Page 92 of How to Train Your Billionaire

The sky explodes in gold and red and blue. Reflected in the pool, in the windows of the house, in Victoria’s perfectly painted features.

All I can think about is watching fireworks with Frankie somewhere quiet. Her head on my shoulder, making jokes about the shapes they make in the sky. She’s changed, or maybe I have. I can’t explain it, but Frankie has shifted from the annoying assistant to the person who matters most in the world.

“Hayes?” Victoria’s looking at me expectantly.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted to—”

Shouting erupts behind us. A crash.

I turn and see Charles on the ground, Frankie kneeling beside him.

Everything else disappears.

I push through the crowd, Victoria forgotten, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“Call an ambulance,” Frankie says without looking up. Her hands are on Charles’s chest, checking his pulse.

“What happened?” I drop down beside them.

“He just ... collapsed. One second he was laughing, the next ...” Her voice cracks.

Charles’s eyes flutter open. “I’m fine,” he whispers. “Just tired.”

“You’re not fine,” Frankie says firmly. “You’re going to the hospital.”

The paramedics arrive within minutes. Professional. Efficient. And terrifying.

As they load Charles onto a stretcher, he grabs my hand with fingers that feel too fragile.

“Take care of her,” he says quietly.

I look at Frankie, who’s climbing into the ambulance without hesitation.

“I’m coming with you.”

She doesn’t argue.

As the ambulance pulls away, I catch a glimpse of Victoria standing on the lawn, looking confused and abandoned.

I don’t give a shit.

Right now, the only thing that matters is the woman sitting across from me, holding Charles’s hand and whispering reassurances we both know she doesn’t believe.

And the crushing realization that I might be about to lose them both.

Chapter Thirty-Five

The Last Goodbye

Frankie

Charles looks so small in the hospital bed, buried under white blankets that seem to swallow him whole.

The sterile smell of disinfectant clings to the room, and there’s an incessant beeping from a variety of monitors.

Hayes sits in the chair across from me, still wearing his dress shirt from the party. He’s got grass stains on his knees from when he dropped down beside Charles on the lawn, and his hair is a mess from running his hands through it.