Lord Have Mercy (Southern Gentleman 2)

“You two,” Chief Donaldson barked. “Come with me.”

I stood up so fast my head spun.

“Did you find anything out?” I rushed out the moment I was standing next to him at the nurses’ station.

“Yes and no.” He pointed at the nurse who was watching us with concern. “She’ll explain.”

I turned to the nurse and waited, my belly turning somersaults as I waited.

“He’s out of surgery as of about a minute and a half ago,” she started. “They’re putting him in a recovery room. Once they validate his status, they’ll either move him to ICU—which they think is where he’ll go—or to a step-down unit that’s just one below the ICU. One that means that he’s stable enough to be there. But none of that will be decided for another hour at least.”

I swallowed hard.

“Is he…did he…will he…”

“The doctor is coming out as soon as he’s cleaned up and will talk to you,” she said. “Normally the doctor explains it to you…” She looked at the Chief. “But since you have the right credentials...”

I smiled for the first time in a while. “Thank you.”

She shrugged. “I know you have questions. That’s why I don’t usually hand out any information.”

With that, she dismissed us and went back to her work.

I turned to Chief Donaldson and saw Nivea standing almost directly beside me.

“Is there a reason that you’re over here?” I blurted.

Nivea looked offended. “I’m here because I’m worried about Flint.”

I ground my teeth together. “How about you go away and leave me and Carmichael in peace so we can talk to the Chief without you breathing down our necks?”

I was getting angry.

Very, very angry.

I’d been angry since the moment she walked in the door, but I’d been trying to control it.

But she was making it a lot more difficult than it needed to be.

“How about I walk you down to your car?” Ezra suggested.

I looked at him over my shoulder and saw him trying hard not to smile.

“I didn’t drive,” Nivea said. “Carver dropped me off. Plus, I want to wait and make sure that Flint’s okay. Possibly go see him.”

I was already shaking my head, my hands curling into fists at my sides.

“That’s a big fat negative,” I said through clenched teeth.

“What? Why?” Nivea asked.

Was she serious?

I turned to stare at Carmichael to see the same look of horror on her face.

“You’re not getting in to see my brother,” Carmichael promised. “Only family is allowed in right now.”

“Then Camryn can’t go,” Nivea snapped.

“Actually,” Chief Donaldson said. “I heard him call Camryn his fiancée. So…technically they’re nearly family. About as family as you can get, really. And I can give you a ride home if you need one. Or to the closest motel.”

“Carver is on his way back,” she shook her head. “He wasn’t feeling well. He has a headache. He had to get stitches today and had to run by the drugstore for some ibuprofen. Are you sure I won’t be able to see him? Is that a hospital rule? Only family?”

I turned around and tried to get control of myself, making eye contact with the nurse who was once again paying attention to us and not the paperwork in front of her.

She made eye contact with me and gestured to something to my right.

A door.

“Go,” she mouthed.

I swallowed hard, grabbed hold of Carmichael’s hand, and headed toward it.

Carmichael, on the verge of losing it herself, followed behind like the dutiful woman that she was, and didn’t stop to question why until the door closed behind us.

“Um,” she hesitated. “Where does this take us?”

I had no idea and told her as much moments later.

“It’s a private lounge area,” the nurse said. “You can sit here until the doctor arrives. I’ll point him in the right direction.” She paused. “Beautiful dog. I bought a German Shepherd not too long ago, but he’s long-haired.”

I smiled. “I love long-haired German Shepherds. They’re so pretty.”

Dooley was an all black German Shepherd with gold eyes.

He looked more wolf than any dog I’d ever seen before.

“I’ll try to find a way to get rid of the nuisance,” the nurse said.

Then she was gone.

It felt like hours, but was just fifteen long minutes, until the doctor arrived.

He looked tired, but happy, and I felt something inside of my chest—something that hadn’t felt like it was working—start to beat once again.

“The fiancée and the sister of Mr. Flint Stone?”

There was a long, palpable pause before both Carmichael and I started to giggle.

It was irrational, and we were both likely losing it, but it was needed.

“Yes,” I wiped my eyes free of tears. “That’s us. I’m soon-to-be Mrs. Flint Stone.”

The doctor’s lips twitched.

“I don’t know what my mother and father were thinking,” Carmichael giggled. “Oh God. Is he all right?”

The doctor nodded once.

“He is,” he confirmed. “As of about twenty minutes ago, he has exceeded expectations.” He paused, looking from Carmichael to me. “He’s in good shape…considering.”