Folk shut his eyes. “I’m fine.”
He wasn’t fine. Nash was right. With every breath his chest rattled, and his lips were too pale at the edges.He’s dying.
No.
He couldn’t.
I hadn’t told him I loved him.
The drive back to the compound was a blur of trying to keep Folk with us. Withme. I wanted to shake him. To force him to stay awake. But he seemed so fucking fragile I could only stroke his wet hair back from his face and whisper loud enough that his dazed gaze stayed fixed on me until the van doors opened at the chapel entrance.
It was still barely light. Ivy was in the main bedroom, giggling with Liliana as Orla and Juana kept them occupied. As I carried Folk into Nash’s room and laid him on the bed, I prayed she didn’t come looking for me. It would kill my baby girl to see her hero like this.
His clothes are wet.
Like magic, Locke appeared with a dry set and a medical bag. “Let’s get him warm, then I’ll take a look.”
We got Folk in dry clothes. While his torso was bare, Locke listened to his chest, grimacing at whatever he heard. “He’s better at this than I am, but something’s going on in there. Maybe a chest infection if he’s been this cold and wet for too long.”
“Pneumonia?”
“Fucking hope not.”
Locke dug an IV kit out of the medical bag and snapped on some gloves.
Folk chose that moment to come back to life and knocked the IV out of his hand.
Sighing, Locke stooped to retrieve it. “You might have to hold him down.”
“What?”
“Folkster don’t like needles.”
The brand-new information—for me, at least—seemed a trivial thing, but Locke wasn’t joking. He called for reinforcements. Rubi appeared, but the notion of him using his massive frame to force Folk into anything filled me with such fucking rage that he didn’t breach the doorway. “All right, Deeky. I’ll stay here till you need me.”
I didn’t need him. I crouched beside Folk and took his hand, my other on his face, trying to be everything for him that he’d ever been for me. Solid. Strong. Gentle. I waited until his exhausted gaze found mine, then I squeezed his hand. “Let him do it. You need it because we love you and we need you to be okay.”
Whether he truly heard me or not, I couldn’t tell, but as Locke advanced on him and did what had to be done, Folk didn’t fight him, so I took the win.
Locke hung the IV from Nash’s guitar bracket. “I’m going to get some oxygen. Let him sleep if he wants to. Rest is probably the best thing for him while that canula is in his arm.”
“What the fuck happened to them?”
Locke dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I don’t know. But they’re home and they’re breathing. That’s all that matters right now.”
I tried to believe him, but as Locke disappeared, the murmured voices on the landing seemed overly loud, and what I’d heard in Orla’s kitchen twenty-four long hours ago was a weight I couldn’t shift. My worst fears hadn’t come true. Folk was alive. But if he’d killed Viktor by mistake, how long would that last?
My thighs ached from crouching. I sat on my arse instead, still clutching Folk’s hand. At some point, I’d have to leave him to take Ivy to school. To be the full-time dad I’d always longed to be. But I wanted to be whatever Folk needed too, and the sensation of being ripped apart was stronger than it had ever been.
“How’s he doing?”
The quiet question startled me. I jerked my head up to find not one brother slipping into the room, but two—River and Nash.
Locke wasn’t far behind them. “Alexei’s awake. Crazy twats have got the fucking bends.”
“The what?”
“Decompression sickness.” Locke hefted an oxygen tank. “It’s way too late for this to help with that, but I’m going to give it to him anyway in case I’m right about his lungs.”
