Page 44 of Wicked Promises

“It was fine. Caleb and his friends were being protective.”

She smiles. But while she’s concerned about me, she looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Her eyes are puffy, and she wears leggings and a baggy sweater. Clean clothes is a good sign.

“They’ve been letting me stay in his room on a cot now that he’s out of the ICU, but…” She tries to smile, but her chin wobbles.

Impulsively, I hug her again.

Her lips brush the top of my head, and I close my eyes.

“He’s going to be okay,” she whispers. “You’re safe. He’s safe.”

I blink back tears. “Okay.”

“He was asking for you.”

I pull back slightly. “He’s awake?”

“Yes, they just gave him breakfast. It’s the first meal he’s had…” She covers her mouth. “I’m just so thankful you both got through this.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so I say, “I’m glad Caleb found me.”

Her face falls. “God, Margo, the police took him out of here so forcefully, I didn’t know what to think.”

“It wasn’t Caleb,” I say firmly.

“I believe you.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and leads me down the hall. “And I know the detective was rather critical, but I wouldn’t let you stay in the same house as Caleb if I thought he had something to do with it.”

I tilt my head. “But… you did point the detective in Caleb’s direction while I was gone, didn’t you?”

“He asked if you were dating anyone. I didn’t realize he was going to single him out.”

Yeah. I wouldn’t have guessed it either.

We stop in front of a door to a private room.

“Are you ready to see Robert?”

We enter. He’s propped up in bed, a rolling table in front of him with a plate of food on it, and… so much medical equipment surrounds him. Wires disappear under his gown, there’s an IV taped to his arm. He has a tube under his nose for oxygen.

How can a person go from strong to so frail in days? His skin is pale. His face is covered in healing cuts and fading bruises, and his right arm is in a cast, slung to his chest.

This is my fault. I put him here.

I can’t move.

But I still catch his eye—or maybe it’s thesnickof the door closing.

His whole damn face lights up.

And me? I burst into tears.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for me. He pushes the table away.

I’m stuck in guilt, my shoes glued to the floor. How do people overcome anguish?

“Margo.” His hand is still stretched toward me.

I finally move, venturing closer. They had intubated him for a collapsed lung, sedated him. And now…