Fifty-Seven

Isobelle

Alex's black silhouette was visible in the vanity mirror. I twisted around to look at him, my eyes wincing at the bloodstained gauze that was taped to his back. He was lying down on his stomach with his face angled to the side, his back muscles rising and falling with each gentle respiration.

I could hear muffled voices outside the room. Lucas was offering Grayson and Mason a beer. The glass bottles were clinking together as he rummaged through the fridge. If I wasn't pregnant, I would be the first in line for a drink. Anything to rid my mouth of the awful taste of remorse. My focus was on Alex, and how frail he looked right now. The bed sagged as I perched on the edge and released a mournful sigh.

“Look at you,” I murmured, reaching out to push his fringe back.

He always styled his hair to perfection, but now it was stuck to his forehead with a mixture of blood and sweat. His skin was clammy, and the smell of antiseptic lingered in the air. It was so thick I could practicall