Page 120 of One Last Shot

Now he slept, his eyes opening occasionally.

“Walked right out of the hospital without being checked out,” Oaken said. “I walked through a crowd of press—thank you, Huxley—and went up to her room, and her roommate said she’d escaped. Like a prison break.”

“Maybe she was just tired of hospitals,” Seraphina said. “I am.” She put her hand on Mike’s arm. “But also grateful for everything they’ve done for Mike.”

“I don’t think that was the problem,” he said quietly. He walked over to the other chair, sank down in it. “After I came up to see you, I went back to the Tooth with Moose, got my car, and Moose gave me her address. I went over to her house.” He looked at his coffee. “She was gone. Went to the airport with her brother.”

Silence.

He looked up.

“Well, I can’t say that I’m that upset.”

His mouth opened.

“She’s... Huxley showed me the video of her telling off that poor man?—”

“Who tried to hit Moose! The guy was upset—I get that. I was upset. We all were. And we’d done our best to find the woman, but it was dangerous outside. As it was, I stuck around and we went out as soon as the blizzard lifted. I’m not sure we would have found her without the cat plowing her up.”

“That’s so gross.”

“It is. And... she was... well, for sure she’dbeen killed. How, we’re not sure, but it looked like an assault, and that she’d been shot...” He shook his head against the memory.

The dark side of rescue.

“Her sister was grateful.” Seraphina smiled.

He stared at her. “Yes.” He didn’t love the fact that the camera caught her embrace, but what was he going to do—push her away?

“And the social media is fantastic.” She picked up her phone from the nearby cart, opened an app, and flashed him a picture. Caroline hugging him, with hearts and a #countrymusichero hashtag across the picture. “And there are a lot more.” She put the phone down. “I think you’re finally the darling of country music again. No more state fair memes.”

A sourness sat in his stomach. “I don’t care what social media says.” He got up. “I need to talk to Boo. But she won’t take my calls, either.” He finished his coffee, dropped it in the basket. “All I can think is that maybe she overheard what Huxley said about me faking our relationship for the camera.”

Seraphina raised an eyebrow.

“But certainly she would have heard me tell Huxley that wasn’t true—we practically got into a shouting match right there in the clinic.”

“I know. She told us about it when she stopped by yesterday, after you left.”

He shook his head. “I’m done with this reality television business.”

“Don’t say that.” The voice that emerged from Mike trembled, weak. He opened his eyes, blinked, and looked over at Oaken. “You did great.”

He held up his hand, trembling, a fist for Oaken to bump.

Oaken met it. “Glad to see you awake, Mike. You had us all scared.”

Mike gave a wry smile. “Dramafor the camera.”

“Right. Listen. You get well.” Oaken thumped him on the shoulder. “I’m heading out today to the lower forty-eight.”

“How did your songwriting go?” Seraphina asked.

He stopped at the end of the bed. “Actually, after Boo left, I hung around in the lobby. It was pretty late, but there’s a piano there. I worked out some lyrics.”

More than some. He’d let himself stir up the words he’d found on his hike with Hannah.

“I can’t wait to hear the song.” She got up and went over to him. Hugged him. Then caught his face in her hands. “You’re the real deal, Oaken. Don’t let anyone tell you anything else.”