Page 42

Adrian

T he first thing I became aware of was warmth.

Real, encompassing warmth that didn’t feel stolen or temporary. It wasn’t the flickering heat of a dying fire in a wrecked plane. It wasn’t the weak, shared body heat between Troy, Elena, and me.

It was genuine warmth.

I was alive, and we’d been found.

That knowledge should have brought me peace. But instead, it made my stomach twist.

Because even as I drifted in and out of consciousness, even as they slowly fed me real food, tended to my wounds, and assured me I was safe?—

No one would tell me about Elena, only that she was alive. That was it. No details. No explanation.

Just—“She’s alive, Adrian.”

And that wasn’t good enough.

They told me I’d been here a week. It didn’t feel like it. Time had been nothing but a blur, slipping through my fingers as I drifted between sleep and semi-consciousness, the medication keeping me too weak to think clearly .

Today, I felt stronger.

For the first time since waking up in this unfamiliar hospital, I felt clear-headed and wanted answers.

I wanted Troy.

I wanted Elena.

I wanted to be whole again with the people I loved with every ounce of my being. These thoughts circled through my mind, making me antsy to talk to someone and finally get somewhere. If Elena was here, I wanted to see her. I wanted to see Troy. Sleeping alone in this fucking bed wasn’t doing it for me. I needed them like I needed my next breath.

The door opened, and my dad walked in, his expression weary but relieved.

I shifted in bed, pushing myself up. My body was still sore and aching, weaker than I wanted it to be, but my mind was sharp.

“Dad,” I murmured, my throat dry and my voice hoarse.

He smiled and came to sit beside me, pressing a firm hand to my shoulder, squeezing softly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, ignoring the ache in my chest. “How’s Troy?”

His expression darkened slightly, but not in a way that made me panic.

“He’s in surgery,” he admitted.

My heart dropped. “What? Why?”

“He hurt his knee. They’re repairing the damage now.”

I cursed, dragging a hand down my face, frustration twisting in my gut. Of course, Troy had hurt himself. Of course, he’d pushed too hard. He always did. I didn’t like that information had been kept from me, though.

My dad sighed, glancing away before looking back at me. His face was lined with exhaustion and something deeper—something raw.

“We were looking for you, Adrian,” he said. “I promise we were. We used the photo Troy sent from his phone. It took a long time to narrow it down, but we did.” He exhaled, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

I stared at him, my chest tight with emotions. A week ago, those words would have made my heart jump. Now, I just felt empty.

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”

My dad nodded, but I could tell he didn’t believe that. I hesitated momentarily, staring at my hands, my breathing slow and uneven.

Then, softly, I whispered, “Dean.”

My dad’s expression hardened instantly.

I barely had time to brace myself before he held up a hand, silencing me before I could say anything else.

“His remains have been brought home,” he said. “There will be a funeral for him.”

I sucked in a breath, my stomach twisting painfully. The weight of what we’d done crashed into me all over again.

I lowered my head, my fingers digging into the sheets, my eyes burning with tears that should have been gone by now.

“Dad,” I whispered.

He reached over, gripping my arm tightly, grounding me, anchoring me.

I shook my head, my voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I—God, I—I only wanted to live. How selfish is that?”

My dad pulled me into a tight, crushing embrace, his breath shaking, his body trembling.

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I let myself break against him, sobbing softly, begging for forgiveness that I wasn’t sure I deserved.

My dad held me, rubbing slow circles into my back, his voice steady.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he murmured. “I understand. It’s not selfish to want to survive. Don’t you think that, Adrian.”

I cried harder, hating myself, hating everything that happened, hating that there was no right choice.

But his next words shattered what little strength I had left.

“I’m proud of you, Adrian.”

I pulled back sharply, staring at him in disbelief, my breath shaky, my chest aching.

His eyes were wet and red-rimmed. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice.

“I love you,” he whispered .

And I broke all over again.

Once I finally calmed down, my dad sat with me, talking softly, his hand still gripping mine like he was scared to let go.

I hesitated, but eventually, I forced myself to ask the only question that mattered.

“Elena?”

My dad sighed heavily. I felt it coming before he even spoke.

“She was worse off than you,” he admitted.

My heart skipped. I’d heard as much, but no one wanted to tell me how much worse off.

“She needed a higher level of care,” he continued. “She’s getting it.”

I stared at him, my pulse pounding.

That was it?

That was all he was going to say?

Something was wrong.

“Can I see her?” I asked, my voice shaking. “What happened? Give me some hope here, Dad.”

My dad hesitated. I hated that hesitation.

“You can’t see her yet,” he finally said. “She needs to rest, Adrian. She was dying when she was brought in. She was starving to death. So were you and Troy, but she was further along. She’s been sleeping for a long time. The doctors are ensuring she gets the nutrition she needs so she’s stronger.

My hands clenched into fists, my throat tight as I tried to contain my emotions. I knew he wasn’t telling me everything. It was more than physical illness. Something else happened, and he was trying to spare me.

I also knew there was no way in hell I was leaving here without seeing her.

Two days later, my dad urged me to rest, telling me the doctors would be evaluating me soon to see if I could be discharged.

I barely heard him because my mind was spinning.

Because all I could think about was Elena and how she needed me. How I was terrified that I’d already lost her. Being alone to sleep every night wasn’t working for me. It got worse each time the sun disappeared, and the moon took its place. Something had snapped inside of me in that wreckage, and I wouldn’t be able to rest until Troy and Elena were back with me.

Tears slid down my cheeks, but I let them fall. I had spent too much time crying over things I couldn’t change. Awful shit I’d done. It was time to fight for something I could change. I had been given a second chance, and I wouldn’t waste it. It was a thought I kept repeating in my head.

I wasn’t going to let her slip away. I wasn’t going to let this destroy us. I would make her love me and Troy again if it was the last thing I did.