Page 59 of Speed

“No, you could never match me for stupid,” he whispered.

“No shit,” I panted, wrung out and on the verge of a crying jag. Also, I was feeling crappy now—stupid sugar. Sometimes, I could live with my illness, and other times, I wanted to be normal. Boyfriend does something stupid? Eat a pint of ice cream, then watch a chick flick like the rest of the world. No, not Noah Gunnarsson. I needed to piss. Again. Not a great sign. “I need insulin.”

He went pale. “What can I do?”

I looked right at him. “You can stop trying to protect me. We do this together. All of it. The good, the bad, and the fucking ugly.” He nodded. “Now kiss me, then let me get my sugar down, then we’ll go to the hospital. Together.”

His lips touched mine, sweetly, shyly. I let my head drop to his shoulder for a moment, then I did what my body needed. I rested after the spike, while he returned to shaving. When I was feeling better, we left my apartment. Together.

With security tight to us, we sneaky-snuck out of the janitor’s exit to a waiting car.

We rode to the hospital in DC. Together.

We were rushed into yet another side door. Together.

And when we were in his private room, we stood at the window and stared out at the Washington Monument in the distance.

Together.

I could feel his anxiety from ten feet away. He didn’t pace or chew his lip; he kind of vibrated with worry. Nurses came and went as he changed into funky little grippy socks and one of those sexy-as-hell hospital gowns. When I was helping him tie the strings on the back of his gown, the door to his room opened again.

“That’s certainly a look, B,” a woman’s voice said. I glanced over his shoulder to see Jemima Wren standing just inside the doorway, bracketed by two behemoth bodyguards. She tossed her ballcap and shades to the bed as I gawked like a dodo. “Your knees are still super cute.”

“Jem, why are you here?” Brody asked as the slim olive-skinned woman embraced him while her dark eyes met mine. “When we talked yesterday, you said you were in Canada recording a new album.”

“I was. I’m here to wish you well. Course, I had to annoy the hell out of Logan to get the truth about where and when you were going under the knife.” She pecked his cheek, and then, smiled at me. I'm glad to hear it wasn’t just me he had been hiding this from. “And is this your personal nurse? He’s adorable. And those curls! But I’m not sure dirty Nikes are exactly sterile.”

“I’m Noah.” I reached over Brody’s shoulder to shake her hand. “I’m his boyfriend.”

“I know.” She winked. “The whole world knows.” She smiled down at Brody. “I’m so proud of you, B, for coming out boldly. That was a monster fuck-you to the uptight racing world and your asshole grandfather.”

“I’m not so sure it was the fuck-you that you think it was, but it felt right.” He glanced back at me, grinning at the pop superstar in baggy jeans, ratty sneakers, and a blue tee with a plump penguin on the front. “We’re together.”

I hugged him from behind. Hard. Finally. Hefinallygot it. Jointly. With each other. That was the only way to face down the hard shit that life flung at you. With the person you love at your side. My fathers taught me that. Nothing could knock you down if you faced it with love.

Together.

NINETEEN

Brody

Darkness ebbedand flowed around me, a heavy fog as I fought my way back to the surface. My eyelids felt weighted down, my limbs slow and unresponsive. There was a distant beeping, a rhythmic sound that anchored me, and as I managed to blink my eyes open, the first thing I saw was Logan.

He stood in the corner of the room, arms crossed, expression unreadable, but his presence steady and unwavering. The sterile white walls of the hospital room blurred behind him. I wanted to call his name, but my throat felt thick, and my voice was nonexistent.

Then, something else—warmth. Pressure around my hand. My gaze shifted downward, and there was Noah, his fingers curled around mine, his head bowed as if he’d been waiting forever. My chest tightened, not in pain, but because I heard Noah say something, his voice a low hum against the haze in my head. I blinked again.

I’m alive. I can feel his hand. I need to tell him that.

But the words never formed, my mind slipping away before I could force them out.

I surfaced again;my body sluggish but less heavy this time. The world was still hazy, but the light in the room was different—softer, warmer. My throat ached, dry and raw, but I managed to move my lips, whispering the thought that had been locked in my head. “I’m alive.”

There was a rustling beside me, and I heard voices. Noah. Logan.

Noah’s hand squeezed mine, his voice urgent. “What did he say?”

“I don’t know,” Logan said, closer now.

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