He wasn’t about to live in fear anymore. And he wasn’t about to live without Amanda. So he pulled a chair up beside the bed, lifted her hand in his, and settled in to wait until she came to.
* * *
Amanda woke up, and the first thing she noticed was a bright light overhead. She blinked and immediate memories came flooding back
. The hot summer air, the sidewalk outside the restaurant, the sound of a gunshot, and Brad’s blood. So much blood.
She struggled to sit up, intending to look for him, but dizziness assaulted her, and she fell back against the uncomfortable bed.
“Easy.” A strong hand came to rest on her shoulder.
“Decklan?” She turned toward him, surprised to see him here, and wondered if she was hallucinating.
“I need to let the nurse know you’re awake.” He squeezed her hand and started to rise.
“Wait. How’s Brad? Is he…” She couldn’t get the last image of him out of her head and swallowed over a sob.
“He’s going to be fine,” Decklan said in a soothing voice. “And you need to stay calm or that nurse is going to give you another sedative.”
She swallowed hard, her mouth and throat dry. “I lost it. The ambulance left with Brad. His mom went with him. The senator took me with him to the hospital. We got here at the same time as the police. They wanted answers. I looked down at my hands, and there was blood everywhere. No one would tell me how Brad was, and I got hysterical.” She ducked her head in embarrassment.
“A form of post-traumatic stress.” A nurse with black hair pulled back, who looked to be in her mid-fifties, walked over to her. “I heard voices. You’re awake, which is good. Your friend here is right. Stay calm. You don’t want us to have to sedate you again.”
“Okay.”
The woman took Amanda’s blood pressure and temperature while Decklan hovered. “All normal.” She smiled. “I’ll bring you something to drink, and you should be out of here soon. But the police have been waiting to talk to you.” The nurse, all brisk efficiency, strode out of the room.
“Do they know who … shot Brad?” she stumbled over the words as she asked Decklan.
He met her gaze and shook his head. “Frankly I had to sneak in here to see you. I wasn’t about to risk being thrown out by wandering around out there.”
“Luckily for you, I’m braver than he is,” Max said, pushing back the curtain and walking in. “I’ve been so busy making myself useful bringing people food and drinks from the cafeteria, no one thought to ask who I was or throw me out. I’ve got as much of the story as I could overhear from listening in on the senator’s family.”
Amanda shook her head and laughed. She glanced at Decklan to see his lips turned upward in an almost-grin. Even he found his friend amusing.
As much as she wanted to know why Decklan was here and what it really meant, she was desperate for information about the shooting too. “Tell me what you know,” she said to Max.
He braced a hand on the rail at the end of the bed. “From what I can gather, and it isn’t much, they have a guy in custody. They also picked up the senator’s campaign manager for questioning. No one’s saying why.”
Amanda shivered. “He always scared me.”
Decklan ran his fingers back and forth over her hand. She wondered if he realized he was doing it or just how soothing she found his touch. It was driving her crazy, not knowing what had brought him here—or if he planned to stay.
“We’ll know more when the cops talk to the press or release a statement,” Decklan reassured her.
Max nodded. “And now that I know you’re okay, I’ll leave you two alone. Make the most of the time you’ve got, because the cops will come in to question you any minute.” He shot Decklan a pointed glance, then stepped over to Amanda and kissed her cheek. “Let him take care of you, doll.”
Max straightened and walked out, leaving Decklan and Amanda alone.
NINETEEN
Decklan never got the chance to talk to Amanda. As soon as Max left, the cops came in to take her statement. Knowing her story was necessary and he wouldn’t be getting her alone unless she spoke to the police, he resigned himself to waiting. Though the officer in charge asked him to step outside, Amanda insisted he not leave her alone—not that he’d had any intention of walking away. Not ever again.
She answered question after question, her voice trembling, her face pale as she recounted the event, until she looked ready to pass out. Decklan ground his teeth through the entire telling, her fear and panic becoming his as he realized how close she’d been to the bullet that had hit her friend. And all he could do was place a hand on her shoulder and listen. He’d never felt more useless in his life.
Finally, the cop had enough. He told her he’d be in touch if he had more questions. She was drained and exhausted, and the last thing Decklan wanted was to force her to have another emotional conversation with him.
She had to go through another check of her vitals and a talk with a doctor and a social worker about post-traumatic stress and what to expect once she left the hospital. Decklan doubted she processed anything they told her, but he did. And he intended to make sure she knew she wasn’t on her own in dealing with this. Anything that affected her affected him, and he would make sure she knew it.