Priceless (Forbidden Men 8)

I pierced him with a harsh glance, prepared for one of his inappropriate, asinine comments, so I could punch him into next week. I actually craved it; I wanted to hit something so bad. But he only sent me a sympathetic cringe, and I was tempted to jack him in the jaw anyway, just to relieve some of the agony.

In the hall, I heard someone say, “Sarah Arnosta’s family,” and I lurched that way, desperate to hear good news.

By the time I made it into the hall, Noel, Ten and Colton piling after me, the doctor was already speaking to Mason and Reese. “...appears to have been the result of a stroke.”

A stroke?

I choked on my shock, and my knees buckled underneath me. The only reason I didn’t go down was because one of my brothers latched his hand around my arm, supporting me. But it still felt as if I fell into a huge, harrowing abyss. The air sucked from my lungs as black spots dotted my vision.

All the while, the doctor kept talking, explaining that the damage had happened to the weaker side of Sarah’s brain. She was no longer hemorrhaging, and the only thing they were worried about at the moment was her eyesight and maybe some paralysis on her left side.

I bowed my head, trying to breathe normally and failing until the doctor said he’d have a nurse return with more news as soon as Sarah was moved to a patient room. As his footsteps faded away, I looked up, seeking out Mason. He looked as white as a sheet. I had a feeling I hadn’t fared the doctor’s diagnosis any better.

Sarah had had a stroke.

And it was my fault.

“Mason,” I croaked, reaching for his arm. “Jesus, God. I’m sorry. I’m so—”

“Don’t.” He shoved my hand before I made contact. The glare he sent me caused a sob to claw its way out of my throat. “Don’t even talk to me. Just...get out of my face.”

“But...” I opened my mouth to beg mercy, except I knew I didn’t deserve any. I didn’t deserve his forgiveness. I didn’t deserve to fucking live.

I’d caused my favorite person on earth to have a stroke. I could’ve killed her.

“Get him away from me,” Mason growled to Noel. “And keep him away from my sister.”

“Come on, Brandt,” Noel murmured sadly, reaching for my arm.

I pulled out of his grip. “No.” I wasn’t leaving. I couldn’t leave until I was with Sarah again.

“Brandt,” my brother said a little more firmly. “Let’s go.” When he reached for me again, I dodged him.

“I have to see Sarah.” I had to see her right then. I was beginnin

g to feel panicked and unsteady, and no one calmed me like Sarah.

Sarah would make this better.

Dodging my brothers and even Mason, I raced down the hall, with no idea where I was going. I sprinted in the direction the doctor had gone, bursting through one door I was sure I wasn’t supposed to go beyond.

Some hospital-type person yelled after me, but I kept running, breathing hard, heart racing, palms sweating. I needed to be with Sarah.

When I barely caught sight of the doctor who’d just talked to Mason and Reese, I darted after him just as he tugged aside a curtain to check on the patient behind it. When I drew close enough to see that it was her, I jarred to a halt, gasping.

She was so still and lifeless on the bed, pale and small, with all kinds of wires connected to her. Her heart monitor beeped out a steady rhythm, telling me she was alive, but she was far from okay.

Choking out the sob that tore from my throat, I collapsed to my knees, unable to take my eyes off the woman I’d just destroyed.

“Oh, God.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Shudders wracked my body. I went cold and numb, dying a little more each second I watched her.

“No, it’s okay,” I vaguely heard someone say, just before a hand gently gripped my shoulder. “We’re his brothers. We’ve got him. We’ll get him out of here.”

But I shook my head. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to leave her. I needed her.

“Brandt.” Noel’s voice in my ear broke me. I wilted, covering my face with my hands, and wept.