Prologue #2
“Lise, look at me,” he ordered. I did. His pupils were uneven, and his words were a little slurred, but he was still Riley. “I’m okay,” he said. “Everything is okay. I’m not going to die on you.”
“Promise?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Promise.” His eyes slid shut, and he murmured, “Just need to close my eyes.”
I pressed the button to call for the nurse. By the time someone showed up, and I let her know Riley had woken, he was fast asleep again. The nurse was unconcerned, both that he’d woken and that he was back to sleep.
I tried to reassure myself that this was another sign everything was okay. She adjusted something in the IV attached to his arm, murmured to herself, and left the room. I settled back into my chair by his side to wait.
Alarm bells woke me from a light doze. Running footsteps, flashing lights, and I was pulled from his bedside, his hand torn from mine. I knew better than to interrupt. People in scrubs leaned over him, their voices urgent, the words coming fast and unintelligible.
I didn’t know what was happening; I only knew that it was bad.
I did what I always did when things were bad. What all of us did when things were bad.
I called Aiden.
He was there twenty minutes later, bullying the nurses with his implacable authority, insisting I be allowed to stay by Riley’s side, demanding to know what was happening.
He shoved a paper cup of tea into my hand and made me sit in a chair in the waiting room on Riley’s floor.
“As soon as he’s stabilized, they’ll let you back in, though they’re not happy about it,” he said.
“What happened? He was fine. He was sleeping and then—”
“A mixup with the drugs,” Aiden said, shaking his head. “The nurse misread the dose on his morphine. They don’t know where she is, but they’ll question her as soon as they find her. What’s important is that they caught it in time and he’s going to be fine.”
“They messed up his medicine? How does that happen? I thought he would be safe in the hospital—”
When I heard the alarms, saw the flashing lights and the rushing nurses, I’d assumed it was something to do with his concussion. It never occurred to me that they might accidentally kill him.
I wanted to bundle Riley up and take him home to Winters House. Except Winters House had never been particularly safe either. There was nowhere in my life that was safe. Nowhere death couldn’t follow.
“After all this, are you going to bring him home for dinner?” Aiden asked, nudging my shoulder with his. My cheeks flushed. I hadn’t dated a lot in high school. Between my family’s notoriety, my aunt and uncle’s deaths my junior year, and other stuff, I just wasn’t that interested.
Riley was the first boy—man—to catch my eye. What we had was so perfect I hadn’t been willing to bring it into the mess that was the rest of my life. But maybe it was time.
“Is it all right if he comes home to Winters House when they let him out? He has an apartment off campus but—”
Aiden wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into a hug. “Of course it’s okay. Now that I know what’s really going on with you two, I’d rather have him where I can keep an eye on him.”
I made a disgruntled sound low in my throat and rested my cheek against his chest. Aiden was overprotective.
If I thought he was bad with me, I just had to see him with my little cousin Charlie.
She was twelve, still shaken from losing her parents, and Aiden hovered over her as much as his responsibilities would allow.
He was only twenty-two, barely two years older than me, but he was the one who held us together. He’d left college after his parents died, finishing school in Atlanta and taking his father’s place at the company and at home.
He read to Charlie at night and made sure Vance and I got our college applications in on time. He’d been the one to insist I live in student housing when I suggested I should stay home and help him with the kids. He’d given up everything so we could have normal lives.
I’d tried to argue, but no one argued with Aiden. He just stared you down and steam-rolled over you.
I hadn’t fought him that hard. Both Vance and I felt guilty about running off and leaving Aiden with the kids, but as much as we’d wanted to help, we’d wanted to get away even more.
And it wasn’t like we’d gone far. All the Winters went to Emory, right in Atlanta, so we were close if he needed us.
Only Aiden had gone out of state to school, but he’d ended up leaving Harvard and finishing at our fathers’ alma mater in the end.
We’d gratefully acceded to his demand that we be normal college students. Or as normal as we could be. But now, seeing Riley in a hospital bed, all I wanted was home.
It felt like hours before they let me back into Riley’s room. I imagined he looked paler, more worn. Aiden left to make whatever arrangements he was going to make, after reassuring me that Riley would be released in a day or two.
I took my place beside Riley’s bed, twining my fingers with his, rubbing absently against his callused thumb, and waited patiently for him to wake.
I opened my eyes the next morning to see a nurse enter the room, her face blocked by a huge arrangement of mismatched flowers. My stomach tightened at the sight of the flowers, and I asked, “Where did those come from?”
“They were left at the desk,” she said, setting them on the table across the room. “Odd arrangement. I don’t like it much, but I’m sure whoever sent it meant well.”
I was sure they didn’t.
I waited until the nurse left the room after reassuring me that Riley would wake soon. I had a sick feeling that it no longer mattered. Not for me. Trapped in a nightmare I thought I’d escaped, I pulled my fingers from Riley’s and stood.
The few steps across the room seemed to take forever.
The nurse had called the arrangement odd. It was a generous description. The flowers clashed, discordant and ugly together, but the sender hadn’t been going for pretty. The flowers were a message, one he knew I could decode.
My mother had loved flowers, had taught me their language, but experience had forced me to understand what they really meant. The clash of yellow and pink blooms told me exactly what had happened to Riley.
Yellow Hyacinth for jealousy.
Rhododendron for danger.
And most terrifying, the deep pink blooms of Begonia—a warning of future misfortune.
The car crash was no accident. Neither was the overdose that had almost killed Riley.
The flowers were a threat and a warning.
Numb, I picked up the arrangement and carried it from the room. I didn’t look at the card until I was in my car. It had been a year since I’d seen those precise block letters. A year since he’d sent me flowers.
I’d convinced myself it was over. Convinced myself he’d moved on, or forgotten about me, or died. I’d been so sure I was free.
Safe.
I never would have let myself fall in love with Riley if I thought he was still out there.
Still watching.
I turned the card over in my fingers, knowing I had to read it. Knowing that once I did, my path was set. I’d have to write a note of my own to Riley, one that would make him hate me.
Hate would keep him far from me.
Hate would keep him safe.
A hot tear slid down my cheek as I tugged at the seal of the small white envelope. I’d been arrogant. I wanted Riley so badly I’d convinced myself I could have him. That arrogance had almost gotten Riley killed.
I understood what the flowers were saying; Walk away from Riley, or the next time he’ll be dead.
I didn’t need to read the card.
I opened it anyway, my fingers shaking.
TELL HIM GOODBYE, OR I’LL DO IT FOR YOU