But in this moment, all she could do was fight to breathe in, breathe out. She could hear a paramedic above her, shouting encouragement. Breathe in, breathe out.

  Even as she felt herself lifted onto a gurney and strapped down, she kept her head turned in Winter’s direction, afraid to lose sight of him. The first time she ever saw him, he had walked into Panacea’s headquarters with all the swagger and insecurity of a star, back straight, eyes burning with life, hungry for the chance to prove himself. Desperate for something.

  Even now, she couldn’t look away from him, could feel the aura of him in the air.

  She tried to envision the world’s grief, should Winter not pull through.

  If she were to die, would anyone mourn?

  One of the paramedics was shouting something in her face. It took her a moment to recognize the man’s furrowed brows. Not a paramedic at all.

  It was Niall.

  “Cossette!” he shouted down at her, but Sydney could barely hear him over the noise of the helicopters. “Breathe, kid, come on.”

  The only time Niall ever called Sydney by her last name was when he was afraid for her. Sydney felt a wash of relief at his presence, then a wave of anguish. She knew this would be the end of everything.

  “You’re such a goddamn pain in the ass,” Niall interrupted. “Stop trying to argue with me and just breathe!”

  Sydney blinked, embarrassed by the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes. She wanted to tell him that she was sorry. She wanted to ask him what had happened between him and his real daughter. She wanted to know if he could ever forgive her.

  She reached out weakly for his hand, as if she were a child, and he grabbed it, as if he were a father. Niall wasn’t looking at her now; he was shouting instructions at others. She tried again to speak, but the world was closing rapidly in, and the edges of her vision faded into black. She looked again for Winter, but the darkness had turned opaque.

  Breathe in. Breathe out.

  Then even that instinct dissipated, and she fell into an endless black.

  35

  The Family You Find

  The first thing Winter Young learned upon waking was that headlines about his shooting had blanketed the world. He could hear the commotion outside the hospital from his suite, a spacious room with a set of double windows that overlooked the building’s front courtyard. They were chanting his name down there, and every now and then a ripple of cheers would rise up, and Winter could only guess it was because they had seen some update on his status.

  The other news he saw on the screen in his room—and the news he found himself much more interested in—was a headline about the seizure of a cargo ship in the North Sea. In a daze, he watched authorities swarming the ship’s deck, their flashlights shining inside opened containers to find thousands of tons of illegal chemical weapons meant to be transported through the Suez Canal.

  No news about Sydney.

  Aside from the chanting outside, the room felt serene. Sunlight streamed in thick and golden from the windows, illuminating the vases of flowers that lined the far wall in rows. The scent of roses filled the space with their heady sweetness. Was he still in London? The light was so bright and cheery that he couldn’t be sure. It reminded him of waking up in the hospital after collapsing onstage two years back—the sense that nothing felt quite real, that he wasn’t really here, that this wasn’t his body. Even the ache in his chest from his wound felt distant, a dull throbbing that he could tell was being held back by a massive dose of painkillers.

  Winter’s eyes shifted to the rest of the room. Two of his usual security team were in here, too, seated quietly on either side of his bed.

  Their presence brought Winter’s reality into focus. He stretched a little, winced as the movement lit up every part of his body with pain, and pulled himself laboriously up into a full sitting position. He rubbed his temples as the fog in his head began to clear and sharper thoughts came through. Sydney must be here, too. Or maybe she’d been discharged already. Or maybe Panacea had come for her and taken her somewhere else. Had she survived? Was she okay? He had no idea, and the not knowing tugged at his chest.

  One of the security guards smiled slightly at him. Winter nodded in return.

  The man’s eyes darted to the doorway, where a pair of figures now arrived at the doorframe. One of them had an unmistakable serenity about him, while the other was wringing his hands nervously.

  Leo and Dameon.

  They both must have been out in the waiting room for a while—their clothes looked rumpled and slept-in, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath their eyes. Leo’s curly hair was a wild tangle, the kind he got whenever he ran his hands through it too much. Dameon studied Winter with his familiar, quiet look.

  Leo let out a long breath. “The nurse said you just woke up,” he said.

  He pushed away from the doorframe, but one of Winter’s guards immediately stepped forward, straightening his intimidating frame. He gave Leo a warning glare.

  “Easy, boy,” he said.

  Then Winter saw the tracking device on Leo’s ankle. He had definitely been arrested. Guilt flooded Winter’s veins.

  “It’s okay,” Winter said to the security guard. The man nodded, settling back against the wall, his eyes still locked on Leo.

  Leo held his hands up. “Sorry, sorry,” he murmured. “No sudden movements, right. I just … Claire said that if Winter woke up today, I could talk to him as long as security was in the room.” He turned his eyes toward Winter. “As long as I kept it brief.”

  Dameon nodded, and Winter was relieved to see the boy put a reassuring hand on Leo’s shoulder. At least they were okay. “We won’t stay long,” Dameon said. “I know you still need to rest.”

  “Thank you,” Winter murmured at them as they came over to the side of his bed. “For being here.”

  For a moment, the three just stared at each other.

  Then Leo whispered, “How are you?”

  Winter hesitated, not sure how to respond. “Okay, I guess,” he replied. “A little sore.” He met his friend’s eyes. “I’m more worried about you.”

  Leo shook his head, closed his eyes, and looked down. A long moment of silence passed before he could speak again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. God, Winter—I—”

  He cut off, not trusting the steadiness of his voice anymore, and started to cry.

  It was a low, mournful sound. Winter didn’t try to stop him. He just took his friend’s hand and pulled him gently forward, then leaned against his shoulder in a quiet embrace. Dameon waited in silence, letting them have their moment.

  After a long while, Leo collected himself. His body shuddered as he leaned away enough to speak again. “My flight back to the US is later tonight,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But I needed to tell you in person what happened. I have to let you know that I never meant any of it, I never wanted—”

  Winter held up a hand at the boy’s rising panic. “Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m here. You’re here. And we’re going to be okay.” Then he met his friend’s eyes steadily. “Take your time.”

  Leo swallowed hard. His hands fiddled at his sides before tucking back into his pockets.

  “They—” he said hoarsely, “they threatened my family—”

  He broke off again, and Winter felt a rush of guilt and shame. So it had been blackmail, after all. He pictured Leo’s family, all his sisters and aunts, his parents. He pictured Leo terrified.

  “Claire said the police are investigating a supposed plot to extort you,” Dameon filled in when Leo fell silent to compose himself. “Apparently, the extortion group had installed one of their own among the security guards at the concert.”

  Leo nodded quietly, and Dameon stopped to let him speak.

  “He told me he knew who I was,” Leo said in a small voice. “He knew the names of my mom and dad, my older sisters. He knew my home address.” He looked stricken. “I don’t know. He said it was just going to be a sleep draft, that they were just going to rob the safe at your house and leave you and Ashley unconscious. I didn’t know what to do. I—”

  “It’s okay,” Winter said softly.

  Leo shook his head rapidly, not listening. “They told me they wouldn’t hurt you. They just wanted to steal from your apartment. But that shouldn’t have mattered, Winter. I’m sorry. I was just so afraid. How did they know so much? I just—”

  Winter reached out and held up a hand. “Hey,” he said. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

  Leo cut off midsentence, his eyes swollen from crying. Winter knew he was thinking back on the moment before their first stadium concert, where he’d said the same thing to him in that closet.

  Winter had done this to his friend. Had put him in a position where he couldn’t help but commit a crime. And now Leo would face the consequences for it. He never should have brought them here, for something that he had only wanted to do by himself. For himself. Why couldn’t he have refused to let them come along? He could have dealt with Claire’s suspicions and spared Leo all this trauma.

  He should have gone through this alone.

  Beside Leo, Dameon watched Winter with his quiet eyes. When Winter met his gaze, he saw something else there, as if Dameon was asking him a question without saying a word aloud.

  Winter tore his gaze away. “I’m sorry,” he said. He could hear the emotion in his own voice. “You were both only there because of me. I put you in that position.”

  “We’re all adults,” Dameon replied, and this time, Winter saw sympathy in his friend’s eyes. “We came here with you because we wanted to.”

  “I’m just glad you’re safe,” Leo replied. He looked around the room, a little lost, uncertain of what to do next.

  “Hey,” Winter said, and his friend turned to him. “You’re going to be okay. I promise. Your family will be safe, and so will you.”

  “And you?” It was a question, and Leo’s voice sounded uncharacteristically hesitant.

  Dameon’s gaze was searching Winter’s face, the corners of his lips turned down into a thoughtful frown.

  Winter looked back at Leo. “Me too,” he said with a nod. “We’ll figure everything out together.”

  Leo seemed desperate to believe it. “Okay,” he answered.

  Over by the door, Claire cleared her throat, and Leo shifted against Winter’s bed to look at her.

  “Just a few more minutes, boys,” she said. “Leo, I heard from your dad. Give him a call when you’re done here, okay?”

  As Leo answered her, Dameon suddenly leaned closer to Winter. “Hey,” he whispered, his voice calm and warm. Winter blinked at him. “I know there’s something going on with you that you can’t talk about. Something big.”

  Winter felt heat rising on the back of his neck. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

  Dameon shook his head. “You do,” he replied. He gave Winter a small smile. “I haven’t been at your side almost every day for five years to not sense when something’s up with you.”

  Winter stared quietly back at him, not knowing how to respond.

  When he didn’t answer right away, Dameon nodded once. “I know you have your reasons, and you don’t have to tell me what they are. Maybe someday you will.” He searched Winter’s face again. “Just remember who’s here for you. You don’t have to work alone.”

  Alone. It was a coincidental statement for Dameon to make—and reminded him of how Sydney had once told him about the loneliness of being an agent. Winter felt himself nodding in return. He thought of all the times when Dameon was able to read his mind, sense his emotions, know when he was exhausted or sad or uncomfortable without ever hearing Winter utter a word about it. His instincts were always impeccable.

  Then Leo was turning back to them, and Dameon had leaned slightly away again, the knowing light in his eyes fading to their usual serenity. He nudged Leo. “We should go,” he said, glancing at Winter. “Let him rest.”

  Leo nodded. “Right. Yes.” He gave Winter a hesitant smile. “See you back in the States?”

  Maybe Winter would take his secrets to his grave. But at least he could still walk through the rest of his life with them. He smiled, then leaned toward Dameon and Leo as if they were huddling before a concert. They leaned instinctively to him in return. He felt their arms around his shoulders, pulling him in. Over their shoulders and by the door, Winter saw Claire rest her head against the doorframe and give him a knowing nod.

  “I have news,” she said.

  36

  The Heart Is Wide and Deep

  Claire waited for the boys to leave before entering. For once, she didn’t look entirely put together. Her yellow collar shirt had a noticeable coffee stain on its sleeve, and a smudge was clear on her glasses, as if she’d fallen asleep with them pressed against her face and hadn’t bothered to wipe them clean yet.

  Winter raised an eyebrow at the sight of her coffee cup—a disposable one from the hospital. “You never drink anything that’s not cold brew,” he said, right before she put the cup down on his dresser and enveloped him in a hug.

  “Limited options at the hospital,” she said. “But believe me, I’ve got one of our guys out right now searching for a decent cup of coffee.”

  “Ouch,” he groaned.

  “Sorry,” she breathed, letting go of him and extending her arms wide. “How are you feeling? I know it’s only been a week.”

  Winter blinked. He didn’t know he’d been in here for that long. Already, the memory of Leo and Dameon visiting him earlier felt like a blur. He shrugged, careful of what he could say in front of her. He had just run a dangerous mission for a private agency; he’d been shot and kidnapped and nearly killed. His body felt destroyed in a way that it’d never been even after his most grueling performances. His mind was unsteady, exhausted.

  “What have the doctors been saying?” he asked.

  Claire reached out to put a hand on his arm. “That you’ll make a full recovery,” she said, looking him firmly in the eye. “And you’ll be back in the studio before you know it. Just give yourself a solid month after we’re home, okay? No strenuous activity in the meantime. And then we’ve got you on some physical therapy for a few weeks. You’re going to have to deal with the media a bit, too, because you’re the biggest news story anywhere right now. You can’t walk down the street without hearing someone talking about it.” She took a breath, then gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry about a thing. All the media and court stuff, I’ll handle. You’re going to be okay.”

  You’re going to be okay. He didn’t know if that would ever be true again. There was a huge segment of his life that he couldn’t share with Claire, and she was here, trying to console him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That you had to endure all this. I know that—”

  She waved her hand at him. “Don’t you dare start apologizing. Just let me be relieved.”

  You don’t even know the half of it, he thought, aching to tell her everything. Instead, he just said, “And Ashley?” He squinted questioningly up at her, heart in his throat. “Is she…”

  “Last I heard, she left the city to check in with her family.” Claire nodded. “She wasn’t being treated here. Don’t worry, though. She said she’d be back.”

  Her family. Sydney had most definitely lied to Claire about what had happened—but at least it sounded like she’d made a faster recovery than Winter. He could still see her blue lips, her body writhing in pain.

  Panacea might have brought their own doctors for Sydney. She might not even be in the country anymore. But her words relieved some of the building pressure in Winter’s chest. At least she’d made it.

  What if she’d returned to the States without him? The realization startled him. What if she had to leave without telling him goodbye? What if he never saw her again?

  “I’m not worried,” he said.

  “Oh, I think you’re a little worried.” Claire smiled briefly at him. “Something happened between you two, and don’t think you can keep that from me.” She straightened, and her smile wavered. “But she’s not why I came in here to see you.”

  “Why?” Winter looked at her. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s someone in the waiting room who has been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up again.”

  Winter glanced up at her. She gave him a quiet nod.

  “Your mother, Winter.”

  Oh.

  He felt heat flush his cheeks, followed by a wave of terror. Of all the people he’d expected to come visit, he hadn’t even considered his mother.

  “I promised her I’d let her know the instant you were awake.” Claire sounded unsure now. “Do you want to see her?”

  I’m not ready. The truth echoed inside him. He was still unsteady from the conversation with Leo, still not quite able to take in everything that had happened.

  But he found himself nodding. “Of course.” The answer sounded mechanical, his urgency fake. A son was supposed to be happy to see his mother, wasn’t he?

  Claire nodded at him, doubt still in her eyes, before rising and patting his shoulder once. “I’ll be back,” she said to him. “We have a lot more to discuss about your next steps.” She quieted, and her voice turned somber. “But take your time, understand? Let me handle the rest.”

  He didn’t want Claire to leave the room yet, and his lips parted, wanting to ask her to stay a little longer, but then she was gone, heels clicking. He heard a low murmur of voices outside. The sound of someone that made him sit up more stiffly in bed.

  And then a new silhouette was standing in the doorway, her hair as straight and neatly pinned as ever, the white pearls around her neck, the collar tucked behind her sweater ironed and starched.

  She hesitated at the doorway as their eyes met. “Baby bear,” she said.

  “Hi, Mom,” he replied, his throat dry.

  She stepped in hesitantly, her eyes darting momentarily to the windows as the chants rose and fell again, and then came over to stand awkwardly at the foot of his bed. Her hands folded in front of her, fumbling for a moment before grabbing each other for support.