Burnout - Coralee June Page 0,119

you for that,” Lance choked out. I felt his hand clasp around mine as he sobbed.

“I’m so sorry, Lance. I never—”

“Just go. Please, just go.”

The moment I had control of my body again, I spoke the three words that had been tormenting me. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I wasn’t sure where I was. Phrases like nasogastric tubes, endoscopies, and kidney functions flurried around the hospital room as I rested, but I didn’t know how bad it was. I only knew how I felt. I only knew that my body seemed heavy and weak.

“Where is Blakely?” I asked. My throat was on fire.

“Decker, you need to take it easy, okay?” Lance replied. My vision was blurred, but I could see the outline of his blond hair and the thick reading glasses he wore when he was too lazy to put on his contacts.

“Where is Blakely?” I asked again, making Lance curse. I blinked once, twice, and by the third blink, I could clearly see my best friend. Lance looked awful. His hair was greasy like he hadn’t showered in days. The wrinkled shirt he was wearing was stained, and I could clearly see his chapped lips and the dark circles under his eyes.

“She’s gone,” Lance replied darkly. “Let me call the nurse.”

“Don’t. Don’t call anyone. Where is Blakely, Lance?” My best friend squeezed my hand and bent over my body, saturating my hospital gown with his sobs. I patted his head, realizing that my one-track mind was probably insulting. He’d obviously been worried about me, and I was a dick. “Hey, I’m okay,” I offered lamely, though my voice sounded strained.

“I was so fucking worried about you,” Lance replied while clutching me tighter, it was like he couldn’t believe I was still there with him. “It’s always been us. Why didn’t you wait for me? Why did you do such a stupid thing?”

“We didn’t have a choice, Lance. Where the fuck is Blakely?”

“I don’t know!” Lance roared in response. “I sent her away. She could have gotten you killed, Decker. You warned me that she was trouble, and you were right. I should have never brought her into our lives. I should have noticed.”

Lance stood up and furiously wiped at his eyes while pacing the room. He was reverberating with pain and anger, but I didn’t know what to do. Blakely didn’t deserve all the blame though.

Lance sobbed even harder as he stared at me, his blue eyes red and drenched with pain. We had a silent stare off for a moment, and I watched with dread. Fuck. This was it, the moment I’d feared. The secret we’d been ignoring would finally be out in the open.

“I love her, Lance,” I whispered.

Lance shook his head. “Please stop talking. You’re in a fucking hospital bed with a gunshot wound. Your mother is downstairs drinking vodka from a coffee cup.”

“I love her, Lance,” I said again, this time more confidently. Lance ran a hand through his hair in agitation. He was still avoiding the truth.

“You’ve had three surgeries over the last week,” he added, his resolve crumbling.

“I love your sister, Lance. I love Blakely.” My words were like a whip against his expression, turning his sadness into anger.

Lance paused in his pacing to turn and look at me. I felt every fear. I felt his determination. I felt the secret between us burst wide open in a split decision.

Lance stalked over to me and grabbed my cheeks. At first, I thought he was going to admit the fear I’d been harboring, but instead, his rough lips connected with mine. Shock hit my senses, making it impossible to move. A part of me knew this needed to happen. I knew we’d never work through our issues unless I gave him this moment. He didn’t seem to care about my morning breath or my lack of enthusiasm against his sweeping tongue. He kissed me like it was a long exhale he’d been holding in his chest.

But it felt wrong, so wrong. He was my brother. My soulmate—but not my lover.

His teeth sunk into my bottom lip, tugging at mine in desperation. He licked at the seam of my mouth, his tears saturating my skin. I shoved at his chest, pushing him away. I couldn’t do this to him. I couldn’t lead him on. This was never going to happen. “I fell in love with Bl—”

“Don’t you fucking say it. Don’t finish that sentence,” Lance begged.

“I love her, Lance,” I whispered, though