Craving My Brother's Best Friend (Bailey and Kaleb) novel Chapter 64

**The Night We Borrowed Fire from a Broken Star by Selvin Arlo Crest**

**Chapter 64**

**Bailey’s POV**

Inside the car, my entire body trembled like a leaf caught in a storm.

I pressed my palms against my tear-streaked face, but the salty streams continued to flow unbidden.

A heavy weight settled in my chest, squeezing tighter with every frantic thought that rushed through my mind. What if my dad was gone?

What if I never heard his comforting voice again?

What would become of me, of David, of Mom?

The car seemed to move at an impossible pace, racing forward yet dragging its feet.

Each red light felt like a cruel joke, and I found myself wishing for the power to teleport us straight to the hospital, to escape this agonizing wait.

“Bailey, hey, breathe,” Kaleb’s voice sliced through the chaos swirling in my mind.

His hand found my arm, a gentle touch amidst my turmoil. “It’s going to be okay. I’m sure he’s alive, and it’s not as bad as you think.

You hear me? Just breathe.”

I turned to look at him, but the tension in his jaw told me a different story. His knuckles were white as they gripped the steering wheel, a clear indication of his own distress.

He was trying to maintain a facade of calm, but I could see the cracks. I knew he was struggling too, holding it together for my sake and for David.

A fresh wave of sobs escaped me.

“What if he dies, Kaleb? What if…” My voice broke, heavy with fear.

“What will happen to us?”

From the back seat, David leaned forward, his face pale yet resolute. “He’s not going to die, Bailey.”

His voice was unexpectedly strong, more firm than I had anticipated.

“We’re not thinking like that. Dad is tough; he’ll definitely pull through. He has to.”

I nodded, desperate to cling to his words, yet my body continued to tremble, my mind a whirlwind of doubt.

Kaleb glanced at me once more, his gaze steady. “Listen to David. Your dad’s going to be fine. I promise you.”

I wanted to believe him, to wrap myself in his words like a warm blanket, but faith felt elusive in the face of my fears.

Finally, the hospital loomed ahead, its imposing structure illuminated by bright red letters that glowed ominously against the night sky. My heart leaped into my throat, a wild drumbeat of anxiety.

Kaleb swerved into the driveway, the tires screeching in protest.

“We’re here,” he said, urgency lacing his voice.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop, I flung open the door and stumbled out, my legs feeling like jelly beneath me.

David was right beside me, sprinting to catch up. “Come on,” he urged, his voice a beacon of determination.

Kaleb joined us, his hand grasping mine as we pushed through the sliding glass doors of the hospital.

A blast of cold air hit me, mingling with the sharp scent of disinfectant that filled the space. The atmosphere buzzed with the noise of ringing phones, hurried conversations, and doctors weaving through the crowd like frantic shadows.

“Where’s Mr. Hart?” Kaleb asked the nurse at the front desk, his tone clipped and urgent.

“Gunshot wound, right?” the nurse replied, flipping through a stack of papers.

“Yes!” I cried, my voice rising with desperation. “Please, where is he?”

“Room 214, second floor,” she said, her tone brisk.

Without a moment’s hesitation, I took off, dragging David along behind me. My lungs burned with each frantic breath, the sound of my shoes slapping against the floor echoing in my ears.

When we reached the room, I nearly collapsed against the doorframe, my heart pounding wildly.

There lay my dad on the bed, pale but alive, his eyes half-open, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

“Dad!” I cried, rushing to his side.

“Bailey…” His voice was weak, but it was there—so real, so precious.

I grasped his hand, pressing kisses to it over and over, tears of relief spilling down my cheeks.

“You’re alive, oh God, you’re alive. I thought I’d lost you.”

David stood on the other side, his hands gripping the bed rail tightly.

His expression softened, tears glistening in his eyes. “Dad, you scared us.”

The doctor turned to us, his demeanor professional yet reassuring. “It was a surface wound; the bullet didn’t penetrate deeply. He lost some blood, but he’s stable now.

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