“It will be okay,” Ocean says, and I shake my head.
“I wanted,” I start, stop. Try again. “I wanted to take care of you. And of Jason. To be someone you can count on, who can have your back and offer safety.” I rub at my burning eyes. “I wanted to be like you. You always took care of me.”
“Hey. R.” He slips an arm around my shoulder, shakes me a little. “Look at me. Look at me, I said. You did your best.” When I frown up at him, meeting his gaze, he sighs. “We all do our best. I failed you when I sent you away to our crazy aunt, when I thought I was saving you. Sometimes life is beyond our control. Now, you took Jason off the streets, and came to us for help, and that’s exactly what I would have done, too. We couldn’t predict the rest.”
I look away. “It doesn’t matter. Jason was shot. He may die, and I…”
“No.” He tightens his hold on me. “Don’t think that way. Jason will make it. And you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re the best brother I could have ever asked for, and I’ll bet you’re an awesome boyfriend, too.”
I draw a shaky breath. He needs to stop talking, or I’ll come apart. No fucking way, not now.
A doctor approaches us, and I get up, vaguely aware that the coffee has fallen from my hand, crashing and splashing on the floor. “Any news?”
“Are you Jason Vega’s family?” he asks and we all nod. “Well, surgery went well. We were able to remove shards of bone, set the femur, and stop the hemorrhage. His vitals are strong. Barring a bad infection, we expect him to make a full recovery, with physiotherapy and the proper psychological support, of course.”
Of course.
I’m standing there, speechless, breathless, afraid to move in case this isn’t real.
“R. He’s gonna be okay.” My brother grabs my arm and tugs me to him. Guess hugging is a family tradition. “You can relax now. He’ll be fine.”
He pats my back, and I’m still numb, so I barely feel it.
“Can I see him?” I pull away from Ocean to face the doctor once more. “Doc, can I see him? Is he awake?”
He frowns, and I realize the others have surrounded us.
“Only one of you at this point,” the doc says. “I can’t let you all troop inside and—”
“Just him,” Ocean says, giving me a gentle shove forward. “It’s his boyfriend. The rest of us can wait.” When I glance back at him, he winks. “Tell him hi from us, little brother. And don’t maul him just yet, remember he’s wounded. Be gentle.”
So I give him the finger, obviously, and follow the doctor to visit the guy who holds the pieces of my heart in his ha
nds.
I hope he’ll be gentle with it, too.
He’s too damn pale. His hand is cold when I take it in mine, but his head rolls toward me, his eyes opening to dark slits.
I press my forehead to the back of his hand, searching for words. “Jase…”
Am I supposed to ask if he’s okay? His leg is in a cast, bloodied gauze peeking below. He looks like he’s two steps from dying. He’s not fucking okay.
“Hey.” His voice is thin, just a breath. “Look at me.”
I shake my head, but I look up, meeting his gaze. “I promised I’d keep you safe. I told you to trust me. And you almost died because of me.”
“Not your fault.”
Yeah, sure. “It was my dad, wasn’t it?” He gives a small nod, and I bite the inside of my cheek not to howl with rage. “I fucked up. I thought I was on top of things. I’m a fucking idiot.” I let go of his hand and go to stand, needing to get my thoughts in order. “This is on me.”
“Don’t.” He grips my hand. “Don’t go.”
He’s panting, those expressive dark eyes glittering. It stops me in my tracks.
“Jase—”
“Don’t,” he pants, “make me get up,” another hissing breath, “and come after you, or I swear, I’ll puke all over you.” He tugs on my hand, with less strength this time. Then, more quietly still, “Don’t leave me.”