My gut aches with regret and fear, while my chest is tight with the pain of knowing that the woman I’m in love with is in surgery having a bullet removed from her beautiful body.
And the baby.
When I think about losing him, I can’t breathe.
So, I try not to think about it.
But it doesn’t look good.
I pace.
I can’t stand it.
So, I pace some more.
I haven’t slept since we got to the hospital. Now fatigue crashes over me, and my bruised knuckles are throbbing from taking Otto down, but I can’t think about that now.
Dolly leaves one of the plastic chairs lining the waiting room wall to stand next to me, and I stop pacing.
“Maybe you should try to get some rest, sugar,” she says, rubbing my lower back. “You’ve been up all night.”
“I’m not going anywhere till I see her,” I say, my body tense.
I start pacing again because when I stand still, I can feel every cell in my body swelling with tension.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Lily’s surgeon appears, and I don’t have to say anything to him because my expression says it all—I’m out of my mind with worry.
“You can relax, she pulled through. She’s in a bit of pain, but she’s going to be fine.” He smiles.
Weak with relief, I almost sag against him, but then I think of my son.
“And the baby?”
Please let my son be okay.
The doctor’s face goes blank, and my breath snags in my throat when he says, “She wants to see you.”
The relief I felt a moment ago. Yeah, it’s quickly replaced with a surge of panic. But I tell myself it’s okay because whatever has happened, we’ll work through it together. Whatever she needs, even if my heart breaks, I’ll do whatever I have to do to make sure Lily gets through this.
“Can I see her?” I ask.
He nods. “She’s pretty insistent you do.”
If he says anything else, I don’t hear it because the moment the doors to the recovery ward open, I take off through them and disappear into the sterile labyrinth like I’ve been shot out of a cannon. Weaving my way through the ward, I don’t stop until I find her. She’s in a room by herself, lying on the bed with the sheet pulled up to her waist. Her eyes are closed, and she looks peaceful and beautiful.
Pausing to gather my breath, I feel the love I have for her tighten in my heart.
I’ve got you, baby.
Hearing me approach, her eyelashes lift.
“Hey,” I say, dropping to the bed beside her and taking her hand in mine. My heart lifts when she focuses her beautiful eyes on me because I’m so relieved she’s okay.
“Hey yourself,” she replies hoarsely.
“How are you feeling?”
She smiles weakly. “Sleepy. Relieved.”
Fighting the tears I’ve been holding onto since this goddamn nightmare started, I tangle my fingers through hers. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, baby.” I lean forward and press a kiss onto her cool forehead, closing my eyes because I want to ask about the baby, but I’m terrified to know the answer.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” she whispers.
Opening my eyes, I mentally brace myself. “The baby…”
Another soft smile parts her lips as her beautiful eyes find mine. “He’s fine, Doc.” I physically let go of the breath I was holding and sink against the bed in relief. She smiles up at me. “I wanted to tell you myself.”
Fighting my tears, I blink a few times, then drag her hand to my lips and press a kiss into her palm. But my tears are a force of their own, and I can’t hold them back. With a quivering chin, I give into them, and they carve a salty path down my face. I’m so damn thankful that my family is still intact.
Reaching up, Lily glides her knuckles down my cheek, and I close my eyes at the simple touch of her fingers against my skin because her touch is everything—hell, it means every-damn-thing. “We’re safe.”
I smile and blow out a shaky breath. “I know.”
Her eyes roll down to my swollen knuckles. “Your hands?”
“Someone had to stop Otto.”
“You caught him?”
I give her a sheepish grin. “Caught him, broke his face… there’s a fine line between the two.”
“The last time I saw him, he was unconscious on the floor after I put my boot in his face.”
I smile through my tears.
I think I just fell in love with her all over again.
“Apparently, in all the chaos of you being shot and Bronte calling for help, he regained consciousness and escaped the hospital. That’s when I found him.”
“And beat the crap out of him.”
“He’s alive. But according to sources… Humpty Dumpty needs surgery to piece his face back together again.”
A small smile softens on her lips, and I bend my head to kiss them.