Fold

“It only hurts when I breathe.” —Kit Bishop

“She's not available. May I take a message?”

Irritation crawls up my spine as I cradle the hospital phone between my ear and shoulder. It's bad enough my Na

“Actually, you can. Tell her that her only granddaughter is in the hospital after she was almost shot and killed at her college university today, and she could really use some family support. Perhaps a ride home too, if it's not too much to ask.”

“I can't make any guarantees that I will reach her in a timely fashion, but I'll be sure to pass your message along. Might I suggest that it would behoove you in the future to call her cell phone regarding these particular situations.”

“I did. Six times since I've been here.”

“I see. Well, in that case, is there anything else I can do for you, miss?”

“Yeah, tell my Na

I ignore the obnoxious snort coming from the other side of the curtain and slam the phone down on the receiver.

I think about calling Becca next, but a nurse walks in.

“When can I go home?”

She gives me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. “Not for a few more hours I'm afraid. Given the circumstances, the doctor wants you to talk to a social worker before he clears you for discharge.”

She pats my leg sympathetically before she turns to leave.

“Wait.” I maneuver off the stretcher turned pseudo bed and stand. “Any news on Landon Parker yet?”

Both Preston and I tried asking the police about him after we were forced to come out of the elevator with our hands up, but they wouldn't tell us anything.

The gruesome cafeteria we walked into didn't provide any answers either, seeing as most of the crime scene was covered with tarps and whatever wasn't...was in a body bag.

I couldn't bring myself to count them. And given the way his hand enclosed mine when I impulsively reached for it at that moment, I don't think Preston could either.

Well, except for one—because they were still zipping him up as the police escorted us out.

I fight off a shiver as Kyle's lifeless eyes bore through my mind.

Even in death, they looked exactly the same. Hollow.

Like all the pain in his heart ate right through his soul...but not before stripping him of every ounce of his humanity first.

I don't think I'll ever be able to get the visual out of my head.

“I'm sorry,” the nurse says, zapping me out of my thoughts. “I can't give out any information.”

“He was my friend.” My voice cracks and I know I'm a razor's edge away from losing it again, but I'm powerless to my emotions. “He saved my life.”

The curtain dividing the small hospital room opens swiftly.

“And mine,” Preston says, positioning himself at the end of his bed and crossing his arms.

The nurse looks between the both of us. “I really can't—”

“What if it was you?” I question at the same time Preston says, “He's my brother's boyfriend. I know that doesn't technically qualify us as family but I think it warrants telling me if he's alive or not.”

His stoic expression softens slightly. “I don't need to know specific details, but I'd appreciate it if you could give me a heads up. This way I can prepare myself for when my brother walks through those doors and I have to pull the rug right out from under him.”

I know Preston's only trying to persuade the nurse, but a lump swells in my throat when I realize I'll have to do the same for Breslin.

She frowns. “He was airlifted to the hospital.”

Relief flows through me because that means he's alive, but then she says, “His injuries are substantial, so you should probably prepare your brother for the worst. That's really all I can say at this point, I'm sorry.”

Tears blur my vision when she walks out, and I clutch the side of the bed. It's like someone took out my beating heart and submerged it in a sea of guilt.

“Kit,” Preston starts to say at the same time Breslin and Asher charge into the room.

I barely have time to process what's happening before Breslin's wrapping me up in a hug so tight it hurts, and Asher does the same to Preston.

“Thank God you're okay,” she whispers, and I lose the tiny shred of composure I was clinging to.

I can't do this to her. I know this grief too well and I'd rather walk through fire than ever put my best friend through it.

She cradles my face in her hands, mistaking my dread for affliction. “Kit, honey, it's okay. You're okay.”

No, I'm not okay and it's not okay. Nothing will ever be okay again...and it's all my fault.

Landon wouldn't have been in that cafeteria if it wasn't for me.

Oh God. I can't breathe. Truth is a tenacious, callous bitch. She could give Karma a run for her money any day.

No matter how you slice it, there's no way his death won't fall on my shoulders.

I'm responsible for taking a sweet and caring human like Landon out of this world.

It makes me no better than the pilot who took my parents.

“What's going on?” Asher whispers.

I look down at the floor and suck in a breath, trying with all my might to gather the courage it will take to say the words that will shatter both their hearts.

“Kit,” Breslin says sharply.

I curl my arms around myself. “Landon was in the cafeteria with us.”

She stares at me in confusion and I know she's not comprehending what I'm saying because how could she?

Landon's supposed to be in England and Preston never told them he was in the cafeteria.

I'm not just pulling the rug out from under her, I'm pulling the entire world out from under her.

I know how much she loves Landon. Hell, I knew she was in love with him before she even knew she was.

How do you tell your best friend you're not only responsible for her boyfriend being in harm's way in the first place...but you left the man she loves to die?

I can't do it.

Even though she deserves to hear it from me and I should be the one to tell her...

I just don't have what it takes to break someone's heart. It's an ability I never inherited.

I look over at Preston. I need him to do it.

He meets my eyes briefly before he says the words I can't bring myself to. “He was trying to protect us and Kyle shot him.”

Breslin blanches and blinks, too shocked to understand a word of what Preston told her. Not until a guttural sound tears from Asher's throat just before he runs out of the room and she follows him.

I'm right on her heels, which is a good thing; because when a woman wearing bloody scrubs—the same woman Asher's currently yelling obscenities at—says Landon's name, she clutches her chest and sways.

I fold my arms around her and we both fall to the ground. She's so hysterical I don't even think she realizes she's screaming Landon's name. Not that it matters, because inside I'm screaming, too.

Screaming how sorry I am.

Screaming how much I regret ever making Landon go to the cafeteria with me.

Screaming how I wish I fought Preston harder in the elevator.

Screaming how much I want to take her pain away...even though I know I'll never be able to.

I'm screaming just like I used to.

Because it hurts.