Page 132 of Falling Into Forever
DANTE
“She didn’t know if Dante would still want her, and that was the most painful truth she’d ever had to face.”
“How could you ever think that?” I flinch. Jesus, did I get shot in the ears? Why did that sound like a garbage disposal?
Saylor’s body jerks beside me, and I try desperately to blink, but my eyelids are weighed down, and I must be using sandpaper for contacts.
“Oh my God,” Saylor whispers.
“Just. A sec…”
“Oh my God,” she screams. “Oh. Oh. Oh. Get someone. Get someone quick. Get them here now.”
“Sayls, wait…”
“Oh my God,” Ainsley cries.
“Did he? Did he just?” Fucking Grady.
Christ. Is the entire town of Hope Hollow here?
Finally, my eyes follow a basic command and open. I’m flooded with light and snap them closed again.
“Turn off the lights,” Saylor barks.
“No, give me a minute,” I say, but it sounds like I’m chewing on bark.
Chaos erupts around me as doctors filter in, giving commands and touching machines.
“I need everyone to clear the room,” a young doctor says while reading a chart, and I grimace. That was a mistake. Saylor moves before I can say anything to stop her.
“If you tell me to leave this room one more time, I will cut out your tongue myself. Do I make myself clear?”
The doctor pales, as one would when threatened with such a gruesome crime, but Blake steps in.
Where the hell did he come from?
“She stays,” Blake says with an air of authority that no one, not even the doctor, questions. “Also, fair warning, she’s been up for at least three days, maybe four. Tread lightly.”
“Okay,” the doctor says, “but we do need her to move back so we can examine him.”
Sassy Saylor is in full force today. No matter what Grady, Lena, or Ainsley try, she refuses to leave the room.
While the doctors poke, prod, and ask me questions for close to an hour, Saylor climbs into the recliner and falls asleep.
It’s hours before she even twitches. Doctors come and go. I go for scans and tests. Our family takes turns checking on us. And all the while, she doesn’t move a muscle.
“I knew the girl could tell a story, but talking for nearly four damn days straight is a new record,” Grady whispers.
It’s hard, but I finally turn away from her. Grady sits in a small chair on my other side. “You look like shit,” I say. And I’m not just giving him a hard time. He truly looks like shit. I might be better off than him, and I’m the one who got shot.
“Yeah,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve heard that a lot today.”
“Something going on?” I ask, even though the pain meds kick in, and I stifle a yawn.
“Lena’s pretty upset. She’s not sure what she should tell Poppy.” He scratches at his beard like it’s irritating him.
“Shit. I haven’t really had time to process any of this.”
