Page 95 of The Front Runner
When Sylvia pulls away, her father shakes my hand, tearing up, unable to say anything. Which works just fine for me.
Her Nana, though, steps up close, gripping my chin tightly in her bony hand. And then she smiles. “How are you feeling?”
“Guilty,” I reply honestly, because there’s no lying to this woman.
Her head quirks, eyes twinkling. “Why?”
My palm rasps across my face. “I can’t help but feel responsible for her being here. Injured. God knows wha—” My voice cracks, and I look away.
She pats my chest and shakes her head. “Poor sweet fool. That girl was coming back for you. Don’t you know her well enough to know she doesn’t quit? She walked into that barn because that’s the type of person she is. A little prickly, but as loyal as they come once you get her. And don’t worry, you’ve got her. I rather think you’re stuck with her.”
Claws rake down the back of my throat. I know she’s trying to make me feel better, but the guilt is still there. Magnified by the longing I feel. I just want to be with her.
I want to hold her.
When she wakes up, I’m never walking away from her again. I’m going to bask in being stuck with her.
No matter what it takes.
And I’m going to tell her I love her. Over, and over, and over again.
32
Mira
Nothing makes sense.
A steady beeping sound filters through my consciousness. My eyelids are heavy like lead and my body aches. I roll my tongue through my mouth, chasing away the dryness as best I can, but my throat feels like sandpaper, raspy and sore enough to make me whimper.
I feel a squeeze on my forearm and a firm hold on the opposite hand.
My eyelids flinch as I force them open. It feels like there’s dirt inside them. I’m in a mostly dark room. Dim lights give it a sort of warm yellow glow. It strikes me that it’s probably nighttime.
“Hey.” I glance over at my best friend, into eyes lined with anxiety.
“Hi. God.” Her voice quavers. “It’s really fucking good to see you.”
I try to smile, finding comfort in the crass way Billie talks. It feels so normal. “Am I…” Jesus, my throat feels terrible.
“You’re in the hospital.” Her hands stroke my forearm, and she nods to my opposite side. I slowly turn my head, realizing I can feel someone holding my hand, but it’s not my friend. When I look down and to my left, I’m met with a slumped figure in a chair pulled close, a mop of beautiful dark gold hair resting on the bed beside me.
He’s here.
I sigh, my lungs burning and chest aching.
He’s clutching my hand like I’m his lifeline while he sits in an uncomfortable hospital chair, face resting on the bed by my thigh. He looks exhausted, but I soak in his face like I haven’t seen the sun in years. His sharp cheekbones, covered in more stubble than I’m used to seeing. His full lips slightly parted. The dark smudges beneath his eyes.
I feel confused about everything that is going on around me.
Except him.
I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.
“He hasn’t left your side,” Billie whispers. “Nadia had to bring him fresh clothes because he reeked of smoke but refused to leave you.”
Tears spring up in my eyes as I watch the beautiful man sleeping beside me. All I want is for him to hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay.
“He went into the burning barn—when everyone told him not to—and carried you out. If it wasn’t for him, I’m not sure we’d be sitting here today. I mean, he literally walked through fire for you.”
