The pain that crossed his face had nothing to do with the injury. “Shit. I don’t remember that.”
“No wonder,” Chantel muttered. “How high were you?”
Zadie stayed silent, her arms still folded tight across her body, holding herself together. Then, with a long exhale, she leaned into me.
My arm went around her on instinct, my hand settling against her side, just above the swell of her stomach.
“Oh, hell.” Sean’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Are you two together?”
I answered with a stare. Long, hard, and daring him to have a problem with it. But his attention was locked on Zadie.
When she didn’t answer, mine locked on her too.
I waited.
And I waited some fucking more.
The air in my lungs constricted. My chest compressed. My heart rate spiked into something that felt a lot like panic.
This was it.
This was where she decided I wasn’t worth the risk. That the age gap was too wide, her past too heavy, my need for her too much. That friends would be enough after all.
Chantel had called me Prince Charming, and I’d laughed it off. But standing in that hospital room, watching the woman I loved hesitate in front of the man who’d broken her, it no longer felt like a joke.
The prince doesn’t always get the girl. Sometimes he’s left standing in an empty hallway with nothing but the memory of one perfect night to haunt him for the rest of his pointless life.
“Zadie?” Sean prompted. “Are you with Caleb?”
She stepped out of my hold, and I closed my eyes, bracing for the worst.
“Yes. We’re together. One hundred percent.”
My eyes opened, warmth flooding my chest so fast I nearly choked on it.
She reached back for my hand, and I took it, a grin splitting my face.
“Small world,” Sean managed through a pained attempt at laughter.
“Not really,” Chantel quipped.
Sean ignored her. “For real, though—this is a good thing. You look good together. Really good. Hot, even. Caleb, you’re?—”
“No.” Chantel’s voice cracked like a whip, making Sean flinch. “He’s not into guys. He’s not into you. Zadie’s definitely not into you.”
“Shit, relax.” He rubbed the side of his head gingerly. “I’m concussed, remember? I was kidding.”
“Keep it up and the brain damage will be permanent,” she warned. “Then they’ll have to call Dylan in here to arrest me.”
I watched the exchange, but my mind snagged on something beneath the banter. The way Sean’s grin faltered when Chantel mentioned Dylan’s name. The flash of something raw and unguarded in his expression before he buried it beneath charm.
He was still in love with Dylan.
I’d seen it five years ago, at the beginning of whatever the three of them had been. The way Sean watched Dylan when he thought no one was looking. The way his whole energy shifted when Dylan entered a room. I’d been seventeen and didn’t fully understood what I was seeing. But I’d known it was real.
It was still real. And it was still killing him.
“Cal, Chantel.” Zadie’s voice cut through the room. “I’d like to talk to Sean alone.”