He groans, then scoots himself forward on the couch. He stiffens. His throat constricts as he stares at the name on the screen.
“It’s Sal,” he croaks out.
This is it. News about his brother. News that will make or break his entire world.
Quietly, Lacey crosses the room and sits beside him. She nudges his shoulder. “Answer it.”
A quick glance tells him she isn’t faring any better than he is. Her hands are clasped so tight together her knuckles are bloodless, her face pale.
Dread curling in his stomach, he picks up the phone with a shaky hand. “Sal?”
“Seth?” Her inhale is watery and ragged. “It’s Luke. He’s okay.”
A ragged sob tears out of Seth. “Thank Christ.”
“He’s awake,” Sal goes on, sounding awed. “He’s talking, and he’s fine. There’s no brain damage, no brain bleed.” She sniffles. “Will you come, Seth? He’s asking for you.”
Seth’s boots sound loud down the hospital corridor. Lacey walks fast beside him, her stilettos keeping an in-sync clickety-clack. When he gets to the waiting room, he stops. Stares. It’s cleared out, which means Luke really must be okay for everyone to up and leave.
After a quick shower and a cup of coffee, he’s clearheaded and calm. At least on the outside. Inside, his nerves are hot-wired and frayed. He doesn’t know what Luke will say when he sees him. Will his brother forgive him? Is he pissed at him for leaving, for not doing enough to help Sal? Luke needed him and he fell apart. What would he say if he knew the truth about last night?
Fuck. He’s a goddamn mess.
As if she’s read his thoughts, Lacey puts a hand on his arm. Gives it a gentle squeeze of comfort. “It’s going to be okay, Seth.”
He turns to her, opening his mouth to respond, but before he can, Luke’s hospital room door cracks open.
Sal hovers in the threshold, a tired smile on her face. A palm pressed against the small bud of her stomach. “Seth,” she breathes.
His throat tightening painfully, he goes to her and pulls her into a fierce hug. As if he can tell her how damn sorry he is for being a shit excuse for a brother, a best friend.
“Where’ve you been?” Sal asks when she pulls out of his embrace. Her words hold no trace of anger, only a sad puzzlement. As her emerald eyes search his, he blanks out her unasked questions. Sal can read him better than most anyone, and the last thing he wants to do is upset her. “I was worried about you.”
“Nah,” he says, forcing a smile to reassure her. “You ain’t got to.”
She bites her lip. Hangs on to him a second too long. “Go see him.”
Relief, instant relief, fills Seth when he steps inside the room. Chirping monitors. The cloying scent of antiseptic. And Luke.
His brother sits up in bed, his right pupil enormous, a bandage wrapped around his head. He looks a little pale, a lot tired, but alert.
Seeing Seth, Luke lifts his hands in greeting. “Hey, man, I missed ya.”
Seth offers a casual smile as if he’s not fucking dying inside at the sight of his brother whole and alive. “You look good, Luke. A little pale, but nothin’ a beer won’t fix.”
Luke holds up a middle finger. “Yeah, maybe so, but I still ain’t happy to be here.” He scowls at his IV.
Seth rolls his eyes. Leave it to Luke to pissand moan about being in the hospital for less than forty-eight hours.
Sal steps around Seth to give Luke a look of reproof. “You touch those drugs,” she warns, arching an eyebrow, “and I’m gonna whoop your ass, country boy.”
Seth smiles at Sal’s stern command of Luke. The only one who can boss his older brother around.
Luke chuckles, his eyes warming at the sight of his wife.
“How you feelin’?” Seth hovers by the side of his brother’s bed, uncertain, undeserving, riddled with guilt. He shouldn’t be here.
All of this—it’s his own damn fault.