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I shake myself out of the dread that keeps rising like an out-of-control cake. “Jacob’s here.”
Gabriel tries to sit up, his hand gripping mine, but his jaw locks and he settles back against the pillow. I called Jacob from his phone, which was still in his pocket after he jumped. “I don’t want him to think I’m hurt.”
“Youarehurt.” I put my other hand over his. “You don’t have to hide it.”
He looks at me, but it takes a beat too long for his eyes to reach my face. Gabriel blinks. Blinks again. Pain flashes across his face, then frustration, then exhaustion. “You’re talking about the fall?”
“Yes. That’s all I meant.” A layer of icy weight settles at the pit of my stomach. The other thing they checked for was a concussion. Gabriel definitely has one. And…he must’ve thought I was talking about the past. I run my palm over his scraped knuckles.
Jacob reaches the doorway, and his face falls. “Jesus Christ.” He hurries to the side of Gabriel’s bed and takes his other hand. “What the hell happened?”
“Bettencourt.” Gabriel squeezes Jacob’s hand.
“Bettencourt? Because of the ceremony?”
A stifled cough. “He hated me for the ceremony. But it’s more than that.”
Jacob’s eyes flicker to mine. “How much more?”
Gabriel sets his jaw. “He didn’t just—” He takes a slow, deep breath. “Fuck us over on the insurance money when my parents died. He had someone set the fire.”
This takes a few beats to sink in. Jacob’s face flushes. “With the intention of…”
“Yes.” What Jacob didn’t say waskilling your parents.I’m sure Gabriel doesn’t want him to say it out loud. “That’s what the consortium does.”
“So he lights fires.” Jacob’s voice shows a tiny hint of strain. “And he came after you.”
“I’m okay.”
A short laugh from Jacob. “Youwouldsay that when you look like this.”
Gabriel narrows his eyes. “You don’t think I look good?”
He looks pale, and unsteady, and hurt. That’s how he looks. Nothing like the Gabriel I met at the Hamilton Ball. That night, he was color and heat and danger. In the hospital bed, he’s a shadow.
A good-looking shadow, though.
“Jesus, handsome, you look great. You didn’t have to leap out of a building to get me to say it.” A pang of jealousy skates across my chest at the nickname. Maybe Jacob feels it too, because he clears his throat, puts Gabriel’s hand gently on the blankets, and shifts back a little. He’s shaken, his eyes bright like he recently blinked back tears, a kink in his hair from grabbing at it.
Gabriel holds my hand tighter. “I’ll be okay.”
Jacob glances over the bed. I wasn’t planning to feel any empathy for him, but I get it. The lack of broken bones seems too good to be true. He nods to himself, then looks between me and Gabriel.
“Elise. Hello. Sorry about the lack of greeting before.”
Empathy doesn’t mean I have to trust him. “I’m not worried about greetings. We have other problems.”
Jacob’s brow furrows. I don’t love having empathy for this, too. The world shouldn’t keep piling on emergencies when the man you love is injured. “You mentioned something about your sister.”
“Bettencourt has her.” Gabriel’s breath catches, and it starts a coughing fit that has to hurt. I put my arm around his shoulders to steady him so his abs don’t have to do all the work and wait for it to subside. Jacob watches, face set, obviously prepared to summon a hundred nurses, if necessary. The fit tapers, and Gabriel leans back on the pillows. “I don’t recommend breathing smoke, if you can help it.”
“They have things to help with that.” Jacob’s tone is mildly scolding. “I’m thinking of oxygen, for one.”
Gabriel ignores this. I choose not to mention that he tore off the oxygen mask the minute the nurses stepped away after they brought him back from the scans. “Bettencourt has Catherine locked up in her room at the house.”
Jacob glances at me. “Locked up?”
“She’s essentially a prisoner.” I had to come here for Gabriel, but I feel every second that Catherine has to wait. “My youngest sister came to tell me. She’s here, so she’s…she’s fine. It’s just Catherine.”
