Page 142 of Warrior

We take the elevator up to the third floor. I follow her down the hall and we stop to get an update and find out where exactly to go.

“First and foremost,” the nurse says, “is that he is alive.”

I blow out a breath.

“He has a concussion from the accident. Our plastic surgeon stitched up a deep gash on his head, and he has a sprained wrist that we’ve wrapped. He seems to be in okay spirits. We told him that we called you.”

The last time I saw Saint—well, the last time I laid eyes on his face—was through the pixelated webcam. And he said helovedme.

I feel it.

I carry it.

And I want to say it back to his face, when I’m able to touch him. Being on Isle of Paradise… yes, it was exactly what I needed to hear to keep me going. But I’m just excited to see him, injured or not.

Especially since the nurse said he’sokay.

“Can I see him?” I ask.

The nurse nods. “Of course. Room 305.”

Dr. Hawthorne trails me down the hall, her steps slowing. “There’s someone else here I should check on,” she tells me. “You go on, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

Nerves at suddenly being abandoned flitter through me, but I shake it off and enter the room.

The bed closest to the door is empty. There’s a curtain pulled between it and the other one, and only the foot of Saint’s bed is visible.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I hurry around it.

“Surprise!” I call, popping into his view.

He might’ve been dosing. His eyes snap open, and he lifts his head. It takes him a second to focus on me.

There’s a bandage on his forehead, and his left forearm arm is wrapped. He has two black eyes and a scrape across his cheek. An IV in the top of his hand.

Something in me unknots.

He’sokay.

I go to the side of his bed. “You gave me quite the scare. How are you feeling?”

His gaze goes from my head to my toes and back up again. His brows pull together.

“Artemis? What are you doing here?”

I slip my hand into his and squeeze. “They let me out so I could see you.”

“Who let you out? The nurse said…” He frowns. “I’m confused.”

“I…” I glance over my shoulder. “Were you expecting Reese?”

He pulls his hand out of mine.

I cross my arms, trying not to let that simple action hurt.

What is going on?

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