“How about we wake him up?”
“Is it time?”
“His fever is down, and the antibiotics have been going several hours.”
I stand quickly, moving out of her way. “Do you need me to wait outside?”
“Nope. I’m just changing out his bag, reducing the medication. When he comes around, he’ll probably want to see a familiar face. He might be a little disoriented.”
My chest clenches. “Thank you,” is all I can say.
I watch as she works around him. The doctor enters holding a metal clipboard with papers on top. He steps over to one of the large monitors and makes notes. “Oxygen levels are good,” he says quietly. “Let me know if anything changes.”
The monitor beeps, and I wait. Nothing seems to be happening.
“Mr. Alexander?” The nurse touches his shoulder.
No response.
Her expression changes, and fear cramps my stomach. “Is something wrong?”
“Not necessarily.” She steps over to the monitors again and makes a few notes. “I want you to call me when his eyes open. I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.”
She goes around the screen, and it’s just the two of us. I’m on edge near his pillow waiting, straining for him to wake up. A round clock above the small television mounted on the wall says it’s almost nine. I hadn’t asked if I could stay overnight, but the doctor didn’t seem interested in making me leave.
My mind drifts back to when Dex was born. I’d decided to have a drug-free delivery, and my groans and screaming as I worked to get our little son into the world nearly drove Derek out of the hospital. I’ll never forget how helpless he looked. A bit like he looks now. Once it was over, he never left my bedside. At one point he climbed in beside me, putting one arm over my head and the other across my waist and around our new baby nestled in my side. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Quickly assessing the position of the tubes and monitors to his left, I sit on the bedside in the small space to his right. Slipping off my shoes, I stretch my legs down his. The arm I was just caressing is between us, and I’m careful not to disturb his injured torso. The beeps continue steadily, without interruption, as I place my cheek against his shoulder and wrap my arm across his chest.
For a little while I only hold him, feeling the warmth of his body soothing the fear in my chest. Several moments pass, and my muscles begin to relax. I feel his calm breathing, in and out, and it calms mine. My body melts into his, and for the first time in three weeks, I feel whole again.
“I won’t leave until you’re back with me,” I say, sliding my palm carefully over his shoulder.
Chapter 17: Finished Business
Derek
An irritating beeping noise is in my ears. It’s dark, and I’m sluggish. My limbs are so heavy, I can’t lift them. Confused, I blink up at the ceiling, trying to remember where the hell I am and how I got here. The last thing I recall is lying on the floor of the jail, blood pooling around my midsection.
Clearly, someone called help. Wait. Ben was there. He called me Captain... Something is across my shoulders. I try to lift up, but pain sears my left side, and I remember the knife going between my ribs, gasping for air. Shit. That fucker must’ve punctured a lung. So I’m in the hospital? Another beep, and I try to move again, but the slim band across my shoulders prevents me.
Turning my head, everything changes. I realize what’s holding me. Melissa. Her soft hair is against my shoulder. I try to lift my arm again, but it feels weighted down. I want to hold her. Straining my neck in her direction, I take a deep inhale... ocean roses. Warmth swells in my chest. She’s in the hospital bed beside me.
“Derek?” Her voice is thick with sleep, and the sound is so lovely. Lifting her face, her dark brow pulls over those beautiful sapphire eyes. “Are you awake?”
I try to answer, but my mouth is so dry. “Yes.” It comes out a scratched whisper.
“Oh!” She’s on her feet at once. “Are you thirsty? Here, let me get you a drink.” She runs around the foot to my other side. A plastic cup is on a rolling tray. She grabs it and is back at my bedside just as fast.
“Take a sip.” Her hand lightly touches my chin as she holds the straw to my lips.
Fuck the water. I want to drink in her lovely form, standing over me. Her eyes are a little swollen, and I realize she’s been crying. My lips part, and I pull the tepid water into my mouth. It’s not very good, but it soothes my throat.
“You’re here.” I whisper. It’s all I can think. She’s here. After all those nights apart when my body ached for hers, she’s right here in this room with me. Then she’s up on the bedside again, leaning closer, but holding herself off my torso.
“I’m here,” she repeats with a smile, her eyes glistening with more tears.
“Don’t cry,” I say, but my voice cracks again. She quickly holds the straw to my lips, and I take another sip.