Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 215

Chapter 215

Ryan hesitates, still standing in the doorway, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he glares at us.

Julie’s patience has clearly reached its limits. “Leave, Ryan,” she says.

He takes one last look at her, and then, after what feels like an eternity, he steps outside. I feel the tension release from my shoulders, a relief washing over me. But Julie isn’t done. She strides out after him. I follow her, partly to make sure Ryan doesn’t pull any funny business, but mostly because watching him get humiliated is proving to be its own special kind of therapy.

Grant, the security guard, is waiting outside, his eyes darting from Julie to Ryan to me.

“Mrs. O’Brien, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I tried to stop him from coming in, but the gate’s sensor recognized his car.”

Julie gives him a short nod. “Don’t worry about it, Grant, I’ll fix that.”

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Without another word, she walks over to Ryan’s car, reaching up. She tugs at the sticker tag, struggling with it for a while before ripping it from the windshield. Then she tosses it aside, dusting off her hands.

“Problem solved,” she says. “Now you can leave.”

Right then, a strange look clouds her face.

“Ryan?” she says.

I turn to see what she’s staring at.

Ryan is standing behind, not moving. I notice his face is paler than before, a pained expression crossing his features as he clutches his chest. His breathing is shallow, ragged. I share a glance with Julie, who looks equally confused.

Julie takes a step forward. “Jesus, Ryan, I’m not in the mood for games.”

But he doesn’t respond. His hand stays clamped over his chest, his face creased with pain. Then, without a word, he collapses onto the driveway, crumpling like a rag doll.

Grant rushes forward, kneeling beside him, his fingers hovering, unsure of where to start. He looks back at us, his face pale. “I… I think he’s having a heart attack.”

“The hell?” Julie says. She runs forward and kneels. “You can’t be having a heart attack right now, Ryan. Come on.”

“We need to get him to the ER,” I say.

“I’ll get changed.” She stands up and heads back into the house.

Later, the three of us are in Ryan’s car, and I grip the wheel, navigating the silent streets, trying to push the chaos in my head aside. I glance at Julie from the rearview mirror. She’s staring out the window, face hard, but there’s something in her features–fragile, softer around the edges. Like glass about to shatter.

“How are you hanging in there?” I ask.

“I’m great,” she says. “I’m not the one having a heart attack.”

“I don’t think it’s a heart attack,” I reply.

“Whatever it is, he better not fucking die. I have been through a lot already. His death will be a disaster. The police will come asking questions. Ryan just won’t leave me alone, will he? He has to ruin my life. Alive, he messes with my head. Now he can’t die somewhere else? He has to die in my house?” Her voice gets louder, full of anger. “Why can’t I just have one moment of peace? It’s like every time I find joy, Ryan’s always there to ruin it.”

Her voice cracks, and she sobs. My grip tightens on the wheel. I know she’s hanging by a thread right now. If I wasn’t driving a half–conscious man to the hospital, I’d stop and wrap my arms around her until all this anger and sadness drains away.

“Just breathe, Julie,” I say, holding her gaze in the mirror. “It’ll be okay. Ryan’s not going to die, and the police won’t be questioning you. Just hang in there for me, alright?”

She doesn’t respond.

Damn Ryan for ruining a perfect night.

We arrive at the hospital, and the emergency staff are already on ground, rushing to meet us. The moment the car stops, I’m out and by Julie’s side, wrapping her in my arms as she dissolves into tears. I stroke her hair, murmuring soothing words, though my own frustration still pulses under my

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Chapter 215

skin.

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“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get him checked in so we can get the hell out of here.”

We walk together to the reception desk. Julie starts the paperwork, hesitating when the receptionist asks for her relationship to the patient.

“His wife,” she whispers.

“Come again?”

“I’m his wife.”

I can see how much those words hurt her.

She finishes the form, and as soon as she hands it over, I lean down, brushing a hand over her shoulder. “They’ve got what they need. We can go

now.”

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But Julie stays rooted to the spot, her gaze locked on the door where they wheeled Ryan away. My heart clenches as I watch her. She’s too quiet, too

made, the good

still. I’m terrified that she’s slipping away from me, that the reality of it all–the years she’d spent with Ryan, the vows sh

memories that must be tangled somewhere in the mess–is clawing its way to the surface.

She turns to me, her eyes glassy, and says, “Am I evil, Luke?”

The question catches,me off guard. “No. Why would you even think that?”

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