Page 101 of Filthy Rich Santas

Hate that she’s hurting in the first place.

I’m too keyed up to take any of the chairs in the waiting room, and I’m not sure how much time passes before Tristan and Ryder finally burst through the emergency room doors to find me pacing in front of the doors they took Lana through.

It can’t have beenthatlong, but with no word on Lana, it feels like forever.

They spot me and rush over.

“How is she?” Tristan demands, his usual calm demeanor cracking.

“Any news?” Ryder adds, his voice tight.

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling heavily. “She woke up for a bit in the ambulance. Seemed to recognize me, at least. That’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

“Sure,” Ryder says, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder as Tristan nods, concern still lingering in his eyes.

I get it. It matches the knot in my gut that won’t fucking go away.

“We should sit,” Tristan says.

Ryder keeps that hand on me and guides me toward a row of chairs, but all I manage is a few distracted grunts as the two of them murmur in low tones to each other.

I can’t stop replaying the words Lana and I exchanged in my head. I refuse to let the harsh words I spat at her—words I didn’t think through before saying and definitely didn’t mean the way she took them—be the last ones she hears from me. That’s totally unacceptable.

My hands clench into fists. “If something happens to her…”

“It won’t.”

My head snaps up at Tristan’s raspy tone. I didn’t even realize I said it out loud.

“She’s going to be fine,” he goes on, his eyes holding mine like he’s challenging me to disagree. “Nothing’s going tohappento her.”

My teeth grind together. “Something already did happen.”

“Yeah, and doctors are going to fucking fix it,” Ryder whisper-shouts. “That’s why we’re fucking here!”

Under other circumstances, I almost would have smiled at the way they’re both in my face right now. And it does help to know they’re just as worked up about this as I am.

But it doesn’t relieve any of the guilt.

No matter how much I want to believe that they’re both right, the truth is, we just don’t fucking know yet. And if they’re not, and the last thing Lana heard from me was that bullshit I was spewing, I’ll never forgive myself.

Finally, a doctor approaches us. “Family of Lana Reeves?”

We all stand, and to her credit, she doesn’t question our claim.

I step forward. “How is she?”

The doctor gives us a reassuring smile. “Ms. Reeves is doing fine now. She’s conscious and alert?—”

“Then why the fuck did she collapse?” Ryder interrupts.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, and Ryder grimaces.

“Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. I understand how frightening it can be, but it seems she just got a bit dehydrated. Would you like to come back and see her?”

Relief floods through me at her reassuring tone, even though I still don’t get how something like dehydration could have hit her so hard. That shit can get sorted out later, though. Right now, taking the doctor up on her offer is the only thing that matters.

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