She’d only been in bed for half an hour. The buzzing immediately started up again. She’d missed four calls, and the number flashing on the screen wasn’t one she recognized. Could be kids messing around, but then again—she hit the call button. “Hello?”
“Rusty?” A deep voice echoed down the line.
“Who is this?”
“Law.”
Law? “Why are you calling me in the middle of the damn night?”
“It’s Reid.” There was a pause. “You need to come to the hospital.”
She shoved off the blankets, swung her legs out of bed, and sat up. “What happened?”
“He’s been shot. He’s in rough shape. I don’t know…having you here…I think it could help.”
She was already on her feet, pulling clothes from her closet. “Where are you?”
Law rattled off which hospital they were at and where to find them, then disconnected.
Reid’s been shot.
Law’s words echoed through her head like someone was pounding on a gong, the words getting louder and louder until she wanted to clutch her head in an attempt to stop it.
How? Who? What the hell was going on?
Pulling on a pair of jeans, she yanked a shirt over her head and shoved her feet into a pair of Converse sneakers, then ran out the door. Law had said he was in rough shape. What did that even mean? She started to shake, uncontrollably—what if…
No! Don’t even think it.
Twenty minutes later, Rusty was jogging down a long corridor toward a grim-faced Law. He was leaning against the wall outside one of the rooms, his face lined with worry, his body tense.
“How is he?” She’d managed to hold herself together on the way, but now, seeing the fear on Law’s face, she was close to losing it.
He shook his head. “Don’t know. He just came out of surgery, and they won’t tell me a damned thing.”
The door to Reid’s room opened and a nurse came out, about to walk right by them. Rusty grabbed her arm. “Please. How is he?”
“Are you family?”
“I’m his girlfriend.” The lie slipped past her lips easily, because despite it all, despite everything that had happened, she still loved him. If he came out of this—no, fuck that—when he came out of this, she’d make sure he knew it.
Because, dammit, she’d believed him when he told her that he loved her. She hadn’t wanted to. But God, she’d seen it in his eyes when he’d said the words. She’d been too afraid, too much of a coward to risk her heart, to hear him out, to give him another chance.
“Please, we’re going out of our minds here.”
The nurse offered a small smile and rested her hand on Rusty’s arm. “He’s going to be okay. The bullet missed his main organs, and the surgery went really well. It’s still early, but we think he should make a full recovery.”
Rusty collapsed, literally slumped back, unable to keep her knees locked. Law was there in an instant, the big biker’s arms sliding around her waist to hold her up. Tears sprang to her eyes and started flowing uncontrollably.
He’s going to be okay. I’m not going to lose him.
She kept saying the words over and over in her head, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Law turned her in his arms and his breath hitched, his relief as acute as hers. “Thank fuck,” he whispered.
The nurse started to leave, and Rusty pulled away, calling out to her. “Can I sit with him?”
She glanced down the hall, then at Rusty. “Okay, but just for a little bit. He needs his rest.”
“Are you coming in?” Law shook his head, and she got the feeling he needed a moment on his own.
“I’ll go get us some coffee.” Then he headed off.
Rusty approached the door, heart in her throat, and eased it open. The light was low, but the curtains were open and moonlight spilled in across the white sheets, making them almost glow. Reid lay motionless in his bed, hooked up to several machines, tubes feeding liquids into his veins. His eyes were closed, and those beautiful dark lashes rested on his cheeks. His chest was bare, and a thick white bandage was wrapped around his stomach.
She lifted her hand to her mouth to hold back the sob burning her throat. Oh, God.
Grabbing a chair, she pulled it close, as close as she could, and sat beside him. His hand lay at his side, and she took it in hers, turning it over. Holding it to her mouth, she kissed his big, strong, callused palm and lifted it to her face, drawing in his scent, his warmth. Despite the smell of hospital and disinfectant, his skin smelled the way it always did. Spicy, with a hint of motor oil. It went a long way to calming her. She placed her other hand on his wrist, feeling his pulse strong against her fingers, and watched the steady rise and fall of his chest.
He’s going to be okay. He’s not leaving me.
And she wasn’t leaving his side, not until he opened his eyes, not until she got a chance to tell him what she needed to tell him.
That she loved him.
Sun battered against Rusty’s eyelids, the warmth of it heating her face.
She didn’t open her eyes, couldn’t, not yet. There’d been some complications after Reid’s operation. He’d cracked his head hard when he’d hit the ground, and there’d been some swelling. They’d decided to keep him under for a few days.
The swelling had gone down the day before, but he hadn’t woken up yet. She was terrified. What if he didn’t wake up? What if she never got to look into those pale brown eyes and tell him that she loved him?
So no, she couldn’t open her eyes. She wasn’t ready. Couldn’t bear to look at him lying there, so still. Not yet.
Alex and Piper had stopped by with a change of clothes and some decent food. Not that she could eat anything.
Law had brought Reid’s mother to the hospital that first night, and they’d sat together in this room every day. But right now, she was alone. Carol had left hours ago, had gone home to get some sleep, grab a shower. And Rusty had curled up in the chair by the window, the one right by Reid’s bed, and had tried to catch a few minutes sleep. She’d obviously slept longer than she intended because now it was morning. She couldn’t just lie here, hiding. Reid needed her to be strong, no matter how hard, how painful it was.
Brushing her hair off her face, she dragged her eyes open and turned to his bed.
A pair of pale brown eyes stared back.
She blinked, couldn’t move, could barely breathe—just held his gaze, unable to look away.
“Rusty?”
That rough voice went through her, over her, caressing her. She blinked again, and a hot tear streaked down her face. Still she couldn’t move, throat too tight to speak.
“Baby…don’t cry.” He reached out and took her hand, bringing it to his lips, the same way she had his that first night. His lips were warm and dry. “Come here.”
“You’re awake.”
“Yeah, baby. Now come here.”
“You’re going to be okay.” She started shaking, not realizing until that moment how truly terrified she’d been, scared out of her mind that he might never wake up, that he might have suffered permanent damage. Her teeth started chattering and another tear fell, followed by another.
“Shit.” He tightened his grip on her hand. “Foxy, you gotta come here.” He started to struggle in his bed, trying to get up, and that managed to break through the shock, the paralyzing relief.
Scrambling off the chair, she went to him. The grip he had on her hand moved to her wrist, and he gently tugged her closer. “Get up here.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Now, Foxy. I need to feel you beside me.”
Still shaking, she climbed up beside him as careful as she could, and when she wriggled in close, one of his arms slid around her shoulders, and he pulled her in tight. That’s when she felt it.