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I tear my gaze from the front door to his face. “Why? Is she not safe enough with her mate?”
Ryder bristles and I push past him, but he grabs my elbow and yanks me back. “Let her be, Jackson. She’s here because she’s sick. She doesn’t need some brute in her face. She just wants to meet her family before…”
“She’s going to die?” I whisper.
My world shifts, the bar twisting and turning around me, and I have to brace myself on a table to keep from falling. Ryder raises an eyebrow and waves to Bob, who pours me a shot of the good whiskey. I down it in one swig.
“She’s not going to die,” I growl fiercely. “I’ll get Evelyn, she brought people back from the brink at the battle. With Rachel? Hell, they can fix anything.”
I suddenly need this woman, Cricket, to be in my life. I refuse to think of her dying, no, it’s not possible.
“Why do you care?” Ryder demands, taking the bottle from Bob and holding it as if preparing to break it over my head.
I raise my gaze to his, a profound truth settling in my soul.
“I’m pretty sure your sister is my mate,” I whisper.
Ryder drops the bottle and it shatters on the ground but I barely notice. From the window across the room I see Cricket pull herself up next to Rachel to sit on the fence.
Her eyes meet mine, and I know it’s true.
Sick or not, that woman is meant to be mine.
* * *
