin,” he said into the blanket.

Colin smoothed the blanket over Cassian’s lap. “Ruari’s in the waiting area. They won’t let him through. He’s not next of kin, and he smells like a distillery, so the nurses aren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat.”

“I want to see him, Colin.”

“Not tonight. He handed a nine-stone omega, who doesn’t drink, two neat Lagavulins and told him to down them. Then he sat there while strangers bought rounds, and he watched you down them. So no, Cassian. You’re not going to see the man who created this emergency tonight. Or ever, if the decision were left up to me.”