“Liam, you might have done some stupid shit in the past. Fucked up in the worst ways, but we still… love you.” I pulled the chair by the bed back and sat down. “We don’t want anything to happen to you. That’s why we tried to distance ourselves when you started using the last time. We hoped that it would slap some sense into you.”

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture from you right now, Axton. I’m done with the drugs for good this time.”

“I don’t want to lecture you. I want to say…” I broke off and looked away from him. Why was this so hard? Why were the words so hard to get out? “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.” Liam let out a surprised gasp and a sardonic smile twisted my lips. “I’m sorry for not being there for you when you obviously needed someone. I’m sorry for not trying harder, for keeping my distance from you and the rest of the guys. I might not show it, but I do care about you and our band.” Maybe they weren’t like brothers to me, the way that the guys from Demon’s Wings were, but they were still like family. Maybe cousins.

Liam swallowed hard but didn’t say anything for a long moment. When he did speak his voice was almost hoarse with suppressed emotions. “I…” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for that, Ax.”

I stood. It was obvious that Liam was exhausted. He might have just woken up, but his body was still broken and that had to take a lot out of him. “I’m gonna head home for a few hours.”

“Wait!” Liam stopped me. “Can you… Will you sit and talk to me until I fall back to sleep?” His cheeks filled with embarrassment. “I could really use the company.”

My heart clenched. “Sure, buddy.” Sitting once more, I scooted the chair closer to his bed. I sat there talking to him about random things, sometimes making him laugh. When his eyes drifted shut and I heard a snore escape him, I still sat there. By the time I got up to leave, the sun had been up for a few hours. My mind and body were drunk with exhaustion, but my heart felt a little lighter for the first time in a long, long while.

Dallas

I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. My phone was in my hand, a number I had never wanted to know, across the screen. The only problem was that I couldn’t bring myself to hit send.

Sure, I felt bad for Gabriella. She had just spent seven days and nights in a hospital with people who mostly hated her guts, just so she could be close to the guy she claimed to love. The man she said she was going to marry. Then as soon as that same guy woke up from a coma, he screamed and ranted and told her that he never wanted to see her again. I’d had to stand there and watch Gabriella Moreitti fall to pieces while she took Liam’s verbal abuse. I had almost wanted to go after her to make sure she was alright as she had left the hospital in tears.

Almost.

I knew that Liam hadn’t meant much of what he had spewed at her. It was just reaction to too much shit being tossed at him after waking up with seven days of his life gone forever. He was hurting, scared, feeling alone in the world. And he wanted to make someone, if not everyone else around him right now, feel the same way. Because he loved her so much, Gabriella got the biggest load of his emotional melt down. But it was all normal.

That didn’t mean it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I finally hit send and waited while it rang five times before someone answered. “What?” came the snarl.

“Gabriella? It’s Dallas.”

There was a long pause on the other end, as if she were shocked speechless at hearing my name. When she finally answered she seemed almost scared. “Is Liam okay?”

“He’s fine for the moment,” I assured her. “Actually, he asked me to check on you. He was worried.”

That got a humorless laugh out of the little Italian. “For some reason I don’t believe you.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. He’s just got a lot on his plate right now, Gabriella. When things calm down, he is going to regret the way he reacted. You’ll have to be the bigger person and forgive him.”

There was another long pause and I thought for a moment she had hung up on me. I was about to turn my phone off when I heard her sigh. “Thanks, Dallas. I know you don’t like me, and I can even understand why. But you have been a great friend to Liam and you were nicer to me this week than I expected. So, thank you.”

Now I was the one shocked speechless. I didn’t know how to respond to that. It wasn’t every day that a chick you considered public enemy number one said thank you to you.

“And as for being okay, I’m not. But I will be. One day.”

Before I could find my voice the line went dead and I sat there on the couch in my apartment just frowning down at my phone. That was the oddest conversation I had ever had. Because it had left me with a small piece of respect for the other girl. She was a strong person and I respected that in anyone.

Respecting her didn’t mean I liked her, though.

“Here.”

My head snapped up as Linc shoved a plate in my face. I tucked a few strands of wet hair from my shower behind my ears and took the plate. It was loaded down with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toast perfectly buttered, and a big heap of shredded hash browns with tons of salt and pepper. All of it was drizzled in ketchup. Linc was definitely my hero.

The first bite forced a moan from me and I was suddenly cramming my face full of the delicious breakfast. Having been forced to eat takeout for the last seven days had been torture, when I could have been home with Linc’s home cooking. The man was not only god-like in appearance but in the kitchen as well.

While I was still shoveling down my breakfast, he dropped a kiss on my wet head and left for work. After I was done I found the energy to walk into the kitchen and rinse my plate. I drank two tall glasses of orange juice then stumbled down the hall to my room. I didn’t even remember pulling the covers up over me before I was falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

It was snowing again by the time I got back to the hospital that evening. I felt better after having a full nine hours of sleep, another hot shower, and actually eating a meal on real plates at my kitchen table. So I was in a decent mood when I passed the security team at the front doors, ignoring the paparazzi as they snapped picture after picture and screamed out questions. Those damn paps remembered me from when I had dated Axton, and of course as Harper Stevenson’s—the rock world’s most hated female—best friend. So they thought they knew me, and that they could talk to me, as I entered the hospital.