Hands in his pockets, Seth paces outside Lacey’s hospital room. A caged animal. Lost. Tortured.
He’s thinking the worst, his brain going to a million awful dark places. All the bad parts of Seth Kincaid. A mental fucking pity party he’s content to wallow in.
This is his goddamn fault.
He should have been taking better care of her. If he wasn’t thinking with his dick, if he wasn’t so damned focused on talking about them, he would have been able to see what was happening right in front of his face. She was sick. And he let it happen.
He let her down. All of them.
Because now he has to call Sal and tell her Lacey’s in the hospital. Again.
Seth squeezes his eyes shut.
Fuck. Let her be okay. Please Christ.
He doesn’t pray, he and Luke lost religion a long time ago, but he’ll get down on his knees right here and now if it means Lacey’s okay.
And where the fuck is the damn doctor? Seth’s ready to go ballistic. After a terrifying car ride to the hospital, where Lacey lay ashen and listless in the passenger seat, the nurses took Lacey from his arms the second he slammed through the door of the hospital. He can still feel the hot singe of her cheek against his skin. Since then, there’s been no word.
His mind keeps replaying it. When she could have gotten sick. What he didn’t see. But there’s nothing. Aside from Lacey saying she was tired, she never let on that she was hurting. And that’s on Seth. Because he had one job—take care of her—and he’s a worthless piece of shit who wasn’t paying attention.
The sound of footsteps jolts Seth from his dark headspace.
He grabs the wall for support when he sees the doctor. “How is she?”
“She’s resting. Ms. Sutton’s sutures opened up, causing an infection in the wound. Her fever spiked, but fortunately you got her here in time for us to treat it.”
Seth shakes his head, numb. It’s still not the answer he needs. “So, she’ll be okay?”
“She’ll be fine. We’re giving her a course of IV antibiotics and fluids tonight and then will send her home with a seven-day course of antibiotics to clear up the infection.” The doctor pauses, says, “You getting her here as fast as you did saved her life. Otherwise, it could’ve taken a dark turn pretty fast.”
He swallows. A cinder block’s in his throat, stomping down his air.
The doctor turns to go. “You can see her whenever you’re ready.”
Seth manages a brief nod.
And then he’s moving. Running.
Only it’s not toward Lacey’s room. It’s in the direction of the restroom. He slams into the neon-lit space to brace the sink, to gulp cool air, to chase away a warm wave of nausea.
He grips the sink, his chest tightening.
Fuck. He can’t breathe ... his heart ... he’s having a heart attack ...
With a strangled gasp, Seth rips off his tie and throws it in the sink.
Smearing a shaky hand through his hair, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe evenly. Tries to use every ounce of strength not to break in fucking half.
He could have lost her. Before he ever had her. A world without Lacey? Unthinkable.
What would Sal do without her?
What would he do?
Because Lacey’s not just Sal’s sister. Or a fling. Or a friend. She’s his. The woman he—
The thought takes him down like a bullet.