Where is Damian?
He should be here. Not Nathan. Unless…
No.
Was he in the building?
My stomach knots so hard it hurts. I turn my face toward the wall. My vision blurs. I can’t stop picturing him trapped inside. That growl in his voice. The way he always puts himself in front of the danger. Did he try to get to me? Was he on his way up when the flames hit?
God, what if he’s?—
I press the heel of my hand to my forehead. Don’t go there. You can’t go there. Not until you know. But no one’s said anything. No one’s come in asking for him. No one’s yelled his name.
What if he listened to me? What if the last thing he heard from me was“Maybe you should stay there then. Wherever this nothing is.”
What if he actually did?
The thought makes my skin go cold. I told him to leave. I meant it when I said it. But now I don’t know. I don’t know anything. I’m lying in a hospital bed, coughing up black gunk, and the only thing I want is for that door to open and for him to walk in with that angry, intense look like he’s pissed off the whole world just for touching me.
But he doesn’t come.
And my bakery. It’s gone.
I know it in my bones. Even if they save the building, it won’t be the same. I saw the smoke pouring out of the upstairs windows. I felt the heat under my skin. Everything I built. Every minute I poured into that place. Every early morning. Every scraped knuckle. Every piece of who I was, stacked behind the counter.
It’s probably all ash now.
I blink hard, but the tears spill anyway. I taste salt through the oxygen. My lips tremble, and I try to stop them, but I can’t. I turn toward the wall and let the tears come.
Someone clears their throat. I must have fallen asleep. I blink up at the ceiling, then shift my eyes to the side.
This isn’t the ER.
The room is different. Quiet. Pale blue walls. A worn curtain half-drawn between two beds. I turn my head farther and see her—Neve, curled on her side, an IV in her arm, watching me. Her hair’s a tangled mess, and her skin still looks gray around theedges, but her chest is rising steady. She gives me a small smile. She's okay. “Is this a hospital room?” I croak.
“Yeah,” Neve says.
We have a room.Oh, God.How much is this going to cost?How the hell am I going to pay for it? The ambulance ride. A hospital room? My bakery just burned to the ground. I have no backup plan. No savings. A knock pulls my attention toward the door.
I sit up a little too fast. My head spins.
A man stands at the door. Badge on his chest. Dark blue uniform. A notepad in one hand. A voice that cuts through everything. “How are you doing?”
It takes me a second to answer. My mouth is dry. My tongue feels thick. “Okay, I guess,” I say finally. It barely comes out.
“I’m Officer Callahan.” He glances at Neve, then back at me. “I know it’s been a rough morning, but are you up to answering a few questions?”
My brain fumbles. My body wants to lie down again, pretend none of this is real. But it is. He’s here. It happened. There was a fire.
The officer steps closer, notepad ready, but before I can get a single word out, Nathan speaks. “She owns the bakery,” he says, sitting straighter in the chair next to my bed. “It’s hers. I can answer any questions. She’s not really up to?—”
“And you are?” He raises an eyebrow at Nathan.
Nathan doesn’t hesitate. “I’m her?—”
“Don’t say it,” Neve croaks from the other bed. She doesn’t even open her eyes. “Just don’t.”
Nathan ignores her. “I’m her boyfriend.”
