Cal stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
Regan hovered at the bed.
Skye fussed with the blanket.
Nate appeared behind Cal holding the IV bag like a war trophy. “I have successfully not killed the patient.”
Cal looked at him.
Nate lowered his voice. “Yet.”
“Out,” Cal said.
Nate pointed at himself. “Me?”
“Anyone who doesn’t need to be in this room.”
Nate stepped back. “Harsh but fair.”
Dylan did not move.
Cal’s gaze shifted to him.
The room got quiet.
I looked at Dylan.
His eyes met mine.
For a second, everything from the trail moved between us again.
Beautiful.
Seventeen.
Forbidden.
Free.
Safe.
A whole impossible mess of words neither of us could say.
Then he looked away.
“I’ll be outside,” he said.
My chest tightened.
I wanted to ask him to stay.
I did not.
Growth.
Or exhaustion.
Hard to tell.
