4. Vincent
4
VINCENT
I pace the hospital lobby, the dim overhead lights casting my shadow against the wall, stretching and shrinking with each step. My fingers twitch at my sides, an itch I can’t scratch, a weight pressing down on my ribs. Six weeks.
Six weeks since I last saw Willow.
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair as I think about the phone call I just had with Cast. Damien came in with a concussion. It should bother me more, but I didn’t care that the man I once called my brother faded in and out of consciousness because the girl I loved refused to see me.
I grind my teeth, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. The coffee shop to the left of the reception desk is open, its scent of burnt espresso drifting through the air, but I don’t turn towards it until I spot Willow’s nurse.
I spot Lindsey before she even makes it to the coffee shop, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she strides toward the counter. I don’t hesitate. I slip in ahead of her, flashing my best easygoing smile at the barista, even though my insides feel like they’ve been carved out.
“Cinnamon oat milk latte, extra hot, half sweet, one pump of vanilla, two pumps of cinnamon dolce, light foam, sprinkle of cinnamon on top,” I recite smoothly, not missing the way Lindsey stops short beside me, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
The barista blinks. “You, uh… want that in a large?”
I slide my card over the counter. “Obviously.”
Lindsey folds her arms, lips pursing. “So what, you’ve been paying attention to my coffee orders now?”
I turn toward her, slipping my hands into my pockets, still playing it casual even though I’m anything but. “I pay attention to the people standing between me and the love of my life.” I let the words settle, watching her reaction. “And you, Lindsey, have been the very enthusiastic gatekeeper of my misery.”
She exhales, glancing away as the barista hands me the drink. I take it, then extend it to her, meeting her gaze head-on. “Call it a bribe. A thank-you. A peace offering. Whatever gets me through that damn door.”
She doesn’t take it right away. For a second, I think she’s going to tell me to go to hell. But then she sighs and grabs the cup, eyeing me over the lid. “This isn’t going to work.”
I tilt my head. “The coffee or my devastating charm?”
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a smile. “Both.” She takes a sip and actually groans in satisfaction before leveling me with a look. “I can’t let you in, Vincent.”
I knew she was going to say that, but it still sends a sharp bolt of frustration through me. I exhale slowly, dragging a hand through my hair before I let my eyes drop to hers again, softer this time. “Then tell me. Anything.”
Lindsey hesitates, tapping her fingers against the coffee cup.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “She’s getting worse, isn’t she?”
A flicker flashes in her eyes, one she quickly masks. “She’s stable.”
It’s not an answer.
I clench my jaw, but before I can press her, she sighs and glances toward the elevators. “She—” She stops, biting her lip like she’s debating whether or not she should continue. Then, finally, she mutters, “She’s looking into an experimental trial.”
My breath catches. “A trial?”
Lindsey nods, voice quieter now. “A partial mechanical heart. It could buy her time. Maybe more than that.”
Something tight and painful coils in my chest. Hope. Fear. A volatile mix of both. “And she’s considering it?”
Lindsey studies me for a beat before answering. “She’s scared.” She shifts her weight, exhaling. “And she’s stubborn. She thinks she’s protecting you by keeping you away, but…” She shakes her head. “You know how she is.”
I do.
And now, I know exactly what I need to do.
I take a step back, giving her a small nod. “Thanks, Lindsey.”
She huffs. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go burning down the hospital in a grand romantic gesture, okay?”
I smirk, but there’s no real humor behind it. “No promises. ”
I barely have time to process what Lindsey just told me before I hear heavy, angry footsteps storming toward me.
“Vincent!”
I turn just as Cast grabs me by the collar and slams me into the nearest wall. The impact rattles through me.
“What the fuck did you do to him?” he snarls, his grip like iron.
I shove his hands off me, stepping forward so we’re chest to chest, fury crackling between us. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
His bloodshot green eyes narrow. “Don’t play fucking dumb,” he spits. “I get a call from you saying Damien’s in the hospital, and now you’re just standing here like nothing happened? Like you didn’t put him here?”
I scoff, barely holding back a bitter laugh. “You’re fucking out of your mind Cast.”
His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t back down. “Swear you didn’t touch him,” he grits out, breath laced with alcohol and rage.
I meet his stare, unflinching. “I don’t have to swear on shit. If I wanted to hurt Damien, I’d fucking own it.”
For a second, neither of us move. The air between us is thick, pulsing with barely restrained violence.
Then Lindsey clears her throat, her voice edged with irritation. “You two really need to take your little testosterone battle outside before security gets called.”
Cast doesn’t take his eyes off me, but he finally steps back, exhaling sharply. His breath is thick with whiskey, laced with rage that he doesn’t know where to put yet. “If I find out you’re lying, Vincent?—”
“You won’t.” I cut him off, my voice cold, final. “Because I’m not.”
He doesn’t believe me. Not fully. But he doesn’t push it—yet.
Instead, he mutters a curse, rolling his shoulders back like he’s shaking off a fight that hasn’t happened—one he still wants to have. Then, with a sharp turn, he storms toward the front desk, every step radiating fury.
“That man,” he points a finger back at me without looking, “is banned from seeing Damien Sterling.”
The dark-haired receptionist behind the desk blinks, looking from him to me, clearly thrown. “Sir, he’s listed as Damien Sterling’s emergency contact, and you have no authorization to?—”
Cast leans in, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “You let him upstairs and into Damien’s room, and I will force-feed you your own balls, understand me? ”
The poor bastard swallows hard. “Understood.”
I let out a scoff from where I stand, folding my arms across my chest. “Intimidating the hospital staff? Real nice, Castillo. ”
Cast whirls on me so fast that the receptionist flinches, like he thinks he might be next. His nostrils flare, his eyes dark and vicious, like moss-colored fire burning through him. The whiskey rolling off him is thick enough to taste, his hands twitching like he’s two seconds from wrapping them around my throat.
“Every single day you’re alive is because of Willow, ” he snarls. “ But the second she gets rid of your ass, I’m going to skin you alive.”
I smirk, tilting my head, voice mocking. “ Ooooh. So scary, Juan. ”
The second the name leaves my mouth, I know I’ve struck a nerve.
His entire body goes rigid.
Cast doesn’t let anyone call him that. No one but Willow. No one but Rosemary—the only two women he’s ever truly loved .
His nostrils flare, his fists clenching so tightly I hear his knuckles crack. “What the fuck did you just call me?”
I hold his stare, my smirk widening. “You heard me.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to swing. Want him to. I see it in the way his muscles coil, his chest rising and falling in short, sharp breaths.
He takes a step back, running his tongue over his teeth, shaking his head with a bitter smirk. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re fucking dead when she’s done with you.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He just turns and storms toward the elevators, shoving past anyone in his way.
I roll my shoulders, exhaling sharply.
I glance at the receptionist, who still looks like he might piss himself, and give him a slow, easy smile. “You gonna listen to him?”
The man hesitates, clearly terrified of the answer.
“Yeah, regardless of what you do he may still kill you so…” I shrug, moving around the desk towards the elevators.
I roll my neck, exhaling slowly as I weigh my options. Sneak into Willow’s room? I know where she is, know which hallway to take, which doors to slip through. If I time it right, I could get past the nurses—talk to her for even five minutes.
But if I get caught?
I could get banned from the hospital entirely. And then what? I’d be stuck outside, waiting for secondhand updates like some irrelevant bystander while the love of my life lies in a bed upstairs, fighting for hers.
My jaw clenches.
I can’t risk that.
Not yet.
I rake a hand through my hair, biting back the frustration clawing at my ribs. If I can’t see Willow, then I might as well deal with the other problem standing between us— Cast.
With a slow breath, I turn and start down the hall toward Damien’s room.
The hallway is quieter here, the steady hum of machines and the occasional beeping of monitors filling the space. The door is cracked open, the light from inside spilling onto the polished floor. Then I see her and my world lurches to a stop. The air in my lungs vanishes. The floor tilts beneath me.
Willow. My Willow is sitting there holding Damien’s hand.
She’s sitting there, but she isn’t—at least not the Willow I remember. Not the woman who once met my fury with fire, who fought me with every ounce of her defiance. This version of her is... wrong. A shadow. A ghost.
Her skin is paper-thin, stretched over sharp bones, and her cheeks are hollow, drained of color. The vibrant spark that used to dance in her eyes—the one that once taunted me, challenged me—is gone.
I feel it like a punch to the gut. For a second, I swear my heart forgets to beat.
She looks sick. Weak. Like life has been siphoned from her, leaving only this fragile shell behind.
I can’t move. I can’t speak. I have to force myself to remember that I came to check on Damien.
Beside her, he lies motionless, his body twisted in a way that suggests he’s been through hell. His chest rises and falls, but each breath seems shallow, strained, like the very act of breathing is something he has to fight for. I can’t tell if he’s alive or just barely clinging to existence. It doesn’t matter—he isn’t moving.
I try to speak, try to break through the fog that seems to settle over my mind, but no words come. My throat feels tight, suffocating. How has this happened? Where have things gone wrong? I can’t process it all fast enough. My eyes flick over to Cast who was here before me, expecting him to be the one to take charge, to move, to fix things. But he stands there, just as frozen as I am. His eyes are locked on Willow, his body rigid, his lips parted like he’s about to speak but can’t form a single word.
“Carina,” he finally chokes out, his voice hoarse, but that’s all he can manage.
And then she speaks. “Hi. ”
It’s the softest of words, so faint that I’m not sure I’ve heard it correctly at first. She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and in that moment, it’s like everything in the room shifts. The dullness in her eyes clears just for an instant, and her lips curve upward into the faintest of smiles. A smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, but one that’s enough to make my chest tighten.
I want to pull her away, to demand she come with me, that we find a way out of this. But I can’t move. Neither of us can.
“What did you do to her, Vincent?” Cast whispers, as if speaking too loud will break her.
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, my eyes trained on the way her breaths come out in shaky exhales.
“Cast,” she sighs, crossing her legs as she turns her gaze on us.
“Carina, don’t say my name like that, not after all this time.”
Willow swallows sharply. Her gaze flicks back down to Damien, and for a moment, she looks at him with such tenderness that it nearly breaks me.
“Willow,” Cast’s voice cracks as he steps closer, his expression torn between concern and frustration. His fists clench at his sides as he hovers next to her, like he’s afraid to touch her, afraid of breaking her even more. “What happened to you? This isn’t you. You’re not...”
She swallows hard, the sound barely audible, and then speaks, her voice low and strained. “Cast, please. We don’t have time for this right now. Damien is the top priority. He needs help. We need to focus on him.”
“Bullshit.” The word leaves his mouth like a snap, and I can hear the venom in his tone, the raw anger that’s been building up inside him since the moment he walked in. “You’re telling me that Damien’s more important than you? That after everything, you’re just going to push yourself aside, like this is just some... side note? Don’t lie to me, Willow. Don’t fuck with me right now.”
Her chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, the effort of holding her composure taking every last ounce of strength she has left. “I’m fine,” she says softly, but the words don’t match her face, the trembling of her voice. “Damien needs me. He’s the one who’s?—”
“Stop!” Cast’s outburst cuts through her words. “You’re telling me you’re fine? You’re fine? Willow, you can’t even look at me.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I can feel the shift in the air—the way everything’s just changed. I can see the way Cast’s face crumples. His anger growing into a bitter beast inside of him. His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, and then, with a sharp motion, he steps back, his hands falling to his sides.
Before anyone can stop him, Cast turns to me, his face twisted with disappointment and fury. “And you,” he spits, pointing a finger in my direction, “I thought you were still the man you used to be. But I can’t trust you with anything. You let the girl we love turn to that, and you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your fucking life.”
I open my mouth to say something, but he’s already turning, storming out of the room before I can get a word in. The door slams behind him with a force that makes the walls tremble, and I stand there, frozen, the weight of his words still hanging in the air like a thick fog.