Chapter 25
ALEX
Elijah slips out of me, tossing a towel over my jizz.
“That was… that was… was—”
“Amazing,” he finishes, and I grin lazily up at him. I am so in love with this guy. Everything in me glows—soft, stupid, hopeless. Like my whole body is humming his name.
His fingers drag lazily across the tattoos on my back, slow and absentmindedly. “I want this forever, Alex.” He breathes against my neck. “Can you give me forever?”
It takes too much effort to form actual words, so I hum instead, a rush of love and joy surging up through me so fast it steals whatever answer I was going to give.
“Yeah?” he asks, smiling into my skin.
“I love you,” I mumble into my pillow.
Buzz.
I peel one eye open at the sound of his phone and glance at the clock—2:55 a.m.
Buzz, buzz.
Elijah’s phone rattles again on the bedside table, vibrating like a jackhammer. Groaning, he rolls over and grabs it.
“I don’t recognize the caller,” he mutters, already half asleep, and tosses it back down like it offended him. “Probably a wrong number.”
I scoot in closer, throwing a leg over his thigh, craving warmth.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
“Damn it!” he huffs out, sitting up and flicking on the bedside lamp.
“Hello!” he barks, irritation sharp in his voice.
I only catch his side of the conversation—but it’s clear this isn’t a random call. His voice shifts. Firmer. Alert.
“Yes,” he says, clearing the gravel from his throat. “Okay. Mm-hmm. I see.”
I shove my fist into the mattress. Who the hell is he talking to?
Elijah tosses the bedsheet aside and swings his legs over the edge of the bed.
“Of course we can be there,” he says, voice steady but tense, hand gripping his forehead. “May I speak to him, please? Oh. I see.”
Then, without warning, he switches to Spanish—rapid fire and clipped.
I can’t catch every word, but I know that tone.
Something’s wrong.
I sit up, heart thudding, my back hitting the headboard as I wait for the call to end.
He drags a hand down the back of his neck, fingers raking harshly through his short hair—once, twice—then he tosses the phone across the bed as if it burns.
“Everything okay?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He exhales hard. “Not really. That was a doctor from New York Presbyterian Hospital. Gabriel’s there. With Noah.”
My eyes go wide. The sheets forgotten. I knee walk across the bed and drop beside him on the edge.
“What happened?” I breathe, bracing myself for the worst.
His hand settles on my thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.
“From what I gather, Gabriel called emergency services for Noah. The doctor couldn’t give me many details…
just that Noah was unconscious when he arrived at the hospital.
” He pauses, swallowing thickly. “Gabriel asked the staff to call me. They need us there. Immediately.”
I blink rapidly, trying to keep up.
“Okay, but… why? I mean, Gabriel’s with him, right?”
“Yes. He is.” Elijah rubs his palms down his flushed cheeks, clearly rattled. “Apparently, Noah is… agitated. Yelling. Calling out.”
I rub my knuckles into my tired eyes, still half in disbelief. “Calling out? For who?”
He exhales—long, worn, like the breath is being dragged out of him. Then he looks up.
“You.”