The Secret (Magnolia Grove #4) - SERIES COMPLETE

Chapter 12 - {Holden}

PRESENT

THE LAST HOUR has been one of the longest of my life. The mind is a funny thing. It's amazing how many insane scenarios it can create when it's missing all the details surrounding an event. If I hadn't been through the worst cases of those situations, I'd probably have more hope for the best. But in both cases, things were so much worse than what they seemed—Vi and my father.

I'm officially off from my shift. When I got back in my car, I contemplated trying to call Cammie's parents, but I know from previous experience they aren't answering my calls. And Wells apparently isn't going to, either. There aren't any missed calls or texts despite reaching out to him earlier. I could message him, but I'm not sure it would matter. Instead, I figure I'll try it from Cammie's phone when I get to her room.

Cutting my cell back off to save on battery, I put it in one of the cup holders. The only person that would call me is Cammie, and I'm going to be with her. Besides, I'm going to need as little distractions as possible to do this.

Shaking my head, I let out a breath. Instead of the date I planned for us, we're back to this familiar place of tug-of-war that's filled with miscommunications and secrets.

I've been waiting for the perfect time to tell her, but I can't wait any longer. We have to finally talk. It's going to feel like a jerk move to do it while she's sick in the hospital, but seeing her with Oliver...I don't know how to describe how that made me feel. All I've been able to think this afternoon is maybe he's not the right person for her. Maybe neither of us is.

Getting out of my car, I make my way to the information desk to find out if Cammie's been admitted because I figured that was coming—that they'd want to run some tests, which can't be done until tomorrow since it's already the evening. After I get the room number, I realize I didn't even stop at the store to get her flowers. What kind of boyfriend does that make me? Boyfriend. We've yet to define ourselves. I love the way that sounds. There are only two ways to describe my relationship that would sound better. Fiancé and husband. And up until today, I thought I may have had a chance at those, but now I'm not so sure.

Running into the gift shop before they close, I grab the best looking flowers they have to offer. I know as soon as I see the ones I want to get for her. It's a bouquet of red roses mixed with tiger lilies. Grabbing them, I take them to the counter. When the cashier tells me they're eighty dollars, I nearly choke before handing her my credit card. How can a hospital feel good about robbing people who are here to visit people that are sick? That's chump change to me, but still. For fucking flowers. That are going to die.

Less than two minutes later, I'm knocking on her door, feeling like I don't belong—like she's not my everything. "Hey. Can I come in?"

"Yeah," she says. When I open the door, my body immediately relaxes to see we're alone. Thank fuck for something going right. I nearly forget why we're here as I take in the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, even when she's not one hundred percent. "I'm sorry he was with me."

When I said we needed to talk, I didn't really mean about him, but I guess it's inevitable.

"Those are gorgeous, by the way."

I smile as I put them beneath her nose so she can smell them. She moans as she inhales. Pulling them away, I put them on her side table. If I have to hear her make sounds like she does when I give her orgasms, I'm not going to be able to do what I came up here to do.

Before I get to that, my lips crave hers, and I lean down and brush mine against her warm mouth, wishing I could have done that nine years ago instead of what I had to do instead. I want to kiss her, but she's been vomiting blood, so that's kind of freaking me out. But her lips don't have a metallic taste. "Are you sure you didn't just puke up strawberries?"