And have an unhappy ending.
It wasn’t fair.
And I would be damned before I let her suffer with guilt and anxiety the way I had for most of my life—over something she had no control over.
Yes, she might have betrayed me.
But I was the guilty party.
Because when she said thank you for telling me everything.
I had remained silent.
Silence was the devil.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Fallon
“HE DOESN’T MEAN IT.”
“He’s harmless.”
“He’s British.”
All the things Demetri kept repeating over and over and over again, until finally, I glared at him and shakily grabbed my phone sending Zane another text.
I had no idea if he even had his phone.
But I had to try.
Mags was in the back of the car probably having a minor breakdown that she was with one of the members of AD2 while I was just so worried about Zane, I felt sick to my stomach.
Fallon: Are you okay? Zane, I swear, I would never, ever do anything like this to you.
Fallon: Zane! Please. I know I’m acting crazy, but I need to know you’re okay, that you’re breathing. Just, send me something. I don’t care if it’s mean.
Fallon: I would never betray you.
While sending the last text, a knock sounded on our window. It was Jaymeson, and his expression was angry. At least angry is better than sad. I could deal with angry.
“He’s okay.” I said it as a statement, hoping he’d confirm.
Jay jabbed his finger at me. “Hurt him, and I’ll use his cell phone, find that stupid cousin he claims has connections to the mafia, and pay them to make you disappear.”
Demetri let out a low whistle.
“Demetri, watch Mags while I take her in.”
Mags nodded encouragingly while Demetri tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “At least our boy is still alive.”
My stomach dropped to my feet when Jaymeson whispered. “Maybe not for long.”
Our walk was tense, silent, chilly.
I hated every minute of it.
When we got to the hospital room, Jaymeson stopped and opened the door. “I meant what I said.”
“I did too.”
It was a stare down.
Finally, Jay sighed and hung his head, “Be good to him, Fallon.”
With jerky yet numb steps, I went farther into the room as the door clicked behind me, and gasped as Zane looked up at me through pain-filled eyes.
Something was wrong.
Something was very, very wrong.
“Zane…” Tears welled. “I’m so so so—“ I choked on the last word and then reached out my hands, not really sure what to do.
He held up his phone. “I know.”
“No, I didn’t do it, I swear. I have no idea, I mean, I kind of have an idea, I was talking to Mags, defending you. We were in a coffee shop, and all I said was that you hadn’t slept with anyone, that she shouldn’t talk about you that way. I never came out and said anything, but I was so mad, and I should have told you the moment I happened—”
“Coming to the damsel’s defense.” His smile was weak. “About damn time, Fallon.”
“I wanted to try being the prince for once.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“Bad.” I sniffled. “Really, horribly bad.”
“I’ll say.”
I sat on his bed and held my hands, twisting them together. “She would never say anything, I don’t know how anyone could possibly have found out, and Jay’s pissed, blaming me.”
“Cameras with sound.” Zane sighed.
“What?”
His smile still looked pained. “The story was leaked by the store owner. He asked for a hundred grand for it.”
“WHAT!” I yelled. “Who does that?”
His eyes locked on mine with a desperation I’d never seen before in another person. “Sick people. Ones who see a quick way to make money.”
I hung my head, guilt making my shoulders heavy. “Still, I shouldn’t have been talking about it.”
“You mean, defending my honor?”
I nodded.
“It’s okay.” His voice was hoarse. “It’s fine.” He was too dismissive of the entire thing.
“It’s not okay, but I’m glad you know it wasn’t me, that I would never do that to you.” I reached for his hand.
He jerked back.
His expression the same, sad, desolate thing, it had been when I walked in.
“It’s not exhaustion is it?” My voice was wobbly, uneven, like I wasn’t sure of the words, like I didn’t know my own language.
He swallowed and shook his head.
“Are you going to be okay?”
He shrugged.
“Zane…” I went from being unsure to pleading. “Please, just…tell me, tell me you’re going to be okay, and that it’s just a freak accident, like being dehydrated or going without marshmallows for too long.”
He cracked a smile. “Remember the nervous breakdown everyone thought I had? When I got my concussion?”
I didn’t like where this was going. “Yeah.”
“I had a CT scan, typical when you have a concussion. They found something, they sent for another test, then another, then another.” My skin went cold. “I have an aneurysm, one that the doctors aren’t sure will heal on its own or need to be removed. It’s in a place where they are about eighty percent confident they can clip the thing without killing me, if need be.”