Page 34 of The Burdens We Share (Satan’s Angels #3)

Dallas

“Ivory!” I call her, practically screaming her name as she lays limp in my arms. I start to gently pat her cheek, hoping to wake her up, but she never stirs.

I feel panic rising under the surface of my skin, my breaths rapid with fear.

I look up at the worried, frozen faces of her friends, “Someone call an ambulance,” I command and look back down to focus on her perfect face, unconscious.

I knew something was wrong with her when we were still on the set, but she refused to admit it because she’s so fucking stubborn.

I knew she was about to fall when we had made it in here.

Her legs looked so wobbly, that I reached out immediately when she fell and caught her head before she could hit the floor.

Now, I cradle her body against my chest and keep calling her name, but she isn’t waking up.

Harvey appears on the other side of her, across from me, “Dal, breathe.” He commands.

I snap, “She isn’t waking up!”

He holds both hands out in the universal sign of “relax,” but how the fuck can I relax when Ivory is unconscious?

For weeks she’s been off. I knew something was wrong with her, but I didn’t know what.

She’s been getting dizzy spells and at first, I thought it was from stress, but that can’t be the case now that she’s fainted.

“I know, but freaking out isn’t going to do anything for her. ”

I scoff at him, “Like you give a shit about her.” Harvey used to hate Ivory and Aria back when he first met them and Brody because he knew that they were out of control and sure, at the time the girls weren’t exactly being the best friends to Brody.

But Harvey never really seemed to take to them even after the girls had made up and gotten their acts together.

All the selfish bastard cares about is Brody.

But can I blame him? I feel the same way about Ivory.

Slater is the only one of us that cares about everyone and loves everyone.

That’s just because he’s too fucking nice and he’s just an overly happy person.

Harvey looks offended, “Of course, I care about her.”

I give him a dark look, “Don’t bullshit me, Harvey. Not right now.”

“Guys, not the time,” Selene inserts.

I shake her off and continue at Harvey. I know I’m taking my fear and my worry out on him, and I know he knows it too. I just can’t stop because if I do, I’m really gonna start destroying things around me until Ivory wakes up. “You never fucking liked her, so don’t act like you care about her now.”

Harvey gives me a calm expression, “You’re wrong, Dal. I do care about her and I care about you too, so stop losing your shit and tell me how I can help you.”

I bare my teeth at him in warning and suddenly, Slater bends down beside Harvey and assesses Ivory.

“We should probably make the job easier for the ambulance and get her out of the trailer.” He’s trying to help, to be the voice of reason because he knows that it’s impossible for anyone to not like him. He’s just too nice of a guy.

At this moment, he’s completely right, but I’m worried.

“I’m scared to move her.” Wow, I’ve never once admitted to being afraid of anything in my life, but in this situation, it’s never been more true.

I am absolutely terrified to move her because more than anything, I need Ivory to wake up.

I need her to wake up and look at me with her big brown eyes.

I need to see her smile again, I need to hear the sass in her voice when she’s telling me off, I just need to see her awake.

Slater nods, “I understand, but she isn’t gonna break, Dallas.”

Harvey agrees, “We can help you.”

I shake my head, “No. If anyone is touching her, it’s me.” I don’t care if I’m being possessive even now. I don’t trust anyone else with her.

The sound of sirens becomes faint and with every second, it grows so loud I start to feel reassurance.

I also feel tremendous fear because the sound of the sirens brings me back to that night and to what I lost. It brings me back to the pain I felt and still feel to this day and for a long, agonizing second, I worry that I’m going to live through that again.

But this time, unlike the loss of my mother, I panic that I might lose Ivory and that thought terrifies me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

Ivory

MY HEAD IS ABSOLUTELY pounding. The first thing I hear when I start to wake up from whatever sleep I just had is the sound of beeping.

I try to open my eyes to see what’s making that noise, but my lids feel so heavy.

It takes a great effort to open them, and when I finally do, I gasp in surprise and feel my blood go cold.

Beeping grows more rapid from beside me, but I don’t care to look.

I don’t care to look because I’m in a hospital room.

I start to panic, my fear of hospitals causing me to start hyperventilating, but then a face appears in front of mine, worry etched all over it as two large and very gentle hands cradle my face.

My eyes focus on Dallas who looks so exhausted and disheveled, his eyes wide with what looks like worry. The sight almost makes me feel like I’m still unconscious and I’m dreaming because I am not used to this man showing his emotions so openly.

Even his voice sounds worried as he asks, “Ivory? How do you feel? Do you want me to get the doctor?”

I shake my head frantically, my breathing rapid, “Doctor? No! No doctors!”

“Breathe, you’re okay,” he tries to calm me down, his voice soothing.

I shake my head, “I hate hospitals, Dallas. Please can we leave?”

I feel tears threatening to fall and he must see it in my eyes as he looks at me with defeat in his eyes, “We can’t go anywhere right now. I need you to breathe.”

“Why can’t we leave?”

He frowns, “Because you’re in no condition to leave. You need to be here where the doctors and nurses can help you.”

I furrow my brows, “But didn’t I just faint?” That has to be all it is. The room was spinning and I fell. Textbook definition of fainting, right?

Dallas looks at me with pity in his eyes, “No, Little Devil. You didn’t just faint.”

I give him a confused look and he frowns as he explains, sadness in his eyes, “The doctors wanted to keep you overnight because yes, you fainted, but it’s the reason you fainted that was concerning them.

Your body is malnourished and you aren’t healthy.

You’re lacking a ton of vitamins and the doctor said it’s a miracle you made it so long without fainting before.

He also said you were fortunate to have gotten help when you did because if you went on like this, you could’ve died.

” He says the last word and has to look away from me as if the thought sends him into a darker place.

Malnourished? Not healthy? Lacking vitamins? How could this be? I know I’ve been dieting, but Nara was a supermodel. She wouldn’t have set me up for a failure like this, would she? A tear rolls down my cheek, “But how?” My voice cracks.

Dallas takes a step away from my hospital bed and runs his fingers through his already mussed-up hair.

He looks the way I feel which is very not good.

His face splits and I see a side of him I didn’t know existed as he explains, “I saw all the signs and I didn’t put it together.

I feel so fucking stupid,” he berates himself as he walks to the foot of my bed and leans on the foot, supporting his weight with his arms in front of him.

“Signs of what?” I ask, tears openly falling down my cheeks.

He looks up and gives me the most tortured expression ever, “You have an eating disorder, Ivory.”

I shake my head, defensive, “No I do not.”

He just frowns at me, disappointment in his eyes, “Yes, you do. And I should’ve put the pieces together a lot sooner.

You rarely eat and when you do, it isn’t enough to sustain you.

And then you work out and overdo it. Your moods are imbalanced, your skin is all bruised because you’re lacking the proper nutrients, you’re fatigued, and you feel light-headed constantly.

The signs are all there and I can’t believe I didn’t see it.

I think I just didn’t want to believe it. ”

I realize he’s completely right. All of those things are true.

I just don’t want to admit it because admitting it makes it real, makes it true.

I start to panic, “Do the others know?” The thought of my friends, Harvey, Slater, everyone, having seen me collapse and finding out what’s really wrong with me makes sheer terror slice through me.

The thought embarrasses me and worries me that the people I care the most about are disappointed in me.

Dallas’ brows pull together, “That’s what you care about right now? Not that you have a problem?”

I don’t say anything and he pushes off the bed and sighs, rubbing his face with his hands before he drops them at his side and schools me with a stern expression. “Yes, everyone knows.”

My eyes squeeze shut and I cover my mouth as I start to sob. “Are they angry with me?”

“Nobody is angry at you because they acknowledge that you have a problem. If anything, they’re angry that you’re going through it. They aren’t angry at you,” he explains.

I open my eyes and ask quietly, “Are you angry at me?”

He stares at me in silence for a second before he walks over to the chair beside my bed and sits down. “Do you remember when you asked me about my mother and I froze up?”

I nod.

Dallas explains a faraway look in his eyes, “My mother died six months ago. I was supposed to meet her for dinner, but I was late to meet her. She stood on the street and waited for me and she didn’t suspect that there could even be a little bit of evil in this world.

She saw the best in everyone.” His eyes glaze over.

“Someone drove by her on the street and shot her. She bled out and I finally made it there from my business meeting to find my mother dead on the pavement.”