Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,67

self-harm or depression, but in hindsight, her anxiety has been pretty high.

God, did I go too far? Had forcing her to show her hand to Xavier pushed her over some ledge I didn’t know about?

Tears blur my vision by the time I reach the hospital’s main entrance. I’m shaking as I hurry to the elevators. I push the Up button, then glance at the directory and find that the fourth floor is the surgery suite.

“No, no, no.” I press my fingers to my trembling lips. I get on the elevator, push Four, then close my eyes and whisper, “All beings of the highest truth and compassion, please, please, please let Piper and Xavier be okay.”

I walk off the elevator into a small, vacant lobby. To my right is an empty hallway, and to my left there is a wall with a plaque directing visitors to surgery.

Surgery.

I can’t believe this is happening, but all my denial falls away when I turn the corner. Xavier is crouched against the wall, elbows on knees, hands clasped and pressed against his mouth, eyes closed. His uniform shirt is untucked and his body armor lies on a neighboring chair, which is when I notice another cop in the room: Sergeant Lucero.

“Z,” Lucero says, dragging Xavier’s eyes open before he pushes to his feet.

I don’t know what I expected, but I’ve never seen the dark expression or the cold look in his eyes.

Lucero stands and nods to me. “Chloe.” Then to Xavier, he says, “I’m going to refill my coffee.”

Xavier doesn’t speak until Lucero is in the elevator and we’re alone. And even then, I have to prod him. “What’s going on? Is Piper in surgery?”

“Yes.” His walls are twenty feet high. I’ve never seen them before, and I’m beginning to understand why everyone who should be afraid of him usually is.

Instead of being relieved, I’m growing even more frantic. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

He paces away from me, hands on hips, then turns to face me and exhales heavily, as if it’s all just too much. “Piper was in some type of challenge with Smith, Dale, and Willow.”

He’s talking like a cop, clean, measured, official, definitely not the man I’ve spent too few nights in bed with. And not my friend either.

“What kind of challenge?” I ask.

“You don’t already know?”

My stomach chills. “No, why would I know? And why are you using an accusatory tone?”

“Maybe because the last words she said to me were ‘It’s not Chloe’s fault.’”

I gasp, and my hand flattens on my heart. “She’s… Last words…?” I look around for some indication that she’s not dead but in surgery. I return my gaze to Xavier. “Stop talking to me like a cop and just tell me”—I put one hand out and ticked off my demands—“what is Piper’s status right now, what is her prognosis, when will surgery be over, and what the fuck happened?”

I yell the last, tears on my cheeks, my body trembling.

He tells me about the break-in at the dispensary and why she’d done it. Tells me about her injury and how serious it is. Tells me again about Piper’s last words before going into the ambulance. “You knew Piper was hanging with those kids. You knew she was cutting school and smoking with them. You know how hard I was trying to keep her on the right path, yet you deliberately kept all that from me.”

“Just because I caught them cutting school and smoking,” I say, “doesn’t mean I knew anything other than they were cutting school and smoking. I didn’t know anything about any game. I told her that she’s not like the other kids, that she has people who love her, especially you. I reminded her of just what you gave up to be here with her and that she should act like she appreciates your sacrifice.”

He crosses his arms and lifts his chin in a way that’s both knowing and accusatory. I’m getting a firsthand look at the reason so many people are intimidated by him. “You didn’t know about them passing drugs.”

I pull in a breath to say no, but realize I can’t. “I only found out about that today. I told her she had to tell you as soon as you were off work, or I would.”

His arms drop, his hands dig into his hips. “Why didn’t you tell me right then and there? Why didn’t you pick up your phone and call me right that second?”

“Because you were working.” We’re