“Yep. I want to see him.”

“We’re hanging out too,” Reed says, throwing his arm around Beth when she moves to stand beside him. “Why don’t you head home, Riley? Get some rest.”

My lips part. I look to Beth and watch her eyes soften and a frown tug at her mouth. She hears it too.

You don’t belong here with us.

CJ is their friend. Not mine. Why would I hang around? I’m not a part of their group.

I don’t belong here.

“Yeah, I probably should . . . get cleaned up,” I say, tugging at the hem of my blood-stained shirt.

Ben and Luke utter their collective “Laters” and head out. Tessa gives me a smile before she reclaims her seat near the soda machine. I hug Beth one last time, then watch her and Reed join Tessa. They turn their chairs so they’re facing each other, and wave at me as I walk past.

None of them ask me to stay. Nobody even suggests it.

I cry the entire way back to Richard’s house.

It’s been two days since the night of the concert.

Two days of walking the same hospital halls and staring at the muted paint colors. Two days of smelling antiseptic in the air.

We’ve all been here—Reed and Beth and Tessa, Ben and Luke when they weren’t working, and the boys, Nolan and Chase. Mia brought them. Everyone has been in and out of the hospital, visiting CJ.

Everyone but me.

I’ve been here, but I’ve gone unseen for the most part. I haven’t been in his room to see him. Saturday, both times that I came by and Sunday when I showed up after I was finished at the soup kitchen I volunteer at, CJ had visitors. His friends and my family or other cops that were in uniform, they gathered in his room. People who should be visiting him. People he has history with. And once I saw his company, I left.

What did I have with him? Why would I have reason to visit? I didn’t even belong in the waiting room with everyone else.

Besides not knowing if I have a reason to be in CJ’s room, I’m scared to face him. So nervous my stomach is in knots as I walk in through the main hospital entrance on my third day in a row and head for the elevators.

It’s my fault he’s in here. It’s my fault he had to have emergency surgery after lacerating his Achilles. I dragged Richard to that concert instead of letting him stay at home and because of that, CJ was hurt.

CJ was hurt and Richard is now in jail.

Not that I care about Richard anymore. I don’t. Not after what he did. Not after I found out he was high that night. But I do care about CJ. He had gotten hurt trying to get to me. He wanted to protect me from the boy I gave my heart to. I know he did. I saw his face before he was pushed through that window. He tried to protect me and I got him hurt.

I did this. This is all my fault.

What if he doesn’t want to see me now? What if he’s angry and he tells me I have no business visiting him?

What if he hates me for what I let happen?

Wiping my sweaty palms on my scrub pants, I step off the elevator and peer around the corner, looking for Reed or anyone else who might question my reason for being on this floor.

It’s Monday, so everyone should be working, but I’m still cautious. I need to be.

The hallway is clear of anyone besides hospital workers filtering in and out of rooms. Feeling good about that, I round the corner and start moving.

I just want to tell CJ how sorry I am. And I really want to make sure he’s going to be okay. I know his surgery went well, and Beth told me yesterday CJ seems to be making a steady recovery, but I want to see it for myself.

I need to see it for myself. I need to get the image of him lying in a pool of blood out of my head.

Deep voices stop me just before I reach CJ’s room. I plaster myself against the wall and listen, head turned toward the door. I recognize one of the voices as Ben.

“You pulled this shit on purpose. Don’t lie,” he laughs. “I saw the nurses that are coming in here.”

“For real. How many times has that one asked if you need your linens changed?” Luke’s voice filters out into the hallway next.

I pinch my eyes shut.

Crap.

What if they see me? They could easily tell Reed I was lurking outside CJ’s room. And that’ll just stir up suspicions.

Although . . .

I look down at myself.

My uniform. Yes. I can just say I’m here for clinical, which I am, just not entirely. I’ll only be half-lying. I can pull off a half-lie. No problem.

Of course, they are cops. Human lie detectors. This could totally backfire on me.

Can I be thrown in jail for lying to the police?

Maybe I’ll just try and see CJ on my lunch break . . .

“Later, man,” Ben calls out, his voice louder as if he’s closer to the door. Closer to me. “We’ll drop by tomorrow.”

“Or you can save us the hassle and quit fakin’. This visiting you shit is getting old,” Luke throws out, his voice equally as loud as Ben’s.

My head whips left and then right. I realize my best move here is to flee the scene so I don’t risk jail time, but I unfortunately realize this a second too late.

Ben backs out of the room, turns his head and looks down at me. His eyes are assessing. He’s dressed in his uniform.

So is Luke, who does the same, stepping out and following Ben’s gaze.

Busted.

Body still plastered to the wall, I blink up at them. My panic filled eyes jump between their faces.

I watch Ben smile, that all knowing kind of smile that tells me he’s connected the dots. He knows I’ve had sex with CJ. Why else would I be here? That or his wife has been blabbing and finally shared the news of my wedding weekend walk of shame. Thanks a lot, Mia. I swallow thickly, then I look to Luke.