“S-s-stop,” I say, trying to wipe at St. Clare’s tears. He’s slowly coming into focus, but I can’t reach him. Did the gunshot fuck my aim up to? “A-am I shaking? D-do I l-look sh-shaky to you?”

“Why didn’t you stick to the plan?”

He screams it so loud I pick up on it this time.

“M-my bracel-let,” I try to explain. Try and fail by the way he’s panicking. Pressure comes from somewhere and almost makes me want to scream, but the sudden pain gets swept up in all the jumble and blurry and swampiness.

I just want to make him smile again. Want him to stop worrying and remember all of that forever we still have to look forward to.

“R-Reilly?” The word hurts, but I only need a few more. To tell him how I feel, to have someone I belong with.

I don’t remember much after that.

CHAPTER FIFTY

ST. CLARE

My legs are bouncing out a rhythm as I sit in the hospital chair, waiting for any kind of news and wanting to be literally anywhere else. Lars’s hand closes over my knee again, and he murmurs, “He’ll be okay,” for only the millionth time since we got here.

Margot was allowed to go through when she tore in here in an oversized jacket, polka dot pants, and odd shoes, and after that flurry of activity, it’s been dead out here.

I internally cringe at my choice of words.

It’s been still. Silent. The waiting is digging into my nervous system and sending it haywire.

I don’t know what Everett and Arlie told the ambulance about the shooting, and they took way too long to even call one for my liking, so if he’s not okay … if he … if he …

The automatic door beside the waiting area swings open, and Margot bursts out of it. “Blood loss, lots of pain meds, but should be okay.”

Every last scrap of oxygen and tension whistles out of me. I hunch over my knees, feeling even more sick than I was a second ago, while Lars rubs my back.

“So he’s fine.”

“They’ll know more once he’s conscious, but no vital organs were hit.” And like she’s been holding herself up by sheer will, she drops suddenly into a crouch, arms wrapped tight around her knees. “He got so fucking lucky.”

I’m nodding because I don’t have the words. Relief isn’t strong enough for what I’m feeling now.

Elle leaves her seat and sits beside Margot, pulling her into her arms. “We’ve always known Perry was something special, love. This just proves it.”