“You should get checked,” Emerson said to Jackson, waving an EMT over.
Mason was already being directed by another first responder and led away. Emerson turned towards Dash, grateful that his mate had made it out in one piece. He smiled, wishing that he could drag the man into arms and hold on tight.
“You, too. You need to get checked.”
Dash coughed, the sound raw. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve got cuts and burns.” He paused as Dash coughed a few more times. “And you need some oxygen.”
Dash shook his head. “There are others who need help more than me.”
“You are so mule-head?—”
Emerson didn’t get a chance to finish his scolding. Dash’s eyes fell closed and he collapsed. Emerson raced forward and caught him before he hit the ground. When he’d said he’d wanted to drag the man into his arms, that hadn’t been the way he’d wanted it to happen.
After flinging off his helmet, he checked Dash’s vitals. He struggled to breathe as he realized Dash was in full cardiac arrest.
He ripped open Dash’s shirt and immediately began compressions, staring down at the face of the man he loved, begging him to open his eyes and breathe.
“Medic!”
32
With soft afternoon light coming through the sheers and a soft breeze washing through his bedroom, Dash lay on his side, facing Emerson in bed. A smile stretched over his lips, a sense of peace calming him into a languid state. He could look at Emerson for hours. That handsome face grew more intriguing by the day. By the hour. The deeper he fell, the more entranced he became.
He didn’t recall them coming to his house or if Emerson had spent the night. They never had before, but perhaps he’d been so tired he’d forgotten. Regardless, he sensed they’d enjoyed one another in that bed from the satisfying soreness he felt in certain places. He reached over and caressed Emerson’s fuzzy cheek, loving the soft scratches of his alpha’s beard.
“You’re alwayssowarm,” Dash said, snuggling closer.
Emerson captured Dash’s feet with his own. “Good thing, because you’re alwayssocold.”
Dash rested his head on Emerson’s chest, chuckling. “Can we just lay here like this for the rest of the day?”
“Sure thing,” Emerson whispered. “We don’t have to move a single muscle.”
He kissed Dash’s forehead gently, rubbing his back with a slowly swirling palm.
Dash sighed, melting into his mate, unaccustomed to experiencing such calm.
Just give in and let love happen.He rather liked Emerson’s way of thinking on the matter. Love had always seemed like this elusive thing he’d never find, especially after learning who he really was. He’d resolved himself to being alone, but the alternative waswaybetter. Maybe they weren’t free to share their affections in public, but a private love was still more than he’d ever hoped for.
He smiled, lulled by the steady beating of Emerson’s heart, his eyelids growing heavier. As he lay there, that beating grew louder… and louder… and turned into a beep instead of a swish. Pain slammed into his chest, his next breath in a struggle.
Heartlessly dragged out of his dream, he opened his eyes.
Vision blurred, he noticed a television mounted high on the wall, the news playing. Dash’s parents and brother sat beside him, silent and their faces somber. His father watched the news and his papa stared at his hands. As usual, Oakley read one of his true crime novels. Emerson sat on the opposite side, elbows on his knees, head down in a pose of exhaustion. It took a few seconds to realize he was in a hospital bed and a few more seconds to remember how he’d gotten there. He sat up and the world painfully spun.
“He’s awake,”his papa murmured.
Emerson rushed closer, gently pushing him back down.
“Whoa—let’s slow down there, hmm?” Emerson ordered gently, concern in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Dash fibbed. His voice was hoarse and it hurt to speak. Breathing hurt, too, his chest sore.
Emerson lifted a brow. “You’renotfine.”
“I am,”Dash insisted.
