The line went dead. I let my phone fall to my lap, feeling numb—frozen. Maybe it was a nightmare. Maybe I was still asleep at the lodge, and the man who resembled one of Graham’s security guards was an illusion. After all, Graham didn’t sound like himself. It had to be a nightmare, so I rubbed my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest, pinching the skin on my arm.
Nothing changed.
I was still in the same vehicle, staring at the back of the man who, in spite of my heart not wanting it to be true, was real.
Everything was real.
Reality fucking sucked.
The burly, buzz-haired blond in a black suit drove me to the hospital and escorted me to a waiting room on the fourth floor.
“Graham.”
He looked up from his hunched over position in the chair, slightly hidden by the two other security guys who stood with their backs to him. Graham didn’t look like an heir to one of the wealthiest families or the governor. Stripped of his tailored suit and a solid portion of his dignity, he looked almost unrecognizable to me.
Dark jeans with wrinkles like the anguish on his face.
Black snow boots.
Charcoal thermal shirt, half untucked.
Dark, sweaty hair that looked like his hands had tortured it a million times.
But the anguish on his face was most unrecognizable.
My friend was a pillar of strength and confidence, just like my husband—only Graham always had an aura of arrogance. That was gone. The only aura he possessed in that moment was one of devastation.
“Graham.” I shoved my way between the two security guards, dropping to my knees and hugging Graham’s defeated body.
He embraced me in a way he’d never embraced me before. It was desperate, fragile, and heartbreaking. “She’s in surgery.”
I nodded, gripping his shirt. We held each other together.
“Where’s Ronin?”
“They’re running tests on him.”
“What?” I released Graham, scrambling to my feet.
He grabbed my hands. “Something happened.”
“What does that mean?” I tried to pull away, to go find someone who could take me to my husband.
“He stopped breathing.”
I jerked my hand from his grip and cupped it at my mouth. “W-what?”
“They brought him back. Then he seemed fine. So now they’re running tests to figure out what happened.”
“W-was he injured too? With Lila?”
Graham stared at me, more like through me, completely unblinking.
“Graham!”
His gaze jumped to mine. “N-no …” He shook his head, a complete shell of his normal self, dazed and confused. “He wasn’t injured.”
I pulled my other hand away from him and shouldered my way between the two men again to find a nurse or anyone who could give me more information on Ronin.
“Can you help me find my husband?”
The nurse behind the counter glanced up from the computer. “What’s his name?”
“Ronin Alexander. He came in with my friend after a skiing accident. He’s ski patrol. He was trying to save her, but her husband said Ronin stopped breathing.” The words tumbled from my mouth without pause, leaving me breathless.
“I ordered some tests. We’ll have him in a room shortly.” A dark-haired woman turned to face me.
I homed in on her lab coat. Dr. Christine Allyn, M.D.
“Is he okay? Why did he stop breathing? Was he injured? Did he have a stroke or heart attack?”
Cancer. Brain tumor. Fatal infection.
Something wasn’t right with Ronin. I knew it in my gut since that first trip to the hospital. But that was years earlier. Surely if it were something like cancer or an infection, he would have gotten much worse. It didn’t make sense. Was he hiding something from me or downplaying what he perceived to be a random health crises that quickly passed without any apparent cause or explanation?
“He’s stable at the moment. We haven’t yet determined the cause of the incident, but we’re working on it.”
His. Heart. Stopped. Beating.
How was that an incident? A flat tire or tripping over uneven terrain on a sidewalk was an incident.
“What about Lila Porter? Has there been an update on her?”
The doctor narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry. We’re not at liberty to disclose any information about her outside of her family.”
“Give her an update,” Graham’s monotone voice crept up behind me.
“Of course, sir.” Dr. Allyn nodded before returning her attention to me. “They’re working to stop internal bleeding and repair fractures in her leg. I don’t anticipate her being out of surgery for several more hours.”
My mind liked to visit places it didn’t belong, like trying to imagine how I would ever survive if I lost my husband, my best friend, and my mom in the span of a year.
Death.
Why did I go there? I guess internal bleeding and resuscitation opened the door to think the worst. While I didn’t always try to think the worst, I tried to prepare for it.
“If she doesn’t make it,” Graham whispered behind me.
I whipped around, grabbing his shirt in my fists. His security guys took a warning step toward me, but I ignored them. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that.”