Worth the Risk (Worth It 2)

“Tessa considers you her brother. If you’re worried, I’m worried. And if I’m worried, she’s worried. She’ll want to do this. For me and for you.” Alex pointed at him. “Write down what you know, and I’ll call Tessa. You can trust her. Together, we’ll make something happen. We’ll find Gracie for you.”

Hunter scribbled everything he could remember on a notepad, then tore off the piece of paper and handed it to Alex. “Thank you,” he said solemnly. “This means a lot. Tell Tessa I said thanks too.”

“You’re welcome.” Alex stared at him for a moment, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching the lined, yellow piece of paper. “You can say whatever you want about not knowing how you feel about her, but I think you know. Deep down inside, you know what she means to you.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Hunter offered a curt nod, keeping his head down. Emotions threatened to flood him, and he didn’t want to start blubbering in front of his brother. He’d feel like a little kid all over again. “I appreciate it.”

“And when we do find her—and we will—you need to tell her how you feel. Confront her with it. Make her listen to what you have to say even if she says she doesn’t want to. Don’t let her get away from you. I made that mistake once and nearly lost everything.” His voice was grim; no doubt his brother remembered everything that had happened between him and Tessa. How she’d moved away and hid from him for a year. Alex had missed out on the opportunity to see the birth of his daughter because of it.

Now he rarely let his wife or daughter out of his sight. Not that Hunter could blame him. Once he found Gracie, he’d have a hard time ever letting her leave his side.

Alex’s words stuck with Hunter long after he slipped out of his office. Hunter appreciated his brother’s help, how easy it had been for Alex to offer so quick, to ask Tessa’s help in the search for Gracie as well. But he was still scared. Worried sick over where she could be.

She might be out there somewhere all alone. Hurt. Damaged beyond repair…

Hunter pressed his hands to his eyes and shook his head once. No, he couldn’t think like that. Fuck that. Now more than ever, he needed to be strong. He needed to do right by her.

He needed to find Gracie.

She heard the voices first. Hushed and low, they murmured as they stood close to the by, talking about her. Many times, she’d heard her name mentioned. It could’ve been over the span of a few hours, a few days. She’d lost all track of time. Had no idea what day it was.

Miss Hayes is still unconscious but she’s mildly responsive.

She’s suffered blunt force trauma to her head. Her left wrist is broken.

The patient is still suffering from minor internal bleeding. Surgery is recommended at this time.

Those last words scared her. Internal bleeding? She needed surgery? It was as if they spoke of someone else. Despite hearing her name mentioned in their endless stream of conversation, she found it hard to believe they were actually talking about her.

Something bad had happened, but she couldn’t remember much. And when she tried, her head hurt so much, she gave up. Why put herself through the torture all over again? It was best to just…be.

She knew for sure she was in the hospital. Was it the same one that her grandma was in? Where was she? When could she see her?

Gracie could hardly move. Her entire body felt heavy, and she tried to open her eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. As if boulders sat atop each eyelid, pressing down with an impossible weight. She flexed her fingers the slightest bit, straightened them as best she could, and her right hand hurt more than her left. She felt weighted down, and she tried to relax. Let her mind float.

“Her grandmother is on the second floor, recent heart attack victim.” The woman’s voice was grim. “We’re keeping watch on her. She’s very upset.”

Ah, the second floor. That’s where her grandma was. Once she woke up, she was going to see her.

“She demanded that she stay in the same room as her granddaughter, but we told her she was in ICU, so that wasn’t possible,” said the other nurse. “It’s so sad.”

Intensive Care Unit—that was bad. That’s where they put people who were in serious, life-threatening conditions. She didn’t go to hospitals much. More she like avoided them as much as possible, but she knew what that meant.

And they talked about her like she was already dead. Like she didn’t have a chance. Why would they talk like that? Whatever happened couldn’t have been that bad.

How she wished she could remember…

She woke again. A different time, most likely night, since the room was dark and the sounds were minimal. Only the beeps and whispers of the various machines hooked up to her could be heard. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she tried to remember. The images came fragmented and so slow.

Gracie drove in the relentless rain, the traffic picking up with every hour of daylight that came. Glancing at her phone, realizing she’d drifted into the other lane. The roads slick with rain, the large truck sideswiped the tail end of her car. She’d overcorrected, punched the brakes too hard, everything they instruct a driver not to do in driver’s educati

on, she had done like an idiot. The unfamiliar car had slipped over an embankment, the airbag had deployed and then she recalled…nothing.

Pain suffused her entire body, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm her suddenly racing heart. The machine’s beeping picked up, kept time with the pounding of her heartbeat, and the sound agitated her, her head aching.

Stay calm, the fading voice whispered inside her head. It’s over. You’ll be taken care of soon.

Someone had said that to her. A paramedic or a police officer, she couldn’t remember which. The words soothed her now, helped her relax. Helped her remember more.