“What I tried to tell you in the van. When you stopped me.”
For a moment, she looked confused. Then understanding dawned, followed by something softer. She knew exactly what he was asking.
She exhaled a small, shaky laugh and brought his hand to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Not yet,” she murmured against his skin.
“When?”
“When you’re fully conscious. When we’re not in a hospital. When I’m sure I want to hear it.”
“Fair enough.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll wait.”
She moved from the chair to perch on the edge of his bed, careful not to jostle his injured shoulder. “I can’t promise what I’ll say back.”
“I know.”
She was silent for a long moment, then met his gaze. “You’re really not going to give up on me, are you?”
“Never have,” he said. “Never will.”
twenty-five
The doorto Dom’s room opened, and Vivi straightened in her chair as Jude and Libby Wilde stepped inside. Libby moved immediately, crossing the room with the focused determination of a mother who needed to touch her injured child. Jude hung back in the doorway, his blue eyes—the same vibrant shade as Dom’s—taking in the medical equipment, the bandages, his son’s pallor, and finally Vivi herself. There was no judgment in his gaze, just the quiet assessment of a man who’d seen this room too many times before.
“My baby,” Libby murmured, brushing Dom’s hair from his forehead with gentle fingers. Despite being in her late fifties, she carried herself with the same grace and strength Vivi had always admired. Today her blonde hair was pulled back in a simple knot, her tailored clothes replaced with a comfortable sweater and slacks—practical attire for a hospital vigil.
Dom stirred at his mother’s touch, blinking awake. “Mom?” His voice was still rough from the intubation during surgery. “Dad?”
“Right here, son.” Jude stepped fully into the room then, his casual stance not quite hiding the tension in his shoulders.
“Didn’t need to come,” Dom mumbled, though Vivi could see the relief in his eyes. “I’m fine.”
“Dominic Jude Wilde, a bullet through your shoulder is not ‘fine,’” Libby said, her stern tone undercut by the tremor in her voice. She was already rearranging his pillows, checking his IV line, her maternal efficiency something Vivi recognized from her own mother’s playbook. Different accent, different background, same instinct.
Vivi stood, gathering her phone and the sweater she’d borrowed from Tessa. “I’ll give you some time,” she said quietly.
Dom’s hand shot out, catching her wrist. “You don’t have to go.”
“Yes, she does.” Libby didn’t look up from where she was smoothing Dom’s blanket. “Because I’m about to have words with my son about jumping in front of bullets, and he doesn’t need an audience for that.”
Vivi bit back a smile. There was no heat in Libby’s tone, just the exasperated love of a woman who’d raised three boys with a propensity for danger. Her gaze met Jude’s briefly as she moved toward the door. He stepped aside to let her pass, his hand briefly squeezing her shoulder in silent greeting—or perhaps thanks. For what, she wasn’t quite sure.
“I’ll be back,” she told Dom, extracting her wrist from his grasp.
He gave her a semi-panicked look that said he knew exactly what was coming from his mother once she left.
“Coward,” he mouthed.
She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips as she slipped into the hallway, and closed the door behind her. Through the glass panel, she could see Libby settling into the chair Vivi had vacated, already speaking with animated hands. Whatever she was saying had Dom looking both chagrined and loved.
A pang of guilt twisted in her chest. Her own parents had no idea what was happening to their son. Didn’t know their Sabin had been kidnapped, tortured, and brainwashed. Didn’t know their daughter had been part of a heist-gone-wrong and nearly shot. They were probably in their sunny kitchen on the shore of Lake Pontchartrain, her father making his famous café au lait while her mother read scientific journals, completely unaware that their children’s lives had imploded.
Because Vivi hadn’t called them.
She pushed the guilt aside and headed down the hallway toward where she knew they were keeping Sabin. She needed an update, and she knew exactly who would give her one without sugar-coating it.
Tessa was exactly where Vivi expected to find her—at the nurses’ station outside the high-security wing, her dark hair pulled into a messy bun, reviewing charts with the focused intensity that reminded Vivi so much of her mother. The Wilde cousin looked up as Vivi approached, and the brief flicker that crossed her face told Vivi everything before she said a word.
“No improvement?” Vivi asked, her stomach already sinking.
