Light up the Night (Firehouse Three #2)(54)

Her chest seized, lungs refusing to allow any breath in or out. The blonde splayed a hand on Drake’s belly, rubbing down toward his thigh. Pain speared through Everly’s heart. She had to get out of there. Then, just as quickly, anger spread in her chest.

Drake was hers. She’d picked him, and who the hell was this woman to try to come between them?

“Who are you?” She demanded, taking a step into the room. Her adrenaline spiked, her hands trembled. She wasn’t sure if it was fear for Drake’s condition or just pure rage, but either way, her fingertips were doing Mambo Number 5.

“I’m his fiancée. Who the hell are you?”

“Bitcherella?” Hunter shoved past Everly. “Aw, hell naw.”

“Nice to see you again too, f*ck-face,” the woman spat. She turned her glare back to Everly. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Stay the hell away from my man.”

“Jesus, Belinda,” Drake groaned, but his hand was plastered to the bandage on his head as if he was still in pain. A flash of worry pierced Everly, but she had to get through blondie to get to him.

“Your man?” Everly barked an incredulous laugh. “Since when is he your man?”

“Since years ago, you f*cking slut!” Belinda sailed at Everly, fingers curled into claws. But Everly ducked her advance, plowing her shoulder into the blonde’s midsection. With a grunt, she fell against the bedside tray table, knocking it to the floor with a loud clatter.

“What the hell is going on in here?” A nurse poked her head in the door, then yelled down the hall. “Security!”

“We’re going,” Jesse said, grabbing Everly’s arm and yanking her to her feet.

Before she was shoved out of the room by her best friend, Everly caught Drake’s gaze. His look spoke volumes.

Shit was so f*cked up.



“Everly,” Drake croaked, his vocal cords still fried from the smoke.

“Ssssh, baby, don’t try to talk,” Belinda said, patting his cheek. He knocked her hand away with a glare.

Hunter was still standing by the doorway, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest, looking good and pissed off.

“You need to leave. Right now,” the nurse reiterated.

Belinda pouted, her too-full lips becoming even more exaggerated. “That’s no way to talk to his fiancée.”

Drake jumped in. “You are not my fiancée. We’re over. I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you that for you to get it through your skull.”

The nurse shook her head. “Security will be here in a few minutes. Get yourselves together by then.” She left the room.

Belinda drew back and crossed her arms as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The pain wrapped around his skull and squeezed like his cranium was a lemon and someone needed a glass of tea. But he couldn’t sit there, not when Everly was hurting. If he hurried, maybe he could catch her before she got kicked out. He grasped the IV pole, wincing as he put weight on his bum leg.

He hobbled toward the door, his head throbbing harder with every step, and before he could get there, it swung open to admit his best friend.

Hunter didn’t seem to notice Drake at first. He speared Belinda with a “drop dead” look before turning those pissed-off peepers on Drake.

“What’s the she-devil doing here?”

“Leaving,” Drake said, tossing a pointed glare over his shoulder. “Where’s Everly?”

“Jesse’s taking her out of here before she gets escorted out by security.” Hunter crossed his arms. “You okay?”

“I’ve been better,” Drake said as he wheeled his IV toward the door. “I’m heading after Everly.”

“You’re not going to get far unless you unplug this sumbitch,” Hunter said as he yanked the cord. He bent down to gather up the extra leads and coiled them on the hook at the back of the pole. Grabbing Belinda’s purse, he tossed it to her.

“You can’t kick me out of here,” she said, temper making her face ugly.

“Yes, actually, he can, because I agree.” Drake said as he limped through the doorway, thankful that his best friend stood by his side to keep him from falling, and to keep his hospital gown from falling open and gifting Belinda with the sight of his ass. “When I get back, you’d better be gone.”

With Belinda angry and sputtering behind them, Drake and Hunter moved slowly down the hall toward the elevators.

“I didn’t know what had happened to you. The guys just said you’d been carted off in the ambulance,” Hunter said, an uncharacteristic note of emotion in his tone. “Looks like that hard head of yours took the brunt of the damage. You should be fine. Buck up, buttercup.”

“Thanks for the encouragement, *,” Drake said without venom. He focused on the wheels of his IV pole as they walked. It gave him something other than the pain in his head and leg to focus on. Like, the worry about Everly.

She’d seen Belinda at her absolute worst. And he wasn’t stupid. He knew what kind of mental comparisons Everly would be drawing right about now.

But she didn’t understand. Exactly how beautiful she was to him, how smart, how perfect. Belinda was Belinda. But Belinda was as artificial and calculating as Everly was loving and genuine. There was no comparison.