Chapter 28 The Things Unsaid
THE THINGS UNSAID
EMMA
The bass thrums through the studio floor as I work through the combination Marie taught us last week. My body is finally starting to remember the steps, muscle memory kicking in where my brain keeps wandering.
My phone sits on top of my bag against the wall. I used to leave it in my locker, but not anymore. Not since James showed up at my door.
It buzzes. I ignore it. Probably Zoe asking about weekend plans.
It buzzes again. And again.
Marie catches my eye, nods toward the bag. “Go ahead.”
I jog over, fish my phone out. Unknown number. I almost decline, but something makes me pause. The number looks familiar. I've seen it recently.
Logan's phone. The night Kai borrowed it to call me.
I answer. “Hello?”
“Emma.” Logan's voice is tight. Controlled in a way that makes my stomach drop. “There's been an accident. Kaiden's hurt.”
The studio disappears. The music fades to a distant hum. “What? How bad?”
“I don't know yet. They're still checking him over.” A pause. “He's at St. Catherine's Private Hospital. Can you get here?”
“I'm on my way.”
I hang up. Hands shaking so badly I almost drop the phone. Marie is beside me, concern creasing her face.
“Emma? What's wrong?”
“I have to go.” The words come out thin, barely there. “Someone I—there's been an accident.”
I grab my bag, not bothering to change. I'm still in my leggings and tank top, hair plastered to my neck with sweat. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except getting there.
The night air slaps me when I push through the doors. I flag down a cab, throw myself into the backseat before it fully stops.
“St. Catherine's Private Hospital. Please. Fast as you can.”
The driver nods and pulls into traffic. I press my hands flat against my thighs, trying to stop the trembling. It doesn't work.
Kai. Hurt. Accident.
The words circle in my head like vultures. I don't know how bad. Logan's voice was wrong. Too tight. Too careful. People sound like that when they're trying not to scare you. When the truth is worse than what they're saying.
I think of this morning. Kai dropping me at work, his hand lingering on my cheek. The way he looked at me like he wanted to say something but held back. The way I held back, too.
We've been dancing around each other for weeks. Almost something. Not quite anything. I've kept him at arm's length because I was scared. Because James broke something in me and I didn't trust myself to know the difference between a man who wanted to control me and a man who just wanted me.
And now Kai might be—
No. I can't think that.
The city blurs past the window. Every red light feels like a personal attack. I catch the driver glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“You okay, miss?”
I realize my cheeks are wet. I'm crying. When did I start crying?
“Someone I care about is hurt,” I manage.
He nods, something softening in his face. “I'll get you there.”
All that time. All those moments when we were close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin.
I know the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles at something I've said.
I know the small scar on his jaw that I've never asked about.
I know how his hair curls at the back of his neck when he's been running his hands through it, and I've never once let myself touch it.
And I always pulled back. Always found a reason to wait.
What if I never get the chance?
I've never even kissed him.
The thought lands like a punch. All those nights lying awake thinking about his mouth. And I've never felt it against mine. Never will, if—
No. I can't finish that thought.
What if the last thing I ever said to him was see you later like it was nothing? Like he was nothing?
The cab pulls up to the hospital. I shove money at the driver, not counting, not caring. Run toward the entrance, sneakers slapping against pavement.
The reception area is all soft lighting and sleek furniture. Calm. Serene. It feels like a lie.
“I'm here to see Kaiden Rhodes,” I tell the woman at the desk. My voice is shaking. “He was brought in earlier.”
She frowns at her screen. “I'm sorry, I don't have anyone by that name.”
“He's here. He has to be here. Logan Parker called me—“
“Emma.”
I spin around. Logan is walking toward me, Ethan a step behind.
Logan's face stops me cold. He looks wrecked. Eyes red-rimmed, jaw tight, like he's holding himself together by sheer will. Ethan isn't much better. Usual composure cracked, hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched.
They look like men waiting for bad news.
“How is he?” My voice comes out strangled. “Logan, how is he?”
Logan opens his mouth. Closes it. For a horrible second, I think he's going to say the worst.
“He's alive,” Ethan says quietly. “We're waiting for news, but he's alive.”
The relief hits so hard my knees buckle. Logan reaches out to steady me, hand gripping my elbow.
“Sorry,” Logan says, his voice rough. “I didn't mean to scare you. It's just—“ He runs a hand over his face. “Seeing him like that. The call came in, and I thought—“ He stops. Swallows.
“We all did,” Ethan finishes.
For a moment, the three of us just stand there in the sterile hallway, bound together by the same fear. These men have known Kai for years. Built a company with him. Call him brother.
And me. Whatever I am to him.
“What happened?” I ask.
Logan and Ethan exchange a look. “His bike went down,” Logan says. “We don't know the details yet.”
“Come on,” Ethan says. “There's a waiting room.”
The waiting room is small. Private. The kind of room they put you in when the news might be bad. I remember a room like this. Different hospital, different city. The night I lost my parents.
I sit in a chair that's too comfortable for a place like this. Logan paces by the window. Ethan sits across from me, still as stone, but I can see his leg bouncing.
Minutes stretch. None of us speak. There's nothing to say that won't make the waiting worse.
I think about all the things I should have told him. That I'm no longer angry about the GVM thing. I understand why he did it, even if it was wrong. That when he bought me those shoes, it wasn't the gift that mattered. It was the fact that he noticed. That he paid attention.
I think about the night he showed up at my door, bloody and bruised, and how I patched him up and wanted to kiss him so badly I could taste it. And didn't.
I think about all the almosts. All the not-yets. All the reasons I found to keep him at a safe distance.
What if safe means never?
“He talked about you, you know.”
I look up. Logan has stopped pacing. He's watching me with an expression I can't read.
“What?”
“Before the fire. Before any of this blew up.” Logan leans against the wall, arms crossed. “He went to a painting class for you.” A ghost of a smile. “Kai doesn't do things like that. Not for anyone. We noticed.”
Ethan nods. “He's different with you.”
I don't know what to say. My throat is too tight.
The door opens. A woman in a white coat steps in. All three of us are on our feet instantly.
“Family of…” she checks her chart. “Kaiden Rhodes?”
“Yes,” Logan says, at the same time Ethan says, “We're his partners.”
She glances at me. I open my mouth, but Logan cuts in. “She's his girlfriend.”
The word hangs in the air. I don't correct him.
“I'm Dr. Reyes,” she says. “Mr. Rhodes is stable. He has a fractured ankle, two bruised ribs, and a mild concussion. He was wearing a helmet, which likely saved his life.” She pauses. “He's very lucky.”
Lucky. The word feels too small for what I'm feeling.
“Can we see him?” I ask.
“He's been in and out of consciousness. The painkillers are making him drowsy.” She checks her chart. “But yes, you can see him. One at a time might be best.”
Logan looks at me. “You first.”
I shake my head. “You've known him longer. You should—“
“Emma.” Logan's voice is firm but kind. “Go.”
The room is dim. Monitors beep softly, a steady rhythm that sounds like a heartbeat. And there's Kai, pale against the white sheets, left ankle in a cast, scrapes and bruises marking his arms. A gash near his temple has been cleaned and stitched.
He looks smaller somehow. Fragile in a way I've never seen him.
I move to his bedside, hand hovering over his before I gently take it. His skin is warm. Real. Alive.
“You idiot,” I whisper, tears spilling down my cheeks.
His eyes flutter. Unfocused at first, then finding me.
“Emma.” His voice is rough, cracked. “You came.”
“Of course I came.” I squeeze his hand. “You scared me half to death.”
“Sorry.” His voice is barely there. “Didn't mean to.”
“You better not have.” I try to smile but it wobbles. “You scared all of us.”
He tries to shift, wincing. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't move. Bruised ribs.”
“Feels like it.” He looks at me, really looks, and something in his expression makes my heart stutter. “I kept thinking about you. Before I blacked out. I kept thinking I didn't—“ He stops, swallows.
“Didn't what?”
His hand tightens around mine. “I didn't tell you.”
The words from my own panicked thoughts echo back at me. All the things I didn't say. All the moments I wasted being careful.
“Tell me now,” I whisper.
But his eyes are already closing, the painkillers dragging him back under. His grip on my hand loosens but doesn't let go.
I watch his chest rise and fall. Steady. Alive. My fingers find the hair at the back of his neck, the curls I've thought about so many times. Softer than I imagined. I stroke gently, careful not to wake him.
“I'm here,” I whisper. “I'm not going anywhere.”
The door opens quietly behind me. Dr. Reyes steps in.
“Ms. Sinclair? A word?”
I give Kai's hand one last squeeze before following her into the hallway. Logan and Ethan are there too.
“He's doing well,” Dr. Reyes says. “We'll keep him under observation given the concussion. I'll have the care guidelines ready for when he's discharged.”
“A few more days?” Logan asks.
“We’ll see. We want to monitor for any complications.”
She leaves. Logan exhales slowly.
“He can stay at his penthouse once he's out,” Logan says. “It's set up for accessibility. Elevator, wide doorways.”
“We can take shifts,” Ethan adds. “Cover the nights.”
“I want to help.” The words are out before I can second-guess them. “I can stay with him. Take the nights, or whenever I'm not at work. If you can cover the hours I'm at the office...”
They both look at me.
“I know I'm not—“ I swallow. “I know we haven't defined what this is. But I want to be there. Let me do this.”
Logan pins me with a serious stare. Then something softens in his expression. “Okay,” he says quietly. “We'll work out a schedule. Between the three of us, he won't be alone.”
“Thank you.”
Before any of us can speak again, the door at the end of the corridor swings open.
The man is someone I've only seen once briefly. One of Kai's inner circle. But seeing him now, I understand things I didn't before.
Maddox moves like a weapon. There's no wasted motion, no hesitation.
Dark eyes scan the corridor, cataloging threats in a single sweep before landing on us.
He's lean, all sharp angles and coiled tension, the kind of stillness that predators have before they strike.
His face gives nothing away. Not concern, not fear. Just cold calculation.
I've seen men try to look dangerous. Maddox doesn't try. He simply is.
He stops in front of us. “Who's keeping him safe here?”
Logan frowns. “What do you mean? It's a private hospital.”
“You haven’t put it together yet? Someone tampered with his bike.” Maddox's words land like a grenade. “The brake line. Clean cut. This wasn't an accident.”
Ethan's face goes pale. Logan's jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists.
“You're sure?” Logan asks.
“I'm sure.” Maddox crosses his arms. “I can stay today, but we need private contractors. People we trust. I don't like the ones we have on retainer right now.”
My mind races to the only threat I know. “James,” I whisper. “Could he have—“
Maddox shakes his head. “I've been tracking him since the night he showed up at your apartment. He hasn't been anywhere near Rhodes.” His eyes meet mine. “This wasn't him.”
“Then who?” Ethan asks.
Maddox's expression darkens. “That's what I'm going to find out.”
The corridor feels colder. Someone tried to kill Kai. Someone who isn't James. Someone we don't know yet.
I look through the window. He’s sleeping, bruised and broken but alive.
Someone tried to take him from us. And they're still out there.