Derek paced the hospital corridor like a caged animal. His hair stood in wild disarray, and someone had thrust a pair of jeans and a shirt at him earlier. He had not bothered to button the shirt; it hung open over his chest as he moved. His face was a map of everything he was feeling; worry, guilt, regret, none of it hidden, none of it managed.
Kai leaned against the wall with his ankles crossed and his hands buried in his trouser pockets, his white shirt streaked with dirt from his struggle with his cousin, his blonde hair still dishevelled from the ordeal. He watched Derek pace without comment.
Declan sat on the bench opposite, arms folded, eyes tracking Derek's every back-and-forth movement.
They had been standing outside the emergency ward for what felt like a very long time.
"This is all my fault," Derek muttered. It was not the first time he had said it. It was closer to the hundredth.
