In my traumatized brain, all I can think is that it’s ironic. The same person who broke the man I care about is coming to save my sister. It’s not important in this moment, not even a little. Yet it’s what I’m thinking about as I blow breaths into her lungs. Shock, I think is what it’s called. The same thing happened after Mason. The only thing I could latch onto in the moment was that Adler and I still had traps to pick up.
Irrelevant.
I don’t have a lot to be thankful for tonight, but if I can find anything, it’s that the three and five-year-old sleeping down the hall don’t wake up. They stay asleep as Jax rushes into the house, assessing Sara and radioing the hospital to be prepared. They stay asleep as the ambulance arrives and places her on a gurney. And they’re still asleep as the ambulance speeds away carrying their mother.
I call Mrs. Porter next door to ask her to come sit with the kids, explaining what happened. Luckily, she answers and shows up on my porch in a robe with her hair in curlers. She pushes me out the door and tells me not to worry. But that’s all I can do as I speed to the hospital.
Sara can’t die. Those kids don’t deserve that kind of pain. I slam my hand on my steering wheel, over and over. She had me sign papers. She knew what she was going to do. I ignored every single sign, even when my gut told me something was off. I ignored Kian when he told me I wasn’t taking her depression seriously enough. If she dies, this is on me.
And I’ll never forgive myself.
Kian
I turned my phone off and didn’t set an alarm before going to bed last night. I planned to sleep my entire Saturday away and not wake until right before I had to be at Focus to open the doors. But I’m jolted awake by pounding on my door when the sun has barely risen, judging by my dimly lit bedroom.
I turn my phone on and see multiple missed calls from Jax, of all people. I go on high alert. I scramble from bed, throwing on last night’s pants, and rush to the door. Peeking through the peephole, I see Jax on the other side, his head down and his fist poised to knock again.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as I swing open the door.
“A lot, actually. Can I come in?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he’s pushing past me and walking inside my condo. “You need to take a seat.”
“I don’t need to do anything because this is my place.” I fold my arms across my chest. I’m still half asleep and in no mood to deal with whatever this is.
Then he lifts his head and my breath leaves my lungs in a giant whoosh, as if I’ve been kicked in the chest. His features are dark even on the brightest of days, but whatever’s wrong, along with the twilight, has his brown eyes near black and his worry lines even more shadowed.
“Seriously, Kian. Sit down.” His commanding tone has me obeying. I slink down onto my couch, my eyes widening as he paces back and forth. “I have something to tell you.”
“If you’re here to tell me you’re still in love with me, you can just leave now.”
“What?” His brows knit together in confusion. “No. God, no. I’m with Dante. We’re living together.”
“Then what is it?”
He sits down next to me and takes my hand in his. If he’s not here to admit his undying love, then what the ever-loving fuck is this?
“It’s about Archer. Well, his sister,” he says so low, his words are barely heard. I go from absolute confusion to complete clarity. Before he says the words, I know. “She overdosed.”
“Is she—”
“She’s alive, but barely.”
“Oh my God. I need to go.” Panic like I’ve never felt before consumes me. I pull my hand free and stand up, looking around for things I need.
Keys, phone, shoes. What else? Fuck, I can’t think.
“A shirt.” Jax instructs and I look down at my bare chest.
“Okay.” I slip into my room and yank on a black Focus tee. I toe on a pair of sneakers and then I’m back in my living room, still searching for my goddamn keys. Jax dangles them from a finger.
“You can have these, but I’m driving you.”
“What? No. That’s stupid.” I snag the keys from him.
“Kian, you’re in shock. I can see it on your face. You can’t be behind a wheel.”
“Fine. But you better not go the speed limit and I want lights and sirens.”
Once out my door, I jog to the stairwell and take them two at a time, thankful Jax is right behind me. He opens the passenger side of his Tahoe that’s parked illegally in front of the condos. My mind races. Chasing circles around a million thoughts at once.
I knew she was severely depressed.
Why didn’t Archer listen to me when I said she needed help?
He must be broken into a thousand pieces.
Oh my God. Emmy and Lou.
It’s that final thought that brings tears to my eyes. If she dies, he’ll be the one who has to tell them. He hadn’t even recovered from his last trauma with Mason. My breaths come faster and my vision narrows, my chest constricting.
“Breathe. Lean over and put your head between your legs.” Jax presses between my shoulders, forcing me to do what he said. But a feather could knock me over right now, so it doesn’t take much to get me into position. “Just breathe.”
I focus on inflating and deflating my lungs until the woozy feeling passes. By the time I sit up, we’re already at the hospital.
“He’s here?”
“Yes. When I left his place, he was calling the neighbor to come sit with the kids.” Jax pulls into the emergency lane and puts the car in park.
“Will she live?” I ask, knowing I can’t ask Archer this question, but needing to know.
“I don’t know. She had an empty bottle of Vicodin next to her. I guess it was prescribed to her after her C-section. Archer didn’t find her until it had already gotten into her system. It suppresses the respiratory system in high doses, and she wasn’t breathing. Archer performed CPR until I got there and could take over. She had a weak heartbeat and wasn’t breathing on her own when the paramedics took her.”
I take in everything he says, frozen in place. I want to rush to Archer, be there for him. Especially since I know he has no one else. But I can’t. The second I see him, this will be real. I’ll have to set aside my own feelings to be what he needs and I don’t know how to do that.
“What do I say to him?” I ask in a small voice, peering over at my once best friend and boyfriend.
He blows out a breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think words are what he needs right now. You know?”
“Yeah.” I steel my spine and step out of the car, but lean back in to say thank you.
“No problem. If you need anything, you know how to reach me.”
I nod and shut the door after me.
I walk into the waiting room of the small emergency room. I scan the space until I see one lone figure in the corner. Bent over, head in his hands, is Archer. For such an enormous man, he appears small, collapsed in on himself.
Nerves give way to my immediate need to comfort him and I rush over. “Archer?”
He looks up, his cheeks tear-stained and his eyes swollen and puffy. The second our eyes meet, his chest heaves and he wails in pain. Not the kind of pain you can see or hear, but the kind that stems from your soul. From the most locked away parts of you that you don’t know exists until something so bad happens, you’re forced to feel just how deep your emotions run.