Zane (Inked Brotherhood 3) - Page 88
“Yeah.” I swallow hard, a lump in my throat.
“Oh, honey…” He’s silent for a moment, and that’s good, because I need the time to pull myself together.
“He’s getting better.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
I shake my head, although he can’t see it. Don’t know what Zane and I are. Doesn’t matter. “Got to go now, Dad.”
“Okay, Koty. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
I disconnect the call and draw in breath after breath. Zane is mostly asleep, but the few times he’s been awake, he doesn’t seem to see me. It’s scaring me. The doctors aren’t sure what’s wrong.
“Dakota!” The male voice sounds urgent, and I turn on my heel to see Rafe running toward me.
Shit. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” My heart booms.
“No. He’s okay. He’s just…” Rafe bends over panting. “He asked about you.”
“He did?” Hope flares, burning bright. “Is he fully awake now? I’m going to—”
“Dakota, wait.” He tucks his blond hair behind an ear as he straightens. “He’s a bit confused.”
“What do you mean?”
“He thinks…” Rafe frowns. “He thinks you’re dying.”
“What?” I gape at him.
“Are you sick?”
“Sick?”
“He said… He said you have cancer.”
I shake my head, speechless. “I don’t have cancer.”
Rafe looks relieved. “Told you, he’s confused. Doctor said he might be after waking up, and dehydration can do funny things to your head.”
“Maybe he’s mixing me up with his sister.”
“Maybe.” Rafe kicks at a stone. “Dammit.” He sighs. “Go see him before he falls asleep again. I swear I’ve never seen anyone sleep so much in my life.”
I leave him to his musings and rush inside. As I take the by now familiar route to Zane’s room, I consider Rafe’s words. The doctors warned us Zane would be doing a lot of sleeping the first week. Coming out of a coma isn’t easy. I know that. I know it better than anyone. I’ve been there, and I know not everyone comes out of it the same as before.
The thought Zane might not recover completely hurts like a stab wound.
Stop thinking like that. Zane will be okay. He’s strong. God… he has to be okay.
My steps echo as I turn a corner and see his door. I turn the handle and enter his room, then stop to catch my breath. It catches in my throat.
Zane is alone, but that’s not what shocks me.
He’s sitting, his back propped on a mound of pillows, his hands in his lap. He’s wearing a green hospital gown that leaves his arms bare. The oxygen mask is gone. And he’s staring straight ahead, his gaze not even flicking when I walk toward him.
“Zane.” I sit on the bed, and reach for his hand. When I curl my fingers around his, they’re cold and still. “Rafe says you asked for me.” Sort of. “It’s me, Dakota. I’m here.”
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