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Please don’t let her cry.
“That makes sense,” she rushed to say, blinking quickly. “You don’t need me posing as Tristan’s fiancée any longer. I’m grateful the threat is gone. I’ll keep researching from San Diego and let you know if I find anything helpful with the murder.”
He stared at her. Was she saying … she wouldn’t really just go back to America. That hadn’t been what he meant. Had it? If she wasn’t here, at least he wouldn’t have to battle within himself every second. The torture of seeing her with T and knowing he’d never be with her would be gone. But that was selfish. Kiera needed her. His family needed her.Heneeded her.
“I appreciate that,” he heard himself say in a stiff, horrible voice.
She searched his face for a few heart-wrenching moments, then she spun and hurried out the exterior doors.
Ray watched her go. He should chase after her.
He clenched his fists.
What would that accomplish, besides more pain for both of them?
Ray sank into a chair. And he felt tears trail down his face.
He was strong. He had to protect his family and his kingdom.
But he was an absolute mess without Macey.
* * *
Ray made it through the next ninety-eight hours. Somehow. If one more person asked, ‘Where’s Macey?’ he’d implode. Poor Kiera. Malik had held her in the waiting room like a small child when she heard Macey was gone and started sobbing all over again. She wanted Macey, Lisa, and her mum. She cried so hard she threw up the red cream soda Malik had bought her.
Ray’s gut churned at the memory. He’d let Macey go and hurt all of them. Had he sent her away? Was it all his fault? Why had he been too weak to beg her to stay? Not for him, but for Kiera, for their family, for T.
Luckily, the media didn’t know she was gone yet. From what Ray had seen, they were consumed with T’s near-death bombing and assuming his fiancée hadn’t left his side at the hospital. Impressively, none of the nurses or doctors had leaked the truth.
He’d spoken with Sutton. Macey was ‘home safe’ in Sutton’s words. The man had been very stiff with him. Probably blamed him for hurting Macey. Ray blamed himself, hated himself. It was for the best that she was gone, but it hurt. Would T’s burns hurt as bad as the pain inside Ray’s chest?
He sat next to T’s bed late Sunday night, listening to the monitors beep and whoosh, when quiet footsteps sounded outside. Curtis had left his mountain, come late the first night, and Derek had made it the next day. They’d all been in and out of the room, hoping and praying for T.
Tonight, everyone else was at Steffan’s large home that was luckily close to the hospital. They were all resting. Malik was planning to come at two a.m. and send Ray to the house to rest. Ray didn’t want to leave T’s side. They weren’t sedating T any longer, hadn’t been for almost eight hours. Ideally, he could wake any time.
Looking over his brother’s face, he hated the red, angry, puckered skin. T’s face was swollen—raw and oozy and fleshy. He didn’t look like Ray’s handsome, charismatic, accomplished, teasing, princely brother.
They’d flown in burn specialists from the United States, and the man and woman were doing everything they could for T. There would be scarring, and it would take time, but they promised he’d return to full activity.
The heart rate machine picked up, and Ray straightened.
“T? Hey, bro. Can you wake up for me?” Ray paused, throat thick. T didn’t move. “Please, T. We’re all a mess and we need you. I need you.”
Ray rested his forehead against T’s uninjured shoulder. Like that first night in the waiting room when Macey had walked away, he let the tears come. He’d cried when his mum had died, but before that day, not since he was eleven. T had beaten him in a wrestling match, and he’d cried in embarrassment and swore it wouldn’t happen again. It didn’t. The crying or T winning at any physical match.
“Ray?” T croaked out.
“T?” Ray shot up and stared at his brother. “You okay?”
“No,” he moaned. “Water.”
Ray jumped up and ran out the door, calling to the nurse. “Water! T’s awake and he wants water.”
“Okay.” The nurse nodded and stood.
Ray rushed back into the room. T’s eyes were closed again. Shoot. He stopped next to the bed, wanting to rouse him but also wanting him to heal more.
The nurse came in with a cup of ice. “Let’s start with this.”
