Page 92

I feel like texting him first isn’t enough. I need to just show up and tell him how I feel.

I don’t make it past getting the coffee and treats, though.

As I’m carrying everything over to the side of the parking lot where my ride is supposed to show up, the flurry of show is almost impossible to see through. It’s daytime, but the sky is a never-ending vortex of gray and white.

My cheeks and nose are numb from the cold, and it’s difficult to hold my phone with my gloves.

As I shove my phone into my coat pocket, the back of my head is suddenly burning. Pain shoots through my body as I register the hit to the back of my head and stumble forward. The drinks and the bag of muffins go flying.

I gasp and fall forward onto the icy asphalt.

The back of my head is numb and tingly, but it feels wet and warm when I reach a hand back to touch it.

“H-Help.” I can just barely get the word out as my vision goes blurry.

Another strike to my back keeps me down.

“Stupid motherfucker!” an unfamiliar voice hisses at me from above.

I try to push up from the ground, but I’m hit again, this time on my shoulder, and the pain radiates through my entire arm. I howl in pain as my face hits the pavement.

I brace to be hit again, but then I hear the wind whistling just before a gasp that quickly turns into a gurgle and a thud.

My attacker falls to the frozen ground beside me and one of his arms lands on my head.

As I try to push up, I hear footsteps crunching through the snow toward me, and then a hand is on my back.

“Don’t move, Ethan. Please don’t move,” Dante says. His voice is far more emotional and concerned than I’ve ever heard it. Even when he was saving me from the car bomb, he was calmer than this.

I don’t have much of a choice in the matter, as my body suddenly goes limp.

“Dante,” I whisper.

With what little vision I have left, I see him taking his jacket off out of the corner of my eye. Then I feel somethingwarm against the back of my head, pushing against it. His scent surrounds me, and my fear fades away.

“Fuck, Ethan. I’m so fucking sorry,” he chokes out. “This is all my fault.”

“N-No.” I try to speak, but it’s difficult. I feel so dizzy. Tired.

I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

I feel my body being turned over and then lifted into the air, the jacket still pressed tightly to my head.

“Everything will be okay. I promise,” Dante huffs out. We’re moving, but I don’t know where. In this moment I don’t really care.

“Talk to me, Ethan. Stay awake.”

I lick my lips. “Can’t. So tired.”

“Please hang on, Ethan.I love you.”

Everything goes dark.

18

DANTE

The only thing I can do to keep myself from exploding is pace up and down the small hospital room. The sound of a beeping heart monitor and my boots against the white tile floor is all I hear for hours. That, and the hustle and bustle of the hospital staff as they go about the day helping other patients.