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Lily made that noise again. “The king of England, who else?”
“How’s Blake?” He turned away from the window.
A few seconds passed and then she spoke, her voice subdued and small. “Not good.”
“Ah, Christ,” Jake whispered. He rubbed his hand along his forehead as a muscle worked its way along his jaw. “How bad?”
“On top of everything else, he’s fighting pneumonia.”
“Shit,” he rasped, fighting to keep some sort of control. His chest was so tight, it was difficult to breathe, and Jake paced the foyer, cell against his ear, struggling to keep the dark memories at bay. Blake had been a stand-up, no-bullshit kind of guy, and it made him crazy to think of him so weak and wrecked in that damn hospital bed.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Why the hell hadn’t he picked up earlier? Lily would be alone, because her family was a bunch of self-absorbed assholes that were as screwed up as she was.
Her father was too removed from life to care anymore—too busy with his latest trophy wife and pack of kids that were legitimate. Her sister Eve, a party girl who spent all her time in LA or New York, didn’t give a shit about a younger brother who was the result of an affair with one of the hired help.
Their father had deigned to give Blake his last name, and Jake suspected it was because at the time, there were no males in the family. He’d soon grown to regret it, of course, mostly because Blake hadn’t turned out to be a cookie-cutter version of his dad. St. Clares didn’t enlist and become Rangers. They cultivated a place in office and made the decisions that grunts like Rangers or SEALs obeyed.
“No,” Lily said quickly. “Don’t. You have enough to worry about. I’ll be fine.”
“I can be there”—he glanced out the window again and frowned—“tomorrow some time. The weather is crap, or I’d leave right now.”
“So how’s your situation?’ Lily asked.
She’d always been good at deflecting.
“My situation?”
“Yes, your situation with that annoying little orphan girl.”
“She’s not an orphan girl, and it’s what it’s always been. Complicated.”
“I see.” There was a noise in the background. “Shit, Jake, I have to run.”
It was a voice, a male voice, and he shook his head. “Lily, you need to keep it together and don’t do anything stupid. Where are you?”
“Don’t be such a douche, Jake. I’m close to the hospital.”
He tried to think of someone he could call to go get her but at the moment drew a blank. “What bar?”
“I don’t remember.”
Jesus Christ, he didn’t have time for this. “Lily, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“No, Jake, seriously don’t. I just wanted to hear your voice, and I wanted to tell you…”
He waited for a few seconds but there was nothing. “Tell me what?”
She sighed into the phone. “You have a second chance Jake. Don’t blow it.”
“Lily…” He ran his hands through his hair. God, if she was spouting this kind of sap, she wasn’t doing as well as she wanted him to believe.
“I really have to run. But I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know how Blake is doing. He might get through this, Jake. He just might make it.”
And then she was gone.
Jake stood in the darkened foyer for a long time, staring at the cell in his hands. Fighting the images in his head. By the time he got his shit together, it was so dark in the house, he could barely see his hand in front of his face. Outside the wind howled and the steady driving rain was hard against the window.
He grabbed his jacket and headed outside, swearing as the sharp, frozen pellets hit him in the face.
