Concern mars Breslin’s features. “Are you okay?”
He gestures for them to follow him out to the backyard.
And I look for my husband.
I assumed he’d be upstairs, but thanks to Lola, I find him hiding out in my childhood bedroom.
His back is facing me, but it’s obvious how upset he is by the frantic way his shoulders keep rising and falling…like he’s crying so hard he can barely breathe.
My heart clenches because I hate seeing him in pain, but I’m so proud of him for defending his brother against that douchecanoe.
I make my way over to where he’s standing. “Hey—”
A giant wave of terror washes over me when I see his puffy, blotchy face. For a second I think it’s because of the fight, but then Preston makes a choking motion with his hands.
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.
“Help!” I scream at the top of my lungs as he staggers back, clawing his throat as he fights for air.
I have no idea what happened, but his lack of oxygen and the way his face, lips, and eyes are swelling is scaring the shit out of me.
I’m on the phone with an emergency dispatcher when it hits me like a ton of bricks. “I think he might be in anaphylactic shock.”
Back when we were trapped in the elevator, Preston mentioned he was allergic to seafood.
“I’ll be right back.” Racing out of the room, I run over to the DJ and snatch the mic at the same time Asher, Landon, and Breslin come back inside. “Does anyone have an EpiPen? It’s an emergency.”
Their dazzling smiles wipe clean off their faces as they sprint over.
“What’s up?”
“Are you okay?”
“What happened?”
There’s so much panic flooding my system, I can’t answer their questions. All I want to do is get back to Preston and help him. Fortunately, a woman runs over with an EpiPen in her hand and I quickly motion for her to follow me into the bedroom.
Preston’s swelling and wheezing has amplified by the time we barrel inside and for a moment I can’t help but think the worst.
Luckily, the woman stabs him in the thigh with the pen. My relief is short-lived though because his symptoms don’t improve.
“Maybe it’s not anaphylaxis?”
“No, it is,” Asher says, the fear in his voice palpable. “But his is bad. Sometimes it takes two.”
I turn to the woman. “Do you have a second one?”
My heart drops to my stomach when she shakes her head, but I jump into action, issuing orders like a drill sergeant. “The ambulance is on the way, but in the meantime…” I look at Breslin. “Go to the bathroom upstairs and grab the Benadryl from the medicine cabinet.” I eye Landon and Asher next. “You two start knocking on our neighbor’s doors and see if anyone has an EpiPen.”
Plopping down on the floor next to Preston, I squeeze his hand. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” Holding his gaze, I touch his cheek with my free one. “It’s me and you. Until the end, got it?”
He’s still wheezing so bad he can’t speak, but I know he hears me because he tightens his grip.
A moment later, Breslin returns with the Benadryl and EMTs burst into the room. Fortunately, they have tons of epinephrine and Preston’s wheezing finally subsides.
Unfortunately, he refuses to let them take him to the hospital to be checked out.
“You have to let them take you, Preston.”
His jaw clenches as he sits up in the bed. “No.”
Stubborn ass. “I’ll go with you.”
“You might have a rebound,” one of the EMTs tells him.
Preston looks like he wants to ram everyone’s head through the wall. “I’ll take my chances.”
“Come on, Preston. You need to go,” Breslin urges and Asher and Landon nod in agreement.
His broody demeanor strengthens. “What part of no don’t you people comprehend?”
“In that case, we have another call we have to get to,” the second EMT declares while looking at me. “There’s nothing more we can do here since he’s refusing to go to the hospital.” He surveys Preston. “You really should have an EpiPen.”
Dark gray orbs narrow. “And you really should go fu—”
“Thank you so much for helping him,” I interject, giving my ungrateful husband a dirty look. “We appreciate it.” I whip out my cell phone after they leave. “Fine, Holden. Since you refuse to go to the hospital, you give me no choice.”
Asher raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Put the phone down, Bishop,” Preston grumbles.
Not a chance.
“Hey,” I greet Reggie when he answers. “I’m gonna need to borrow Nanna’s doctor again. Preston ate some seafood and he’s severely allergic. We called an ambulance and they helped stabilize him, but he refuses to go to the hospital. I want to make sure he’s okay.”
“Jesus Christ,” Preston grits out. “I’m fine.”
Reggie sighs and I can practically picture him rubbing his forehead while silently cursing my name. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“Thanks, Sugar Bear. You’re a real one.”
Preston’s expression sours when I hang up. “I don’t need to see a fucking doctor.”
Sometimes dealing with him is like dealing with a toddler.
On second thought, I’m pretty sure toddlers are way easier.
“You almost died,” I inform him because it’s evident he’s forgotten.
It doesn’t faze him one bit, though. He simply shrugs like it’s no big deal.
Like his life doesn’t mean anything.
Like losing him wouldn’t utterly destroy me.
“I thought you cared about me.” I draw in a shaky breath. “But that can’t be true, because if you did…you’d know losing you would be the worst thing that could ever happen to me.” My voice cracks under the weight of my emotions. “You’d know that I wouldn’t—couldn’t—survive it.”
It would shatter all my broken parts until there was nothing left.
His expression softens. “Kit.”
“It would obliterate me.” Tears sting my eyes as the sadness within me rises. “But you don’t give a shit, because you’ve made it crystal clear that this connection between us is nothing but a joke.” My friends are watching me with pity now which only makes it worse. “And I’m the punch line.”
I turn to leave, but Preston’s pained voice halts me. “Come here.”
I ought to walk right out that door so he can experience how much it sucks when the person you care about the most discards your feelings like you’re nothing more than trash.
But I don’t.
Instead, I run into his open arms.
Because I care about him. So damn much.
The moment all four of my limbs wrap around him, the dam breaks and my tears fall like rain. “I wish I could hate you sometimes.”
Then it wouldn’t hurt so much whenever he upsets me.
It wouldn’t feel like coming home whenever I’m in his arms.
He buries his face in the crook of my neck. “I wish you could hate me, too.” Clutching me tighter, he inhales sharply. “I’ll see the stupid doctor, okay?”