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“He said… He said you have cancer.”
I shake my head, speechless. “I don’t have cancer.”
Rafe looks relieved. “Told you, he’s confused. Doctor said he might be after waking up, and dehydration can do funny things to your head.”
“Maybe he’s mixing me up with his sister.”
“Maybe.” Rafe kicks at a stone. “Dammit.” He sighs. “Go see him before he falls asleep again. I swear I’ve never seen anyone sleep so much in my life.”
I leave him to his musings and rush inside. As I take the by now familiar route to Zane’s room, I consider Rafe’s words. The doctors warned us Zane would be doing a lot of sleeping the first week. Coming out of a coma isn’t easy. I know that. I know it better than anyone. I’ve been there, and I know not everyone comes out of it the same as before.
The thought Zane might not recover completely hurts like a stab wound.
Stop thinking like that. Zane will be okay. He’s strong. God… he has to be okay.
My steps echo as I turn a corner and see his door. I turn the handle and enter his room, then stop to catch my breath. It catches in my throat.
Zane is alone, but that’s not what shocks me.
He’s sitting, his back propped on a mound of pillows, his hands in his lap. He’s wearing a green hospital gown that leaves his arms bare. The oxygen mask is gone. And he’s staring straight ahead, his gaze not even flicking when I walk toward him.
“Zane.” I sit on the bed, and reach for his hand. When I curl my fingers around his, they’re cold and still. “Rafe says you asked for me.” Sort of. “It’s me, Dakota. I’m here.”
His lips move. His brows pinch together. “Dakota,” he whispers, and I almost fall off the bed.
“Yes.” My voice cracks. Hell, my heart almost cracks with joy. “Yes, it’s me.”
His lids twitch, and he lets out a long breath. “Can’t find her. Have to find her.”
“I’m here. Right here.”
“She’s dying. Have to find her—”
“I’m not dying.” What the hell is going on? I squeeze his hand. “I’m not, Zane. I’m fine.”
“She’s dying.” It’s eerie, hearing his scratchy voice repeating these strange, ominous things. “Everyone’s fucking dying.”
“Well, I’m not.” My chest is too tight to breathe. “Look at me, Zane.”
“It’s cancer. Not looking good. Must tell her I know, and it doesn’t matter. Fuck, it doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving her. I’m staying. I’m—”
“Zane!” I grab his face in both my hands and turn it toward me. “I said I’m not dying. I’m not sick. Can you hear me?”
He blinks and frowns. “She can’t die.” His dark eyes shimmer with the sudden sheen of tears. “I love her.”
My heart flips over in my chest. God, he really thinks I’m dying, and… and he loves me?
“I’m not sick,” I say, my voice choked. “Why do you think that I…?”
“I got the message,” he whispers, his frown deepening.
What message? There must be something I can do to snap him out of this daze. I’ve drawn his image, wept for him, talked to him, shaken him, and nothing seems to work.
It’s time for more drastic measures. Crazy measures. I mean, I don’t believe in magic, not really… But I believe in Zane, and that’s why I lean forward, cup his face in my hands and kiss him.
Chapter Fifteen
Zane
