“I was running on adrenaline, apparently. Let me call Faith, and then you can have the paramedics make their way over. I’m about ready for this shit show of a day to be over.” I take my phone out of his hand.
“Yeah, I bet. Let me see if I can’t rustle up the guys and get you to the hospital.” I nod my head, already unlocking my phone, smiling when I see a text from Faith but grimacing at the same time when I see it came through ago.
“Oh God, Graham, tell me you’re okay.” The phone barely rings before Faith’s voice hits my ears, laced with panic.
“I’m okay. In the ambulance and going to the hospital as a precaution, but I’m okay, baby, I promise.” I don’t want to tell her that I was shot at, not over the phone.
“Graham Larson, don’t you tell me a story.” A smile stretches on my face. Faith using her mom voice on me won’t change a damn thing.
“I’m not. Shit took longer than I wanted to, and now it’ll be an even longer night. Tell Champ I’m sorry, but we won’t be getting ice cream, after all.” The tightness in my chest from the bruising makes it difficult to inhale and exhale easily.
“No one cares about ice cream, damn it. Don’t joke about that. All I care about is that you’re safe. Same with Logan,” she says, then I hear Logan’s voice in the background, “You tell him, Mommy!”
“Glad to hear you love me, Faith,” I tease her.
“You hush. You’re not getting those words over the phone or when you’re hurt. I know you’re in pain and keeping something from me. Logan’s putting his shoes on and loading up his tablet. We’ll be on our way.” She’s not giving me any chance to reason with her.
“Faith, baby, you and Logan stay home. I’ll be there as soon as I’m released. There’s no reason for you two to wait around a hospital all night, seeing God knows what.”
“And you’re plum crazy if you think I’m not going to be there when the man who has stolen my heart is in the hospital. Now, I have to get Logan loaded up. Leave my name with the nurse, please.” Talk about hitting me where it counts.
“Alright, I get what you’re saying even if I’m not thrilled that you and Logan will be sitting around there bored out of your minds. Drive safe. Hell, at the rate this night is going, you’ll beat me there. See you soon, baby,” I reply as the paramedics are walking towards me.
“See you there.” She hangs up just as I’m greeted. I smile through the pain because Faith wasn’t being adamant for me to leave my job or to give me up. Nope, my tough-as-nails woman pulled up her bootstraps and is on her way to me. If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll nurse me back to health, too.
Fifteen
Faith
“Mommy, when do we get to see Mr. Graham?” Logan must ask for the hundredth time since we arrived at the hospital.
“Hopefully soon. They had to take him to get X-rays as a precaution.” At least that’s what the nurse said after she escorted us to his room in the emergency room, which I’m sure they made special arrangements for us to even be back here, since Logan is a minor and Graham isn’t even in here.
“That’s cool. Did you know they can see all of his bones with an X-ray, and even the size of his heart and lungs? I bet he’s got a big heart, Mommy.” He looks up from his tablet, then goes back to it.
“I did know that, and I bet you’re right, too. Graham is a pretty amazing guy.” Part of me wants to ask Logan what he’d think about Graham being a part of our life permanently, another is worried I’m moving too fast. I guess it’s something that I’ll need to talk about with the man of the hour.
“You should marry him, Mommy.” Thankfully, I’m sitting down, or I’d probably fall over. Of course, that’s the exact moment Graham is wheeled back in. Yes, I said that right. It only ratchets up my nerves because he said it was a precaution for him to be here, yet he’s in a wheelchair.
“That she should. You think that would be an okay thing? I’d be in your life permanently.” Graham has a shit-eating grin on his face.
“You mean like how you’ve been spending the night but pretending you’re leaving but you’re not?” Logan says, like it’s not a surprise.
“Logan,” I attempt to rein him in.
“Yeah, champ, like that,” Graham feeds into him. I watch as my son gets out of his chair, moves as quickly as he can, and plops onto Graham’s lap.
“Careful, Logan.” I’m reaching for him as I hear a grunt. “You have some explaining to do. The marriage part we’ll have to talk about later.”