Alex shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Are you serious? You think I would—Emma, why the hell am I just now finding this out?”
I flinch at the frustration in his voice even though it’s completely valid. “I didn’t know how to.”
“Everyone else knows, don’t they?” He lets out a bitter laugh, palming his face. “Of course they do. I’m always the last to know when it comes to you.”
“Alex.”
His gaze snaps to mine. There’s no anger in his eyes, it’s something else entirely. It’shurt—real, deep, gut-wrenching hurt. “Do you have any idea what it felt like when I found out in the hospital that you were in heart failure? When Cam told me? And now you’re on the transplant list?” His voice drops lower.
“I can’t be a burden on your life, Alex. It’s not fair.”
“I don’t care what is or isn’t fair, Em. I’m not going to leave you. Not now or ever. Transplant or not, I will be right by your side.”
Tears prick at my eyes, and I hate that I made him feel this way. “I’m scared,” I whisper. “Of what it means… of dying.”
His face softens instantly as he reaches for me, pulling my body against his chest. I let him hold me. I let him be the steady thing I need right now.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs into my hair. “Do you hear me?”
I nod against his chest, but deep down, I don’t know if that’s a promise either of us can keep.
28
ALEX
I’m still holding Emma in the kitchen, her body pressed against mine, but my mind is spinning.
She’s on the transplant list.
She needs a new heart.
She’s dying.
The weight of it crashes down on me all at once. I tighten my hold on her, afraid that if I let go, she’ll slip right through my fingers. The thought of her not getting a heart in time, of losing her, likeactuallylosing her, it fucking guts me.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, yanking me out of my thoughts. I pull it out and see Cam’s name on the screen.
Cam
Meet me at the bar. 10 minutes.
I sigh and type out a quick response.
Busy.
His message back comes almostinstantly.
Cam
I don’t give a fuck. Be there.
I stare at the message. Something’s wrong, or worse, heknowssomething.
Emma watches me, concern flickering across her face. “What is it?”
“Cam. He wants to meet me at the bar in ten.”
Her brows pull together. “Do you think he knows you stayed the night?”
