“Yes. Your baby’s fine. You sprained your wrist, and there were quite a few minor cuts—nothing serious—plus a blow to the head that gave you a heck of a nose-bleed. Basically, you’re banged up and you’re going to have raccoon eyes for a week or so, but you’re fine. We checked everything thoroughly.”
“Thank you,” Vanessa whispered. “What time is it now?”
“Ten thirty. Your brothers dragged your husband out to get him to eat something.”
He was here! Vanessa sagged. Even after I was so stupid.
The nurse went on: “He didn’t want to leave you alone. I’ll let them know you’re awake.”
“No, let them finish eating first.”
“All right. Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “Just tired.”
“If you need anything, all you have to do is press the button here.” The nurse showed her the call button and left.
Vanessa relaxed against the pillow and swallowed. Her baby was all right. Justin was here. Everything was going to be okay. She could feel it.
She dozed for a while. Then the door opened, and Justin walked in. She almost wept, her heart fluttering with relief. Mark and Iain followed, along with Hilary and Jane. Even Dane came. And her mother was there too. The only noticeable absence was Salazar.
Justin settled next to Vanessa and held her hand. Fatigue lined his face, but his eyes were warm. “I thought the nurse was mistaken when she said you were awake.”
She smiled, linking her fingers with her husband’s. “Nope. Awake and totally fine now.”
“Oh, thank god.” Ceinlys burst into tears.
“Mom, you’re going to cry now?” Mark said weakly, while Iain handed her a handkerchief.
Hilary and Jane turned to Vanessa. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”
“You could look worse,” Dane said, which Vanessa took as equivalent to her mother’s reaction.
“I want to go home,” Vanessa said. “Now. The nurse said I’m fine.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Justin said, kissing her forehead. “Whatever you want.”
* * *
Justin was somehow able to get her discharged so fast that they were on their way home within forty minutes. He was quiet as he drove; she held his hand, wanting the reassurance of physical contact.
He helped her get out and walk from the car. She gasped when she finally noticed her reflection in the mirror-shiny elevator door. “I look like a boxer. A boxer who just lost.”
Justin squeezed her hand. “No, you won. You survived. Besides, you still look gorgeous.”
“You are such a liar.”
She yelped when he swept her off her feet and carried her over the threshold. “Isn’t it a bit too late for this?” she said with a laugh.
“It’s never too late. Where do you want to go?” he asked, turning on the light.
“I want to sit on the couch. I’m tired of lying down.”
“Okay, but only for a bit,” he said. “You need to rest.”
She nodded. “Okay. Half an hour then.”
Her legs felt rubbery, and her knees had started aching. She’d probably banged them against something in the accident. She didn’t remember much of it.