at that. “Julian exaggerates, but had he not found me, I would have most likely been an icicle, frozen facedown in the snow.”
Izzy put her hand over her mouth. “What were you doing outside?”
“Oh, you know, trying to appease the master of the cabin and build another fire . . .” I glared playfully at Julian, who just smiled and looked down.
Bridge narrowed his eyes at me then at Julian as a small smile spread across his mouth. “Uh-huh, alright. That’s the story you guys are going to go with?”
“Yup,” we said in unison, earning a chuckle from Bridge and Izzy.
The days spent with Julian had been slow, enjoyable, like sitting by a campfire and living in the moment.
And then suddenly, I had my laptop and one of my duffel bags, and I was in a helicopter sitting next to him, wondering how it all happened so fast, the rescue, the fact that I could already see the city lights.
We landed at one of the private airports near Brooklyn, where an ambulance was already waiting.
I frowned and pointed. “That’s not necessary.”
Bridge snorted. “Tell that to my brother.”
“I’m fine,” I said, only to get ignored by Julian, who helped me out of the helicopter and into the waiting ambulance, where an EMT began to unwrap my hands. “Seriously, I’ll be okay.”
“Hold still, ma’am, have you had any tingling sensations? A fever?” He started firing off questions while Julian stood there.
I don’t remember answering.
All I could focus on was Julian’s face, his expression expectant.
Like he was waiting for something.
Another moment, maybe.
My mouth felt dry. I wanted to ask him to stay, I wanted to tell him that it was too soon, but I didn’t know how. He was Julian Tennyson. Did he even care?
The wind picked up, and still he stood there, hands in the pocket of the jeans I’d helped take off, expression hopeful.
“Let’s go.” The EMT hit the roof of the ambulance and closed one door.
And still I said nothing.
I still had time.
I opened my mouth and all that came out was “Thank you.”
And I knew, though I had somehow survived Noah’s death, I would never get over the expression of rejection on Julian’s face as the second door closed.
Never.
Chapter Twenty-Two
JULIAN
Waking up from a coma only to find out that everything has been taken from you . . . sucks.
It’s painful, both physically and emotionally.
But watching that ambulance drive off rivaled that feeling and then trumped it when I finally walked into my brand-new penthouse apartment that overlooked the city.
Alone.
No chocolate chip cookies.
No roaring fireplace in the corner.
No laptop keys to hit.
Just nothingness.
I didn’t even get her phone number.
I should have asked.
I was going to, but then she just gave me this look of . . . no. I couldn’t explain it, but I wanted her to be ready, I wanted her to be excited, to say something, anything.
I wasn’t stupid, I knew that I never fought for Izzy, but I never thought in my wildest dreams that the next girl I fell for would refuse to fight for me.
It didn’t just sting my pride.
It hurt my heart in a way I wasn’t prepared for, stole the air from my lungs, making it impossible to breathe normally.
I grabbed a bottle of Maker’s Mark and sat in my living room.
In the dark.
And poured.
And when the doorbell rang, I nearly knocked over my drink in anticipation of seeing her, only to realize halfway to the door that she didn’t know where I lived, and if she didn’t want me with her in the ambulance, she sure as hell wasn’t going to seek me out and show up on my doorstep.
Fuck, I could still smell her on my skin.
Taste her on my lips.
I pulled the door open to find Bridge giving me a knowing look before lifting a bottle of expensive whiskey and saying, “So, Keaton Westbrook?”
I almost slammed the door in his face.
Except I had no one else.
Literally.
And I was that low.
So I hung my head, let him in, grabbed the whiskey, popped the cork, took a giant swig, and muttered, “I like her.”
Bridge was quiet, and then he burst out laughing. “Well, did she write you a note back, or are you still waiting for her to circle yes or no?”
“Jackass.” I shoved him. “I didn’t come right out and say it. She was dealing with things, and you know how I’ve been. I just . . . it doesn’t matter. I’m still technically on vacation, maybe I’ll go to Colorado