I take my time answering, worried about giving anything away. I’m not sure Leo wants Easton to know about us. “I brought him food right before my mom called me over to her place. His power was out when I got there.”
“And he used fucking candles,” Easton breathes.
It was a mistake. One that could have been avoided if I’d been thinking straight instead of being fixated on touching him. But I was distracted by kissing him, and instead of insisting he use anything other than open flames to light up the room, I just left.
“I should have put them out,” I say quietly. “I was in a hurry, and I wasn’t thinking. I’m so sorry, East?—”
“No. You’re not blaming yourself. I know he knows better, but clearly, it was an accident,” Easton says almost angrily. He lets out a soft growl. “God, I am so tired of everyone beating themselves up over shit they can’t control!”
I stare at him, and his cheeks go pink. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry. It’s been a rough night.” He wipes a hand over his mouth, which is one of his tells. He’s lying, but I’m not going to press him on it right now. “I think when I see him, I’ll feel better.”
As if on cue, a nurse appears and stares at us both. We’re both covered in soot and probably smell like fire and ass. Easton’s curls are frizzed and all over the place, and god only knows what I look like.
“For Easton Harris? You’re family?” she asks.
I open my mouth to say I’m not, but Easton just says, “Yeah. We are.”
“He’s awake,” she says. “The doctor is admitting him for at least forty-eight hours for observation, but he’s ready for visitors.”
My stomach swoops. It’ll be weird to see him with Easton there, but I also know the brothers need each other after tonight. Easton’s hands are trembling at his sides, and it’s clear he’s trying not to break into a run as we follow the nurse past the double doors, down two hallways, and eventually toward a large recovery room.
The door is partway open, and I can see Leo in the bed from just outside. He looks small against the railings and stark white sheets, and his eyes go wide when the door opens and Easton storms over to him.
“You fucking asshole!” Easton says, then drags Leo into a half hug, making him cry out in pain. “Stop fucking trying to die on me!”
“Sorry,” Leo says. His voice is muffled by Easton’s chest which blocks a small coughing fit. “It wasn’t on purpose.”
Easton pulls back and glares at him. “No more candles. Ever. I’m going to demolish every fucking candle factory this side of the Atlantic!”
Leo sighs, wriggles his legs, then hisses in pain. “I promise, no more candles. You don’t need to commit crimes for that.” His gaze moves from Easton over to me, and I see a faint rush of color hit his cheeks. “You’re here.”
“Uh. Yeah. Hi.”
He chokes on another cough. “The nurse told me Mr. Baylin made the 911 call.” His voice is raspy from the smoke inhalation.
“Yeah.” I walk closer to the bed, but I keep my distance so I don’t do something foolish, like fall into his arms and kissthe shit out of him. “He got you almost to the door before he couldn’t move you anymore. He’s really sorry about your legs.”
Leo frowns, and then his eyes go wide. “Oh my god. He can’t possibly think that was his fault.”
I shrug. “We all think ridiculous things sometimes.”
Easton leans into me and rests his head on my shoulder. “This fucker might lose his job for saving you.”
Leo sucks in a sharp breath, then falls into another, almost violent coughing fit. Easton jumps into action, rubbing his back, then feeding him a few ice chips before he’s calm again.
When he is, Leo clears his throat and barely makes a sound when he asks, “Is he telling the truth?”
I wave him off. “No. Camilo isn’t going to fire me.” I think. Probably. “I just sort of ignored protocol and ran in to get you without gear on.”
“What the fuck?” Leo hisses.
“I was fine. You were at the door, and I didn’t have time to put on anything,” I assure him. “And I didn’t get hurt.”
After a second, he sags back into his pillows, and his eyes flutter halfway closed. “I had two or three seizures, and one of them was a grand mal, so they want me to see the neurologist and check to make sure there’s nothing wrong.”
Easton swallows so hard I hear it click in his throat. “Do you feel okay?”
