Page 83 of Still Missing You

“That’s not the same.”

Silence settles between us. I swallow hard. “If something happens to him—”

“Don’t,” Linc’s voice turns hard.

I look up. His gaze is steady, unyielding. “Don’t go there.”

I nod once, but I can’t stop thinking about it. The thought won’t let go. I can’t stand the idea of losing Dylan like this. Not after finally getting him back, even if it was just for a little while. Not after realizing how much he still means to me.

The doors at the end of the hallway slide open, and I’m on my feet before I even realize I’ve moved. A doctor steps out, pulling off his gloves. My heart slams against my ribs.

“Hunter Cade?” he asks.

“That’s me,” I say immediately, stepping forward.

He studies me for a second. “Are you family?”

“I’m his fiancé,” I lie.

The doctor nods, accepting my claim without question.

“Alright,” he says. “We’ve stabilized him.”

My breath catches. “Is he—?”

“He’s going to be okay,” the doctor says.

The words hit me like a physical force. My knees almost give out.

“We were able to remove the bullet,” he continues. “He was lucky. It missed all the major organs. There was significant blood loss, but we managed to control the bleeding.”

I exhale shakily, tension draining out of me all at once. “He’ll make a full recovery?”

The doctor nods. “He’s young and otherwise healthy. He’ll need time, but he should recover completely.”

I drag a hand over my face, relief so overwhelming it almost hurts. “Thank you. Can I see him?”

“Soon,” the doctor says. “He’s being moved to recovery now. A nurse will come get you.”

I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

The doctor gives me a brief, reassuring look before heading down the hall.

I turn back to Linc and Colin. “He’s okay.”

Colin nods, and Linc smirks. “Told you.”

The tight knot in my chest loosens. I huff out a weak laugh. “Yeah, you did.”

***

It feels like years before the nurse finally leads me down the hallway to Dylan’s room. Each step is surreal, like I’m walking through a dream. Finally, the nurse stops next to an open door.

The room is quiet when I enter. Dim lighting leaves the small space shadowy. Soft beeping from the monitors fills the room. Dylan lies in the hospital bed, pale but unmistakably alive. An IV runs into his arm. Bandages wrap his side and peek out from his loose hospital gown.

For a moment, I just stand there, taking him in. A part of me can’t believe he’s real. I move closer, carefully, as if I’m afraid he might disappear. I clasp my hand in his, hovering over him. His eyes are closed, purple bruises standing out in the low light, and I swallow down the sudden surge of rage. His skin, warm against my palm, eases some of the tension gripping me.

His lashes flutter. Slowly, he opens his eyes, and his gaze finds mine immediately.