“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 Nanna wouldn't answer her cell for me, now I have no choice but to resort to leaving a message with one of her housekeepers.

“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 Nanna it would behoove her to pick up her cell phone and listen to her voicemails once in a while.”

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.

Because it always fucking hurts.

Because the pain never goes away.

Death is a wound that never heals. You can't bandage, stitch, or fix it.

It's chronic. Incurable. Permanent. Final.

And it doesn't just end the life it takes...it destroys a huge part of those who are left behind. The people who are forced to continue living in a world where their loved ones no longer exist.

It's a punishment no one deserves.

“Preston said Landon was trying to protect you both when he was shot,” Breslin chokes out. “I didn't know he was there. Preston never told us. Why didn't he tell us Kyle shot him?”

“I'm so sorry,” I whisper, even though I don't deserve her forgiveness. “I know it doesn't take back what I did, I just need you to know.”

She stands up slowly, her limbs shaking like tree branches in a hurricane. “I don't—”

I rise from the floor. “Kyle had no idea who Landon was. That's why Preston never mentioned he was with us when he was on the phone. He didn't want Asher to freak out and give Kyle a reason to hurt him. Kyle didn't shoot Landon until after the phone call.”

She staggers back. “If he didn't know who Landon was, then why did he do it?” She looks me up and down. “You and Preston aren't injured. Did Landon step in when Kyle tried to attack one of you?”

I start to close my eyes but think better of it. The least I can do is look at her as I confess. “Not exactly. I don't know the precise—”

“What do you mean you don't know, Kit? You were there when Kyle shot him, weren't you?”

My culpability is asphyxiating me, but she deserves to know the truth.

“No, not technically.”

“Where were you?”

“In the elevator with Preston.” I take a step forward. “Landon attacked Kyle so we could have a chance to escape. He did more than protect us, he saved our lives.”

A strangled sound breaks out and she grips her stomach. “You mean to tell me you just ran off? You didn't stop when Kyle shot him? Never tried to help him? Instead you left him to die by himself on the cold cafeteria floor...like some kind of sacrificial lamb?”

My heart bottoms out and fractures right down the center. I go to hug her, tell her how much I hate myself, but she shoves me away.

“Don't—”

“She didn't leave him,” a deep voice booms behind me. “I pulled her in the elevator and refused to let her out. She didn't have a choice.” He walks up to her. “I know you're upset, but don't make her feel worse than she already does. If you're looking for someone to blame, blame me. Landon gave me an out and I took it.”

The sound of Breslin's hand whipping across Preston's cheek is deafening. “You are the most selfish person I've ever met in my life.”

He rubs the red mark she left. “Considering who your father is, I find that hard to believe.”

I open my mouth to inform him this is not the time or place to be his typical mordant self, but Breslin surges forward. “Listen to me and listen good, you arrogant asshole.” She points to his chest. “If you ever felt anything inside this vacant cavity for your brother, you'd quit using him to clean up your messes and stay away...before he ends up just like my Landon.”

Preston's firm expression falters. “Bre—”

“No. Don't even try it. I'm not your brother, and I'm definitely not one of your little sluts, bookies, or poker buddies. You can't con or swindle me with your bullshit lines or excuses. I see you for the piece of self-serving shit you really are.”

She takes a step back, her furious stare bouncing between us before resting on me. “I don't know what to say to you. But don't follow me when I turn around.”

With that, she storms off...and the organ in my chest that was hanging by a thread, pulverizes.

The events of the last twenty-four hours crash into me like a tidal wave and big, ugly tears retch out of me.

In one long stride, Preston pulls me to him until I'm wrapped up in nothing but his warmth. A sturdy wall of protection between me and all the remorse and heartache I'm drowning in.

I know I shouldn't let him near me, let alone touch and console me, but his arms are the only thing preventing me from hitting rock bottom.

I can't even begin to understand it and I'm not so sure I want to. All I know is I need this. I need him right now.

Even though it's nothing more than an illusion, I need to feel like someone in this world actually cares about me...or I'll shatter into so many parts, it'll be impossible to ever put myself back together again.

“I've got you,” he says before he lifts me into his arms and starts walking.

I know he does. It makes no sense, just like nothing else does...but I believe him.

I latch onto Preston like he's an anchor, crying so hard I lose every ounce of air from my lungs with each sob.

Even though we shouldn't be friends. Even though I detest the kind of person he is.

Even though I should know better.

I trust Preston Holden.