I walk with Walker down the hallway and ask him curiously, "What happened? How did he get shot?"
There are so many things I don’t know about the Ghost Team, and a lot of it they can't give you answers to. I don't know how many times things happened that Nash came home with bruises and cuts and things like that and I couldn't ask any questions. So I probably shouldn’t be asking now, but I'm surprised when Walker answers me, "A woman had broken down on the highway, and Nash stopped to help her with her car. The woman's boyfriend stopped and was mad. I guess he had just beaten her up as she was leaving. He got a shot off at Nash, but it grazed his arm. They're more worried about his head because he hit the bumper going down."
My hand tightens around Walker's. "But is he going to be okay?"
He nods as we stop outside of a door. There are doctors and nurses walking all around us, but I don't pay attention to any of them. My eyes are glued to Walker, wanting to make sure that he’s telling me the truth.
“The doctors say that head injuries are the worst, but it's a good thing that he remembers you and the rest of us.”
I nod. "Good, that's good, right?"
He nods reassuringly. "Yeah, honey, that's good."
On the way to the hospital, I thought about our fight the other night and all the horrible things that I accused him of. We haven't talked since, even though I know he's been around watching me like he normally does. I take a deep breath, and Walker looks at me with his hand on the door. "Are you ready?"
I can feel by the way Walker is looking at me that it's a loaded question. He's not asking me if I'm just ready to walk into a hospital room to check on an old friend; he's wanting to know if I'm ready for more. Truth is, I don't know if I am or not, but I know that I won't leave here until I know that Nash is okay. I nod my head and sob, "I'm ready."
We walk into the room, and Nash's head is lolling to the side. From where I'm standing, he looks okay, his color is a little off, and the soft beep of the machine standing next to him is annoying, but at least he's breathing... at least he’s in one piece.
Walker leans down and whispers to me so as not to disturb Nash, "I'm going to give you all some time, okay?"
Without even looking at him, I nod and walk over toward the bed. I hear the door as it closes behind him, but I can't take my eyes off Nash. Even lying there with machines hooked up to him, he's the most handsome man I've ever met. I debate whether I should touch him or talk to him, but I don’t debate long. The need to touch him and feel him again is intense. I reach out and touch my finger along the back of his hand. It's just a gentle touch, but it's enough.
Nash's eyes open, and he blinks at me, over and over as if he doesn’t believe what he’s seeing. "You came," he says, surprised.
I can't hold back the sob, and I know I'm blubbering like an idiot, but I nod my head. "Yeah, I came, of course I came."
I can't stop the tears this time, and he lifts his hand and wraps it around my wrist, pulling me toward him. I go to him willingly, at least until I see the grimace on his face. "I'll hurt you."
He stops pulling, but he doesn't release me. He looks me square in the eye. "You won't hurt me, Emery. If I could just hold you one more time, you would help me, you would make me feel better."
I could never resist Nash before, and I'm learning that I can't now either. I go to him and lie down on the side of the bed next to him. His arm is around my back, and my hand goes to his chest. There are wires everywhere, but neither one of us seems to care. I rest my head on his shoulder, and when I do, he lets out a long, deep, satisfying breath as if the weight of the world has been on his shoulders and now he's free.
We lie there for I don't know how long, but I know I have to say what's on my mind. "I'm sorry about the other night, what I said to you."
He tucks his chin against the top of my head. "You don’t owe me an apology. I have so many regrets, Emery." I can hear the weight of those regrets in his voice. Does he regret marrying me or even meeting me?