Page 127 of Undone

I reached out, smoothing her hair back. “Me too,” I admitted. “But we’re here for him, okay? All of us.” I motioned toward the others, who were doing their best to hold it together.

She sniffled and leaned back into Trent, who whispered something to her I couldn’t make out.

Watching him, I remembered how Dotty had fallen apart when Trent was the one in that hospital bed, how I was just as broken that day and Dorian was the one to pull me through it.

But now it was he fighting for this life.

“The James family?”

The nurse’s voice jolted me. I stood too quickly, nearly losing my balance. The entire room froze, everyone turning toward her.

“Dorian’s out of surgery.” Her words came in quick, clinical sentences. “The procedure went well. We were able to repair the damage. He’s stable, but he’s going to need time to recover. You can see him soon, but he’ll still be under the effects of anesthesia.”

I felt a rush of air leave my lungs, like I’d been holding it in this whole time. Around me, everyone seemed to exhale at once. Sawyer let out a relieved curse, and Dotty reached for Trent’s arm.

“Would you like to see him?” she asked me.

“Oh no, I can’t. Someone else should.”

“Noah, go,” David said. Everyone else nodded.

Gracie’s small voice broke through the haze. “Can I see him too?” The nurse hesitated, glancing at me.

“I’ll check on him, and as soon as he’s awake, I’ll let you know, okay?” I told her.

Her lip wobbled again, but she nodded. Trent gave me a small, encouraging nod, his hand resting on her shoulder.

The walk to Dorian’s room seemed like the longest journey of my life. The nurse led me through the maze of hallways. The same speckled white tiles from before taunting me. My palms were damp, and I kept clenching and unclenching my fists, trying to shake off the tension that wouldn’t leave me.

When she pushed open the door, I stopped in the doorway.

Dorian lay there, pale but breathing. Machines beeped softly, monitoring his vitals. His leg was propped up, wrapped in bandages, and an IV snaked from his arm. He looked so still, so unlike himself, that it made something in my heart twist painfully.

I stepped inside and sank into the chair next to his bed. For a long moment, I simply sat there, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he was here.

He wasalive.

But the fear was still there. It sat there, a heavy knot in my stomach, refusing to let go.

“I’m so mad at you,” I murmured, my voice barely steady. “You told me you loved me when I wasn’t even there to say it back to your face. I’m so mad at you for doing this, but I’m so in love with you.”

The room was silent except for the machines. I wanted to take his hand, to feel some kind of connection, but I was afraid of jostling him, of doing something wrong. So, I just sat there, waiting.

Waiting for him to wake up.

FORTY-EIGHT

Dorian - November

IRIS - GRACE DAVIES

My body felt heavy,my leg was throbbing, and the pull of sleep still tried to drag me under.

I blinked, trying to understand where I was. There was constant beeping as blurry shapes around me came slowly into focus.

Then I remembered. Everything.

John. The gun shot. The call. Noah.

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