Knock, knock, knock!
I jerk up in my seat, almost welcoming the interruption. It’s a good reason not to write this stupid email I’ve been struggling with for days.
I go to the door, assuming it’s a nurse or doctor here for another check-up. I find Olivia and Micha instead. The boy’s face is hollow, empty, and scared.
My heart sinks. I’m glad he’s here, but I know it can’t be easy.
I reach down, tussling his hair with my hand.
“I haven’t seen you in a while, little man. You’ve gotten so big.”
He looks up slowly with a small sniffle. “Is my dad gonna be okay, Mr. Lincoln?”
“He’s been through worse, I promise you that,” I say, wishing I had the heart to lie to him with lofty guarantees about Wyatt springing out of bed tomorrow. “Why don’t you go on in and see for yourself?”
“Thank you, Burns,” Olivia clips. She’s just as fabulous as ever, wearing a smile that looks like it wants to chew my face off.
You’d never guess the man she made a son with is lying behind us on his deathbed.
I hold the door open, ushering them inside before I let it shut behind me and walk across the hall.
I want to stay as close as I can while I wait for them to leave. Wyatt shouldn’t be alone when there’s always a sliver of a chance he could wake up.
They’re in the room for less than half an hour.
Micha’s strung-out sobs are hard to miss, even in the hall. When they exit the room, Olivia’s face is redder than her son’s. She swipes a tear off her cheek.
I want to believe those tears are real.
Only, she’s so self-centered. She’s probably just pissed Wyatt found a way to force himself back into her life—back into Micha’s—even if he’s horribly close to leaving this world.
I move over as Micha tries to shrink into the wall, his arms clasped tightly around his small body.
“You going to be okay, bud?” I ask, leaning down with concern.
“Yeah,” he mumbles without looking up.
Olivia sighs.
“I just knew he’d end up like this if he kept living like a pack rat. He looks terrible.” Her words are soft and strained.
“You’re blaming a homeless guy for having pneumonia in front of his son?” I growl, standing and lowering my voice so the kid can’t hear.
“No. I’m blaming a man who refused to hold down a job after Iraq, and who used to pop painkillers like dinner mints. He’s lucky it’s just pneumonia. I don’t even want to know what his liver looks like.”
“He couldn’t work. He lost his leg—” I choke on my words, knowing I have to be calm for the boy’s sake.
“But not his brain—”
“You abandoned him,” I bite off.
“Oh, sure. It’s not like his issues were any better when he was drinking himself stupid. Somebody had to support our son, and you’re looking at her,” she says bitterly.
“Whatever. Micha doesn’t need to hear you trashing his old man like this while he’s laid up in the room behind you. It’s not fair to anyone.”
Micha’s small, hurt sobs are audible again. He looks at us with wide, glistening eyes.
“Is Daddy gonna die?”
“I don’t know, honey,” Olivia says quietly.
I shake my head firmly.
“He’s a human ox. He’ll pull through. Count on it, Micha.”
He looks up at me, his eyes conflicted.
Goddammit, this sucks. Every last rotten bit of it.
I’m not sure what else to say. I don’t deal with kids often.
I meet Olivia’s eyes, hoping she’ll come to the rescue. This is her son, her family, whatever the hell happened between them to cause grudges.
She stares straight ahead for a solid minute before her eyes flick to me.
“Well, we have to get back. Will you call me if he—if anything changes?”
My jaw tightens. I want to rip her a new one so bad.
“That’s it?” I whisper, my voice low. “You’ll let the boy visit one time for half an hour and run home?”
She closes her eyes for a second. When she opens them, she scoffs.
“Burns, would you want to see your father like that? Would it do anything besides give you nightmares for life?”
I roll my eyes, making a frustrated sound.
What the fuck ever. I get it.
She wants to fly back to her fancy new life with another sucker she’ll probably screw over eventually the same way she did Wyatt. That’s cool. But why use the boy as an emotional shield?
“Your choice,” I bite off, crossing to the door and pressing my hand against it.
It’s all I can do to keep my rage in check.
“You’ll call me, right?” she calls after me.
Fuck no, I’m tempted to tell her.
If that’s her attitude, she can find out Wyatt’s fate from the staff.
Of course, I can’t do that to my friend, though.
“Will you care?” I ask, moving back to the room.
“Lincoln, wait!” My name comes out like an expletive.
I don’t stop, pushing the door open. I reenter Wyatt’s room without continuing this pointless conversation.
I return to the hard chair I’ve practically lived in for the last few days and open my laptop again. Let’s try this email one more time.
One of the monitors beeps.
I glance up at my friend, this motionless mass of tubes and paleness. His condition hasn’t changed the whole time I’ve been here.
The lines move up and down the same way, the machines churning with faint hisses.
I exhale. “Get better, man.”
With my eyes back on my screen, I confront a different torture, inhaling sharply.
Okay. Fuck. Let’s try this again.
Dear Dakota,
I’m sorry I was a jackass.
My nose wrinkles. I punch DELETE. It’s true, yeah, but there’s no point in getting her hopes up just to crush her again.
Dear Dakota,
I can’t see you again.
I snort, knowing how stupid that sounds.
My hands push the laptop shut again.
Who am I kidding?
Dakota Poe is the only person I want to see, and I shouldn’t. I don’t deserve her.
Even if I knew full well the sheer torment of watching a comatose Wyatt the past few days would have been easier with her here. And she’d be here if I only asked.
You’d think the hardest part of this past week would be staring at Wyatt, wondering if he’ll ever leave his bed.
The hard part should’ve been tracking down his heartless ex and threatening her with legal destruction so she’d show up with their son, who I have an ugly feeling won’t be back again.
I look at that mess of a man again, hanging my head.
“I’m sorry, Wyatt. I wish I’d done you better…” When I look up, I’m biting my inner cheek until I taste blood.
Wyatt Emory saved my life.
The hardest part should be watching, waiting, and praying he’ll cheat death one more time.
But it’s not.
It’s only a close second to my other nightmare—trying to decide what to tell Dakota without gouging out my heart with a rusty serving spoon.
I’m not completely stupid.
Yes, I need to apologize, but more importantly, I can’t crush her.
The text she sent calling me a coward speaks volumes.
I’m no fucking coward.
Doesn’t she understand I’m trying to protect her from me?
Somewhere along the line, I forgot that romantic relationships are a sick joke.
Ma and Dad.
Olivia and Wyatt.
Regina and me.
They make me a worse man. A frustrated, explosive beast prone to outbursts that could wreck my life—and Dakota’s by default.
They’re a few years of flirting, sweet words, and guilt-free sex. All followed by a shattered lifetime in a tent because your other half gave up on you, leaving you stalking the world like a hollowed-out phantom.
I don’t want Mother’s fate, and I damn sure don’t need Wyatt’s.
I won’t have that destroying Dakota, either.
I’m still brooding, staring out the small hospital window, when the door clicks. The doctor comes in, a wiry man with greying hair at the temples. He nods at me.
“You’re a loyal visitor, standing watch like this,” he says.
“Not half as loyal as Wyatt Emory.”
He sets down a thick tablet on the bedside table, checks the monitors, and takes out a flashlight and shines it in Wyatt’s eyes.
My friend doesn’t stir.
I suck in a breath that burns and hold it while Wyatt snoozes through the rest of the exam.
After the doctor punches a few notes into his tablet, I can’t stand the suspense.
“Any clue when he’ll wake up?” I ask point-blank.
The doctor frowns.
“It’s hard to say, I’m afraid. I’m mildly surprised he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Believe it or not, I have good news.”
“You do?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
He motions me over to the screen in the corner and pulls up what looks like a digital X-ray. He points at the two white cloudy spots floating against the faint outline of Wyatt’s chest.
“These are Mr. Emory’s lungs,” he says.
“Okay?”
He points to a foggy bubble on one of the ghostly balloons. “That’s ground zero, where the infection is being fought. It was significantly worse forty-eight hours ago. It’s clearing up, little by little, which means the drugs are working.”
Shit.
Positive news has been so scarce lately I almost fall over.
Propping a hand against the wall, I stand and move closer to the screen, taking a good, long look.
“You’re sure about that? I’m no doctor, obviously, but both of those lungs look pretty fogged over to me,” I say.
“I’d say the fluid is roughly thirty percent less than it was yesterday in the worst areas,” he assures me, pulling at his collar. “You see the bubbles, but what’s not so clear in the image is the infection-free tissue, which appears rather healthy. We may have caught him just in time before permanent damage set in.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling slowly.
“Mr. Burns? Are you—”
“I’m fine, Doc. Damn. I’m just relieved. This is the first good news in a while.”
He smiles. “Well, with the infection fading, he should be on the mend, especially once he’s off the ventilator. This time next week, he should be breathing freely and regaining his strength.”
“Hope you’re right. Thank you,” I say, leaning against the wall.
I haven’t felt this relief since I was facedown in a combat zone, my ears ringing with a deafening blast, and that heap of shit crushing me was suddenly lifted away.
“No problem.” He looks at Wyatt and back at me. “He’s your brother?”
“Yeah,” I mutter.
The doctor frowns. “According to his chart, he was brought in from the streets. When he’s discharged, he’ll need real care, or he could wind up right back at square one.”
I toss my head, already determined to ensure that won’t happen.
“Understood. I won’t let him limp back to his tent, no matter how much he fusses. I’ve been trying to get him to move in with me for a while now, but he’s stubborn as a mule.” I heave out a sigh. “This time, I’ll just drive him straight to my place.”
“Good plan. I have to make my rounds, but I’ll be back this time tomorrow unless there’s any abrupt change in his condition.” He moves to the door and pulls it open.
That’s my cue to get the hell out of here and find some fresh air. I head down to the lobby, my mind numb.
When I step out, I think I’m hallucinating.
A blond pixie rushes over and comes to a dead stop in front of me.
“Lincoln?”
“Dakota?”
We toss each other’s names at the same time.
Shit. I wondered if my silence would bring her to me sooner or later.
This is not how I wanted to have this conversation, but the time for choosing is over.
She looks down, up, and covers her mouth with both hands as she meets my eyes.
“Oh my God. Is Wyatt okay? I heard something happened to him, but I didn’t realize he was in the ICU.” Her eyelashes flutter, soft green eyes misted with grief.
For a hellish second, I think she might cry.
She shouldn’t be here.
But since she is, I make the only move I can.
“Let’s talk outside,” I say, placing a hand on her arm and escorting her to the nearest door and the cool, waiting night.
She follows, darting small glances at me as we walk. When we’re finally outside and alone in the too-bright parking lights around the hospital, she looks at me and sighs.
“Is he…?”
“He’ll be fine. Supposedly. The doctor just gave me an update. He caught a nasty case of pneumonia, but it’s clearing up with the stuff they’re giving him. I’m sure he’ll pull through, even if he had me damn worried for a few days.”
Her green eyes are marbles, reflecting the same worry and relief I know too well.
“I’m sorry, Lincoln. If I’d known—I would’ve been here with you right away. But after what happened at the park, I just thought—” She stops.
I move my hand off her arm. I need the distance, and so does she.
The only thing more entanglement can give us is death by ten thousand cuts.
It’s slightly humid tonight, the air thick with tension. That’s not why it’s hard to breathe.
How the hell do I do this?
“The doctor says Wyatt should be a lot better off in a week, so you don’t need to worry.” I take a deep breath, knowing what I have to do. “Dakota, you’ll be better, too. I meant to contact you sooner. If it wasn’t for this emergency, I would have.”
“You had your reasons.” She rolls one sleek shoulder. “Though you could’ve at least texted…I would’ve understood. You had me scared, and you worried the rest of the office, too.”
A soft rain starts. I grab Dakota’s arm, pulling us both under the awning before I release her like she’ll burn me.
Distance, dammit.
Separation.
We need it.
“That brings me to my point,” I say slowly, gathering my words. “What happened last week can’t ever happen again.”
I wait for her to nod, her eyes glittering in the quiet rain and hazy lights.
“I’ve made a hard decision. All I can ever give you is baggage, Dakota. I won’t trouble you with that shit anymore.”
Her face screws up in shock. Instant hurt.
“What baggage? What are you talking about?” She holds a fist to her chest.
“I’m leaving you alone. You won’t have to—”
“Oh my God! You’re…are you stupid?” she sputters. “Lincoln, I’m pissed because you stopped bothering me with anything. You verbally shot me in front of the entire staff and then you disappeared. You said we were nothing.”
It’s like a fucking movie.
Right on cue, lightning rips the sky. That early summer rain turns to an all-out storm, beating the air.
Dakota stares out at the mess and looks back at me.
How do I make her understand?
“I’ll be the first to admit mistakes were made. Entirely mine. Not yours.” I jab a thumb at my chest for emphasis. “What happened when that asshole showed up swinging a knife—I had to step in. That part was right. The rest of it was where we went wrong. I crushed a man’s face and just between you and me, the outcome would’ve been the same whether he rushed us or not. I can’t be that person again. I panicked.”
“You panicked? You panicked?” She shakes her head violently. “My psycho ex could’ve killed us if you hadn’t punched him. Then you stabbed me anyway with that stupid denial in front of everyone. And you think you get to panic?”
“I only—fuck. It never should’ve escalated to that point, whether it was necessary or not. Maybe the little idiot wouldn’t have charged if I hadn’t pushed him.” I clamp my mouth shut. “Don’t you get it? It’s hard to think straight when I’m around you. You make me too insane, too reckless, too passionate. That’s a side of myself I unleashed once, and it almost cost me everything.”
She looks at me, totally bewildered.
I haven’t told her about the man I beat when I caught him cheating with my ex, but that’s not the point.
I’m not admitting what she’s really done to me, horror of horrors.
She made my dumbass fall in love.
What else is there to say to that?
We should be done. More words can only make this worse.
“Oh, Lincoln. You sad, strange man…” She steps toward me.
I take a halting step back, and I’d rather break my own leg.
Goddammit, will she stop making this so hard?
If she gets any closer, I’m boned. Because I’ll kiss her, and that’s a one-way ticket to ruin.
Her bottom lip quivers with rejection, this faint, desperate hope fading in her gaze.
Damn, Dakota, please don’t cry.
Don’t waste your tears and your love on the rain, on me.
Don’t make me lose my resolve.
“I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You’re the last person I ever wanted to hurt, sweetheart.” I pause, my tongue on fucking fire. “I can’t undo what’s happened, but I can prevent more damage.”
“I—I still don’t understand. What do you mean? What happened that’s made you so afraid?”
I set my jaw so hard I’m about to crack a molar.
More explaining won’t help.
She wears the same heartbroken expression she did on the street that day. At least she isn’t crying yet.
“For you, I’ll make this easy because it’s my fuckup and it’s unforgivable,” I say. “I’m stepping away from the company. A long leave of absence. Your job will be safe and you won’t report to me anymore. I never should’ve gotten involved with an employee, but it won’t come at your expense—”
“Just an employee? That’s all I am to you?”
Her face is killing me.
She’s not “just” anything and she knows it. I need to get this over with.
“I’m saving you from the fallout. Your life was trashed once by a big dumbass leaving you out in the cold. Not this time. I’ll go into total exile before I let that happen. Honestly, Wyatt deserves my time off, too. Whatever support I can lend to his recovery, but—” I can’t finish. My throat knots, cutting off my air supply.
I thought I was stronger.
Evidently, I can fight a war and run a multibillion-dollar brand, but I can’t break it off with this little poet without turning my insides into thorns.
“But?” she urges.
Do it, Lincoln. Take the shot.
“But—I’m done with it. All of it, Dakota. I’ve made a big goddamned mess of things. I tore up your heart and mine along with it. That’s not something I’ll keep doing while it’s still in my power to stop it.”
For a single second that feels like an eternity, she’s quiet.
“So that’s it then?” she mutters.
I don’t answer.
Maybe she was right when she called me a coward.
“You got your wedding campaign out of the deal.” Her face goes red. “And your fun, and now you’re just tossing me aside.” Her eyes glisten with fresh, molten tears.
“Dakota—”
“Just like before. You…you used me,” she whispers. Then she throws her head back and stares at the sky, cloudy and unsettled with distant thunder. “I should be used to it by now. I’m such an idiot. When will I learn? I never fucking will, I swear.”
She turns and starts moving away.
Fuck, I can’t let it end like this.
“Wait. I’m mangling this. It’s coming out wrong.” How do I make her understand?
I can’t love.
I can’t.
Cupid, that rat bastard, doesn’t hit people with cute arrows. He blows up their lives with lethal missiles.
He’s not doing that to mine. He’s not reducing her life to rubble.
“Dakota, I hate this. Listen, I can handle fucking up myself, but I can’t do that to you. I can’t ruin your life while you’re still young and beautiful and so smart. You still have a chance with a better man than any I’ll ever be.”
Tears stream down her face now, each breath racking her entire body.
“Lincoln?” Her voice is barely audible as she stops and turns.
“Yes?”
She flips me off, her eyes glowing like hellfire, and then she’s gone, one more shadow in the storm.
“Wait! I’ll call a car for you.”
She doesn’t stop.
She doesn’t even throw me a backward glance.
I start after her, but she doubles her pace.
After she’s out of my sight, I walk back inside the hospital, a drenched mess of a human being in every way imaginable.
I’ll go sit with Wyatt. I don’t want him to be alone when he wakes up, though tonight would be one hell of a time.
My laptop sits in the chair I’ve lived in for days. I pick it up and collapse into the chair. At least I don’t have to worry about sending that email anymore.
Still, now I need to work out what stepping away from the company looks like, and who can take my place without running the empire into the ground.
The worst part is, Mother is still the majority shareholder. I’ll have to talk to her and I’ll get a nuclear earful when she finds out why I’m leaving.
I could tell her I need to help Wyatt, but she won’t like that one bit. She’ll probably also tell me to take a month off instead of backing away completely.
I’m not even sure a temporary leave will work unless Dakota quits, which is always a grim possibility. She moved out of state after her last breakup.
Something about running her out of this city wrenches my gut.
So does that last parting look with the one-gun salute.
No woman has ever looked at me with such contempt before. Any chance I had with Dakota Poe in my next five lifetimes was slaughtered outside this hospital.
“Burns, you are one dumb SOB,” I whisper.
It’s far too easy to imagine Wyatt saying those words.
Whenever he wakes up, he’ll probably invent new ways to call me a fucking fool.
And if Dakota can’t hack it—if she packs up and heads home to North Dakota—will that little jagoff be waiting for her?
I already agreed to avoid pressing charges if and when they assure me he’s set up with a therapist, a job, and a place to live at least five hundred miles from Seattle.
Dammit.
Dakota basically said I’m just like him, and I can’t even argue.
He ruined her past, and I just flattened her whole future.
I push my face into my hands, pressing my knuckles into my eyes.
I’m doing everything humanly possible to make this right. To let her walk away with minimal damage.
Whatever she chooses next shouldn’t bother me.
It shouldn’t, but it does.
It’s her life, and she’s better off without the pond scum named Lincoln Burns.
