“I recorded everything!” Reese screams. His voice cracks into something hysterical. “Beau came to me! He came to me with the plan! I recorded every conversation, every confession, it’s on my phone! It’s all on my phone!”
He reaches into his pocket with a shaking hand and holds up a phone. “Every word, Hunter! The Greeks! Ashley! The setup! Irecorded it because I knew he’d turn on me! Take it—please, just don’t let me die here!”
I can’t look at him. I can’t think about him. I can’t process anything beyond the woman in my arms, whose pulse I keep checking with my thumb because every time her eyes close, I forget how to breathe.
Drago crosses the room and takes the phone from Reese’s hand. He looks at me. “If what he’s saying is true, this clears everything.” He pockets the phone. “The murder charge. The bail violation. All of it.”
I nod. I think I nod. My face doesn’t feel like mine.
“That evidence don’t save you, Reese. Not for this,” I tell him and turn to look my best friend in the eyes as I deliver his death sentence.
Tears roll down his face as he shakes his head. “Hunter, please. You know me. I didn’t mean?—.”
“Shut the fuck up.” I hiss and look at Jett, “Get him out of my face.”
“I’ll handle the cops,” Drago says, his voice dropping lower. “The cleanup, I'll make it disappear. You focus on her. We’ve got Beau being moved out back so the paramedics don’t see him.”
I don’t care; my brother is dead. The only person in this building I care about is fading in and out of consciousness in my arms.
Her head rests against my chest. Her breathing is shallow. Every few seconds, her eyes open, and it feels like my heart is in my throat.
“Lola. Baby. I need you to stay awake for me.”
Her lips move. “…Wyatt?”
“He’s safe. He’s with Colten. He’s safe, baby.”
Her hand twitches against my shirt. Trying to grip, but she doesn’t have the strength.
“I love you, Lola. Do you hear me? I love you so fucking much it’s the only thing keeping me upright right now.” My voice breaks. I let it. “You don’t get to leave me. We had a deal. Ride or fucking die. And you are not dying on me. Please, firefly. Don’t leave me.”
Her eyes flutter open, and they find mine. Even as the tears stream down my face. For a second, the fog clears, and she’s there, really there.
“…love you,” she whispers.
A sound escapes me that’s half laugh and half sob. The most broken noise I’ve ever made. “I’ve got you, city girl. I’ve got you.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. Almost a smile. Then her eyes roll back, and she goes limp.
“Lola!”
I press my fingers to her neck. Her pulse is okay. But that doesn’t stop the panic rising through me. The fear that the love of my life might leave me.
“Where is that fucking ambulance?” I shout.
“Two minutes,” Drago calls from somewhere behind me.
Two minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds.
I press my face into her hair. Breathe her in.
“You saved my son,” I whisper against her temple. “You stayed, Lola. You chose him over yourself.”
My tears are falling into her hair. I don’t wipe them. “I told you this morning you were playing house. And you spent the whole day proving me wrong in ways I’ll never be able to repay.”
I rock her gently. Feel her heartbeat against my chest.
“You come back to me, firefly. You come back to me, and I’ll never say another stupid thing as long as I live. I’ll worship you until the day I die. I’ll take you to the lake every night to see the fireflies. I’ll cook you breakfast and carry you up the stairs and put my hat on your head every morning.”