I shove the blanket off my legs, twisting to get up, but the IV tugs painfully at my arm, along with the heart monitor sticker stuck to my chest and I yank both off of me. My vision swims, my body weaker than I thought, but none of it matters.

Ihaveto see him.

Dr. Marshall turns back just in time to see me struggling, his expression darkening. “Willow,stop.”

But I don’t. I push my weak body forward to the man I love.

4

VINCENT

Ipace the hospital lobby, the dim overhead lights casting my shadow against the wall, stretching and shrinking with each step. My fingers twitch at my sides, an itch I can’t scratch, a weight pressing down on my ribs. Six weeks.

Six weeks since I last saw Willow.

I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair as I think about the phone call I just had with Cast. Damien came in with a concussion. It should bother me more, but I didn’t care that the man I once called my brother faded in and out of consciousness because the girl I loved refused to see me.

I grind my teeth, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The coffee shop to the left of the reception desk is open, its scent of burnt espresso drifting through the air, but I don’t turn towards it until I spot Willow’s nurse.

I spot Lindsey before she even makes it to the coffee shop, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she strides toward the counter. I don’t hesitate. I slip in ahead of her, flashing my best easygoingsmile at the barista, even though my insides feel like they’ve been carved out.

“Cinnamon oat milk latte, extra hot, half sweet, one pump of vanilla, two pumps of cinnamon dolce, light foam, sprinkle of cinnamon on top,” I recite smoothly, not missing the way Lindsey stops short beside me, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The barista blinks. “You, uh… want that in a large?”

I slide my card over the counter. “Obviously.”

Lindsey folds her arms, lips pursing. “So what, you’ve been paying attention to my coffee orders now?”

I turn toward her, slipping my hands into my pockets, still playing it casual even though I’m anything but. “I pay attention to the people standing between me and the love of my life.” I let the words settle, watching her reaction. “And you, Lindsey, have been the very enthusiastic gatekeeper of my misery.”

She exhales, glancing away as the barista hands me the drink. I take it, then extend it to her, meeting her gaze head-on. “Call it a bribe. A thank-you. A peace offering. Whatever gets me through that damn door.”

She doesn’t take it right away. For a second, I think she’s going to tell me to go to hell. But then she sighs and grabs the cup, eyeing me over the lid. “This isn’t going to work.”

I tilt my head. “The coffee or my devastating charm?”

Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “Both.” She takes a sip and actually groans in satisfaction before leveling me with a look. “I can’t let you in, Vincent.”

I knew she was going to say that, but it still sends a sharp bolt of frustration through me. I exhale slowly, dragging a handthrough my hair before I let my eyes drop to hers again, softer this time. “Then tell me. Anything.”

Lindsey hesitates, tapping her fingers against the coffee cup.

I step closer, lowering my voice. “She’s getting worse, isn’t she?”

A flicker flashes in her eyes, one she quickly masks. “She’s stable.”

It’s not an answer.

I clench my jaw, but before I can press her, she sighs and glances toward the elevators. “She—” She stops, biting her lip like she’s debating whether or not she should continue. Then, finally, she mutters, “She’s looking into an experimental trial.”

My breath catches. “A trial?”

Lindsey nods, voice quieter now. “A partial mechanical heart. It could buy her time. Maybe more than that.”

Something tight and painful coils in my chest. Hope. Fear. A volatile mix of both. “And she’s considering it?”

Lindsey studies me for a beat before answering. “She’s scared.” She shifts her weight, exhaling. “And she’s stubborn. She thinks she’s protecting you by keeping you away, but…” She shakes her head. “You know how she is.”