released from the hospital after just a few hours—he had a few scrapes and bruises, but no concussion, no broken bones. Heath had a gnarly gash on his hand and a minor concussion, so he was staying overnight with Coop and Rebel keeping watch.
The doctors had said the fainting was just a stress reaction, but it’d terrified me when it happened. One moment he’d been blinking at me, dazed and smiling, and then the next he’d slumped forward against me, dead weight in my arms.
On the frantic ride to the campus, I’d known deep in my bones that Jazz was in trouble. It was as if we had some soul-level connection—when he hurt, I hurt. Even if it had been on the fritz recently.
I’d known he needed me. And I was determined not to fuck it up.
When I’d gotten there, he’d been sprawled on the sidewalk. Heath was too, a few paces away. And there was blood. So much blood, staining the sidewalk like it’d been sloshed from a bucket.
Terror had ripped through me the way an earthquake cracks the landscape open. I’d been so sure I was too late, I’d jumped off my bike so fast it’d almost tipped over.
And then Jazz had raised himself up, propped on his elbows, conscious and breathing and fine.
He’d looked a little beat up, but no worse than a bar brawl, with a bruise on his cheek and his hairline damp with sweat, but his amber eyes as bright as ever.
I hadn’t planned on kissing him. I hadn’t even thought about it.
All rational thought had flown from my mind. Everything I’d been telling myself about who I was, who we were, disappeared under the flood of relief that he was okay. That we still had him, and me, together and safe.
It’d been instinctual, a natural reaction to the events, like the way you lean your body with the bike on a hard turn. It wasn’t a decision—it just happened. I’d pulled him close against me and kissed him.
And it hadn’t been surprising, or confusing, or strange that time. It’d felt right. Like something missing inside me had suddenly slotted into place. All I’d wanted in that moment was to be close to him, to let him know I was there for him, and that he wasn’t going to get hurt. That I wasn’t going to lose him.
What did this mean for our relationship, though? And how would the club react? I’d done it out in the open—which meant that suddenly our personal business was club business. Was Jazz going to be okay with that?
Just hours ago I’d rejected him. I’d told him it would never happen. But now, after coming so close to losing him… I wanted a second chance. Needed it.
The sound of Jazz’s bedroom door opening ripped me out of my thoughts. Logan stepped out and closed the door behind him. “He’s all right,” Logan said immediately.
The tension I hadn’t realized I was holding in my shoulders eased. I trusted the doctors, but honestly, I trusted Logan’s assessment more. “You’re sure?”
Logan patted my shoulder companionably. “Yeah. He just needs to take it easy for a few days. What about you? Are you okay?”
After the brawl, Logan had met us at the hospital. He hadn’t asked me about what had happened—I’d been too anxious to talk—but Gunnar had told him. And now, he was watching me with a concerned look in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just need to see him.”
“All right,” Logan said. “If you need to talk through anything, you know. Just let me know.”
Maybe at some point reality would come crashing down around me, but right now, the only person I wanted to talk to was Jazz. “Thanks, Logan.”
He seemed to recognize my harried expression, so he just nodded and slipped down the stairs.
I stood in front of the door, fingertips on the knob, and took a breath. Regardless of what I wanted—Jazz had every right to turn me away, after how I’d treated him. Besides, what if my feelings had changed? What if the kiss was a fluke, and once I saw him, I’d realize I’d made another mistake?
I opened the door.
Jazz was sitting up in his bed, propped on what was basically a throne of pillows. There was no IV, thank God, and the bruise on his cheek was darker in color, but not too big. More than anything he looked exhausted.
He watched me carefully, with an unreadable expression in his amber eyes. That was happening more