Page 83

“How?” I croaked. One word was all I could manage.

“You hit his arm. Forced the gun down when he fired.” Seb’s hand tightened on mine. “The bullet grazed your thigh.”

Oh, god, I remembered that. Did I still have a leg? I couldn’t move my head to check. But when I sorted through the pain, I could feel the specific burn from mid-thigh to knee.

“You were lucky.” There was an accusation in his tone, a rough edge of residual fear. “He didn’t hit any bones or arteries. But you fell and hit your head on a rock.” Seb gently brushed my curls away from my forehead, and I realized there was a bandage there. One corner of his mouth tipped up as he studied me. “I lost ten years of my life carrying you down that mountain. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” I sighed. I meant it. He had already lost too many people he loved. I would have done anything to save him from that fear of it happening again.

He shook his head.

I swallowed and tried not to cry. “Clay?” I asked.

“Dead.” His throat worked. “I shot him in the head before you hit the ground.”

Oh. I didn’t know how I felt about that. Emotions twisted inside me in an ugly mess. Relief that I was safe, that Seb was safe. So much love for the man who had come for me. Sorrow for the man who had never known what safety and love felt like.

Clay was my brother, and that was hard for me to reckon with. So many people had failed him. Maybe if he had gotten help, things would have ended differently. He’d never stood a chance. That was brutally unfair.

“There was nothing you could have done. Nothing you could have said to make him put down that gun.” Seb rubbed his thumb comfortingly along my knuckles, his eyes soft. “His brain was so twisted that he believed you had to die for him to live a better life. You can’t reason with crazy.”

“Are you okay?” I wished I could read his mind the way he seemed to read mine. I remembered what Seb had told Ezra about taking a life. You should feel bad. I hated the thought of all those bad feelings weighing Seb down.

Seb looked like he was truly considering the question. He spoke slowly, like he was still working through it. “I’m not sorry I killed him. I’m sorry I had to. I can live with that.”

It hurt too much to nod, so I tried to tell him with my eyes that I understood.

“You saved my life. Thank you.” With a deep sigh, he shifted closer and touched his forehead to mine, as gently as if I were made of delicate glass. “Don’t ever fucking do it again.”

Something wet hit my closed eyelids. First one drop. Then another.

“I love you, Lila. I love you so fucking much. Don’t make me stay in this world without you. Promise me. I need you, baby.” His voice cracked with emotion.

We were here again. Pressure built in my chest, in my throat, choking me. He was going to leave. Seeing me in the hospital again, nearly losing me—it was all too much for him, and he was going to leave.

“Take me home.” My fingers wove into his shirt, and I clung to him. “Please, Seb. Can’t we just go home?”

“Not yet.” He brushed his tears from my face and kissed my eyelids. “Doctors want you here for one more night. You had convulsions earlier, and they want to make sure it’s not going to happen again. I know it sucks being here, but I brought you a couple things to make you more comfortable.”

He pushed to stand, and I was too weak to stop him. A bag sat on the table across from the bed, and he went through it item by item, holding each one up for me to approve. “Lip balm because the air in here is dry as fuck. Fresh underwear and clothes. Your special shampoo and your silk bonnet.” He grinned. “I’m getting pretty good at being a hospital husband.”

The joke landed like a grenade to my chest. Wreckage everywhere. He had been like this before, after my rock climbing accident. Telling jokes, making sure I was comfortable, taking care of my every need.

And then…he’d left.

It was like I was in a time loop, unable to break free.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket with a frown. “That’s Rhett. I’ll call him back in a minute.” He uncapped the lip balm as he moved toward me. “Hold still.” He swiped it carefully across my lips, then kissed me softly. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

My eyes watered. “Please don’t go,” I whispered.

“I’m not leaving the hospital. Just going to call my brother, and then I’ll be right here with you.”

Three years ago, I would have believed him.

But now I knew better.

Nothing hurt. There was something wrong about that. A niggling feeling that maybe I should be in pain, considering the circumstances. But I couldn’t quite remember what the circumstances were, and the worry floated away.