“A unicorn. Is this a thing? Does everyone think he’s a mythical creature?”
“He is magical, so it makes sense.” I leaned closer to Saint, irritated that his earthy scent was masked by the chemical stench of the hospital. My gaze drifted to the monitors, noting a spike in his heart rate. “Do you think he can hear us?”
Cam blinked at my sharp tone and squeezed Saint’s fingers. “The doctor said we wouldn’t know until he woke up and told us, but he can usually hear my thoughts from the next county, so...”
Saint’s pulse jumped again.
I took the earphone from Saint’s left ear. “Say his name.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Just do it.”
Cam pushed his chair back and stood, taking Saint’s hand with him. Another squeeze. “Saint?”
Nothing. At first. I stared at the numbers, willing them to rise.
And they did.
“Fuck,” Cam breathed. “Should we get someone?”
I shook my head and stroked Saint’s face. “They will do things to him he would not like. You trust him, don’t you?”
“With my fucking life.”
“Then trust him with his. He’s coming back. I can feel it.”
Cam’s gaze shone with unshed tears. “Tell him,” he whispered.
I took Saint’s other hand and dropped my face to his, my lips a hairbreadth from his scruffy jaw. “I never got the chance to say it before. Or maybe I did, and I was scared. But I love you, wingman. I hope you know this.”
Saint’s chest rose and fell in deeper breaths. His fingers twitched around mine, arm shifting. His lips rose, and he smiled.
Slowly.
Before his forest-green eyes fluttered open.
Yes.
I reached for Cam with my other hand, covered his and Saint’s, a pile of three. “Moye serdtse. There he is.”
Epilogue
Six months later
Saint
I didn’t speak for a month, even after Cam took me home to his cottage on Beach Road and held me hostage. I couldn’t. I had an unholy headache and even thinking about the sound of my own voice made me want to die.
But I didn’t die. I lay in Cam’s big bed and slept and slept and slept until I could walk to the bathroom without passing out.
Then I was done with that shit.
I escaped, and Cam and Alexei had to live in my van for two weeks straight until I was ready to be indoors again.
“I am still very cross with you about that.” Alexei sipped tar-like coffee, watching me over the rim of his mug. We were in the chapel, waiting for Cam. Waiting for everyone, actually, but for now we were alone.
“You don’t like my van?”