“Sorry,” Logan says, his voice rough. “I didn't mean to scare you. It's just—“ He runs a hand over his face. “Seeing him like that. The call came in, and I thought—“ He stops. Swallows.
“We all did,” Ethan finishes.
For a moment, the three of us just stand there in the sterile hallway, bound together by the same fear. These men have known Kai for years. Built a company with him. Call him brother.
And me. Whatever I am to him.
“What happened?” I ask.
Logan and Ethan exchange a look. “His bike went down,” Logan says. “We don't know the details yet.”
“Come on,” Ethan says. “There's a waiting room.”
The waiting room is small. Private. The kind of room they put you in when the news might be bad. I remember a room like this. Different hospital, different city. The night I lost my parents.
I sit in a chair that's too comfortable for a place like this. Logan paces by the window. Ethan sits across from me, still as stone, but I can see his leg bouncing.
Minutes stretch. None of us speak. There's nothing to say that won't make the waiting worse.
I think about all the things I should have told him. That I'm no longer angry about the GVM thing. I understand why he did it, even if it was wrong. That when he bought me those shoes, it wasn't the gift that mattered. It was the fact that he noticed. That he paid attention.
I think about the night he showed up at my door, bloody and bruised, and how I patched him up and wanted to kiss him so badly I could taste it. And didn't.
I think about all the almosts. All the not-yets. All the reasons I found to keep him at a safe distance.
What if safe means never?
“He talked about you, you know.”
I look up. Logan has stopped pacing. He's watching me with an expression I can't read.
“What?”
“Before the fire. Before any of this blew up.” Logan leans against the wall, arms crossed. “He went to a painting class for you.” A ghost of a smile. “Kai doesn't do things like that. Not for anyone. We noticed.”
Ethan nods. “He's different with you.”
I don't know what to say. My throat is too tight.
The door opens. A woman in a white coat steps in. All three of us are on our feet instantly.
“Family of…” she checks her chart. “Kaiden Rhodes?”
“Yes,” Logan says, at the same time Ethan says, “We're his partners.”
She glances at me. I open my mouth, but Logan cuts in. “She's his girlfriend.”
The word hangs in the air. I don't correct him.
“I'm Dr. Reyes,” she says. “Mr. Rhodes is stable. He has a fractured ankle, two bruised ribs, and a mild concussion. He was wearing a helmet, which likely saved his life.” She pauses. “He's very lucky.”
Lucky.The word feels too small for what I'm feeling.
“Can we see him?” I ask.
“He's been in and out of consciousness. The painkillers are making him drowsy.” She checks her chart. “But yes, you can see him. One at a time might be best.”
Logan looks at me. “You first.”
