"If she doesn't--"
Mav slams his palm against the wheel and bellows a string of curses. "Shut the fuck up. You've got another ten minutes before we get to the hospital, and I fuckin' swear, you better fix your shit by then. You're doin' her no good already placin' her in the ground when she fought to make sure you never gotta know what it's like to not have her. You fight, knowin' she's doin' the same."
I blow my air out and lean against the seat, closing my eyes and doing my best to bat the fear back. The vision of Caroline as I saw her last makes it hard, but finally we pull up to the emergency room entrance, and I'm out and rushing into the brightly lit waiting room.
"Caroline Davis. My wife. She was brought in by ambulance."
The young nurse nods before typing something into the computer in front of her. "She's here, but I don't have any news right now. If you have a seat, someone will be out as soon as they can tell you more."
"I need to be with her," I tell her frantically.
She gives me a sad smile and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, sir. It's hospital policy."
"Come on," Mav says, taking my shoulder and turning me to walk over to one of the empty seats.
And we wait.
We wait and I pretend my world isn't ending.
28
CAROLINE
"Wake Up Loving You" by Old Dominion
The heavy weight against my hand is the first thing I notice.
The warmth from that weight, the second.
With the cobwebs in my mind, though, it's hard to register much of anything else.
Slowly, the rest of my body starts to connect back with my groggy mind, the weight on my hand forgotten when the burning sensation in my leg comes into focus. I groan and try to open my eyes.
"Linney," I hear whispered, but the only thing I can focus on is the pain in my leg, which is getting more and more intense with each passing second. "Darlin', please calm down."
"Hurts," I moan, my voice gravelly and thick, like I just woke up.
"God, baby."
"Carrie, stop fightin'. You're safe. Calm down before you hurt yourself more."
At Luke's words, my body stops moving. I hadn't even realized I had been thrashing against the bed. My eyes are still not opening, but more around me registers now. I hear sniffles, some farther from me than others and some right next to me. I hear the beeping of machines and soft, pleading whispers at my side.
Clayton.
Knowing he needs me just as much as I need to see him is what helps me to push the cobwebs away and take control of my mind and body. It takes a couple minutes, but I finally pry my eyes open. I blink frantically as my pupils adjust to the dim light. Luke is standing at the end of my bed, his sister in his arms while she cries against his chest. I turn my head when I see movement to see Maverick in much the same position with Leighton, standing under the TV mounted in the corner. Next to them, Tate is standing behind Quinn, his arms around her shoulders as she wipes her eyes.
Then, when I look away from them, my handsome husband fills my vision.
His hair is wild, like he's done nothing but run his hands through it. The stubble that had been on his jaw when we went to bed is even darker now. And his red, swollen eyes look like they're glowing as he openly and silently cries. Tears spill over his lashes and fall down his face before landing against our joined hands resting next to my side. He doesn't look away, doesn't dry his tears. He just stares at me, breathing heavily, like he can't believe I'm right in front of him.
"Hey," I whisper.
His eyes shudder closed and he sucks in a jerky breath before dropping his forehead against my belly. He shakes his head as his strong shoulders hitch as he loses whatever control he'd been holding tightly to.
"Clayton," I plead, my heart breaking over seeing my strong husband falling to bits in front of me. "Please, honey."
He mumbles something against me, the words muffled. I look around the room, frantic to get help in easing his pain, but I see not one dry eye as they witness the strongest man we all know unable to keep himself together any longer.
"Cl-Clayton," I wobble out, my chin quivering and my eyes filling with tears. "You're breaking my heart." My chest literally feels like someone is pulling my heart from my body with each second that passes.
His body shudders and I hear him suck in a breath. "I thought I lost you," he admits, lifting his head and looking down at our hands. "I saw you there, blood everywhere, and knew if I lost you I'd be losin' myself too."
"I'm okay," I gasp, needing him to stop. "I'm here."
"There's nothin' for me on this earth without you by my side," he continues. "She almost took you from me."
I choke on a loud cry as it bursts from my throat. I gasp for air, but I can't stop wailing. Through my tears, I see Clayton jump to his feet, and then his hands push under my shoulders as he pulls my upper body off the hospital bed and into his arms. I wrap my arms around him the best I can with the IV and cling to him, soaking his shirt while he drenches my gown, the early-morning events coming to a head as we hold each other.
"I'm so sorry," he mumbles against my neck after we both calm.
"For what?" I question, opening my eyes. The first person I focus on is Maverick. His jaw clenches and his eyes are just as wet as I imagine mine are.
"I should have done better at protecting you."
I gasp, pull back, and stare up into his tortured eyes. "This is not your fault. No one, not even you, could have seen this comin'. You did protect me, honey. All I heard in my mind was your voice remindin' me to fight. Your strength filled me up without you even bein' there. I remembered you tellin' me where you keep your firearms, and that gave me a chance. You might not have been there, but it was you nonetheless who protected and saved me."
"It's because of me you were in this situation to begin with, Caroline."
I frown. "No, it was because of your crazy ex. Don't you dare take this on, Clayton Davis."
"Linney," he breathes.
"Don't you Linney me. We're both victims here. And she does not get to win. Not now. Not ever."
I see my words take root, the despair in his eyes lifting. His forehead comes to mine and he rocks against me, shaking his head. "I'm never gonna let you out of my sight."
"I'm thinkin' that's not goin' to be a hardship, honey."
"I've never been more scared in my life. If she wasn't already dead, I'd fuckin' kill her myself."
Knowing I'm the reason Jess is dead doesn't even faze me. It was either her or me, and I'm not about to feel guilty that I battled for the beautiful life I've earned. Maybe one day I'll feel differently, but I doubt it.
"Why am I here?"
He exhales, his eyes looking pained again. I hate that, but I know it's unavoidable if I want to know what happened.
"When she . . ." He sucks in a deep breath. "When she shot you, the bullet lodged deep enough in your thigh that you lost a good bit of blood. They stitched you up, and the doctor assures me that, aside from the scar, you'll have no lastin' issues. But the bump on your head is what's got you here for the night. When you passed out, you hit the edge of the toilet on your way down."
"And the rest?"
"That's it, darlin'. Stitches, fluids in your IV, and monitorin' you overnight, and they assure me you'll make a full recovery."
I search his eyes, feeling my brows pull in. "What aren't you tellin' me?"
He searches my eyes before dropping his head and shaking it slowly. "John was part of this."
My shoulders droop and the tension I felt in them drains away. "I know."
"What do you mean you know?"
"Jess admitted it." I look down at my lap. "I know he's dead. And I know she did it too. I'm not upset he's gone, but knowin' that, in his way, he tried to stop her doesn't exactly make me feel good that he died doin' so."
"And him? What did he say to you?"
Pulling my head back, I look into his face, confused by his question. "Pardon?"
> "I forgot about it until I stood over his body and told Sheriff Holden that John approached you yesterday afternoon."
"Oh, that," I whisper, nodding. "I wasn't keepin' it from you, Clayton. Things were just, well . . . He was the last thing on my mind when I was gettin' ready to marry you. I only had room for happiness and it slipped my mind."
"I'm not mad, darlin'. I just want to know what he had to say. Piece this shit together the best I can."
I search my mind, replaying everything I can remember. After what Jess said, some of John's confusing words make more sense.
"He tried to stop her," I finally say after the silence stretches on. "It didn't make any sense when he came up to me in town, but after what she said about him, I get what he'd been tryin' warn me about."
"Explain that to me."
I sigh and recount everything from when I was starting to cook, to when Jess broke the door, and every word she had to say before what happened in the office. I know it costs him to sit here and not react. The tic in his jaw muscle and the twitching of his left eye betray the calm he's trying to project. Once I tell him everything, I take a gulp of air and lean back, instantly exhausted.
"I don't give a shit that he thought he was protectin' you. He should've gone straight to the fuckin' cops when he realized what Jess was up to instead of helpin' her with some misguided belief that he was doin' it to keep you safe. There's no fuckin' gray line, Linney. You could have died tonight, regardless of what he tried to do leadin' up to it. You could have been lost to me forever, and I'll take your life over theirs any day."
"I wasn't justifyin' his actions. I agree with you, but even though he failed, he tried."
"And failed. All that matters is that he failed."
I nod. "Our ugly isn't goin' to touch us anymore."
He closes his eyes and his nostrils flare while he composes himself. "Nothin' but good's gonna touch us, darlin'."
I nod, resting my head against the pillow with a yawn. Clayton leans over me and presses his mouth to my forehead. I blink up at him and smile. "A honeymoon might be a good idea now," I slur, exhaustion pulling me under.
"Seein' that we're gonna be mighty busy in the next handful of months, I think you're right."
I hear some feminine giggles but give in to the tiredness and fall asleep, knowing that I'm safe, Clayton's safe, and there isn't anyone else out there who can hurt us.
29
CAROLINE
"My Best Friend" by Tim McGraw
"What?!" I screech, looking at the doctor like he's lost his mind.
I woke up ten minutes ago when the doctor and the evil nurse who'd been torturing me all night clattered into the room pulling some equipment. Okay, so she hadn't been torturing me, but each time she came in to wake me up, it sure did feel that way. Logically, I know head injuries aren't anything to take lightly, but I'm exhausted and sleep is the only thing I want.
"Pardon?" the doctor questions, looking up from the chart in his hand.
"I get that I bumped my head and all, Doc, and I'm not tryin' to tell you how to do your job, but maybe we should be checkin' my noggin . . . or better yet, yours, because nothin' you just said makes sense."
Clayton's manly chuckles tickle my fingers and I glance away from the doctor to see my husband hiding his smile behind the hand he's been holding all night.
"Mrs. Davis," the doctor says, and I look over from Clayton to narrow my eyes at him. "Tracey's monitored you all night and we have no reason to believe that further testing is needed regarding your injuries. I've given your husband your care instructions and he knows what to look for in the event that more medical treatment is needed--which I'm confident won't be the case."
"So you're just goin' to let me leave without makin' sure the head you've kept me here all night for is fine?"
Closing the chart, the doctor crosses his arms over his chest and smirks. I'm not sure what he thinks is so dadgum funny. At this point, I wouldn't mind knocking him over the head. When his grin grows and two dimples appear, I make a mental note to find out if he's single. He's young, clearly successful, and handsome--though not as handsome as Clayton. Perfect for Lucy, even if I want to shake some sense into the crazy-talking man.
"We wouldn't let you leave if there was even a slight concern, Mrs. Davis."
"Well, clearly there's somethin' wrong with my head, Doc. I'm hallucinating, hearin' things or somethin'! Either that or I'm dreamin', because there isn't any other reason you'd be standin' there with Nurse Pokes-for-fun, tellin' me I'm pregnant." I take a deep breath, my eyes widening. "Oh, my God! I'm losin' my mind, aren't I? The fall knocked somethin' loose and you're about to ship me off to a home!" I turn my head to look at Clayton. "I don't want to go to a home!"
His shoulders shake as he laughs at me. "Linney, love, no one is puttin' you in a home."
I narrow my eyes at him. "Well, maybe we need to put him in one, then," I snap, pointing at the doctor.
"Maybe it'll be easier if we show you, hmm?" the evil, poking-me-all-night nurse says in a sugary sweet voice.
"Show me what?"
"Your baby." She smiles and I stare, my mouth hanging wide-open.
I stop arguing and, with a huff, lie back on the bed. There's no way I'm pregnant. I haven't missed my period. Aside from the whole being-shot-and-passing-out thing, I feel fine. I haven't been sick, tired, or sore.
Clayton sits up straighter when the nurse holds up some long, ET-looking finger and starts covering it with a condom. I frown when the doctor starts moving the sheets from my legs, taking the condom finger from the nurse. My hand is squeezed at the same time the doctor starts explaining to me that he's about to insert the finger into my vagina.
"Whoa!" I swat at his hands when he moves my gown. "You can keep your kinky alien probe away from me, mister."
"Mrs. Davis." He sighs, his lips twitching as he obviously tries to keep from laughing at me. I'd like to see him be all calm and doctorly when someone wants to stick a long, skinny, condom-covered piece of plastic inside of him! "This is the most accurate way to determine how far along you are. Your numbers are high, but that could mean one of quite a few things. My guess is you're somewhere between six to nine weeks along, which means this is the only form of ultrasound we can actually see the baby with."
"This is such a waste of time. I haven't even missed a period!" I pull the hem of my gown down, covering my naked sex. If I could reach the blanket, I'd put that back over me as well.
"Some women, though few, experience their cycle throughout their pregnancies. I know this might be a surprise, but I assure you there's no way we aren't going to see a baby."
"Linney," Clayton huskily whispers.
I stop glaring at the doctor and look at my husband. His stubble has grown out even more, the black shadow highlighting his strong jaw. The lips that can drive me wild curve, a small and happy smile across his mouth. His dark-as-night hair is still a mess, but instead of seeing the raw pain that had been in his green eyes last night, all I see is a whole lot of love and even more . . . hopefulness.
"Had a little more time for this to sink in, darlin', and I get you not believin' the good doctor, but please, baby . . . let them show us what our love created."
The wind in my sails evaporates instantly and I study my husband, the emotions written all over him infectious as a flicker of hope starts to ignite inside of me.
With a nod to the doctor, I follow his instructions as he embarrassingly bares me, then inserts his ET finger into my sex. It's uncomfortable as hell, but I keep my eyes on Clayton and hold my breath. I watch his face as his eyes go wide and stay trained on the monitor. Tiny wrinkles form between his eyebrows as he concentrates.
Then his hand convulses in mine and his whole face goes soft. I've seen what my husband looks like with love shining bright, but this . . . this is something I've never seen on his face. It's as if his heart jumped from his chest to beat right behind his blazing bright eyes. Wonder, love, and pure elation beam out
at me. My own heart starts to pick up speed when I realize there's only one thing that could make him look as if the world is being handed to him.
"Amazin'," he says softly.
I feel lightheaded as my head rolls against the pillow to look in the direction of Clayton's stare. I see the doctor's face first. He arches a brow and smiles smugly. The nurse is beaming, but I let my attention pass over her and fall on the monitor.
"Oh my God," I gasp, my eyes burning as a beautiful kind of bliss slams into me.
The doctor reaches out and presses some buttons, then the quiet room fills with what can only be described as the sound of muffled hooves racing.
"What is that?" I whisper, not looking away from the monitor, my grip on Clayton's hand tightening.
"That, Mrs. Davis, is your baby's heartbeat."
"Oh," I breathe.
"Strong and healthy. You're measuring right at eight weeks, and everything with the baby looks just fine."
"But . . . are you sure? Nothin' is wrong after last night?"
The doctor shakes his head. "Not a thing. The baby is nice and protected in there, Mrs. Davis."
"A baby." I shake my head, smiling so big my cheeks hurt, and blink rapidly to clear the tears even though I know it's fruitless to try. "Honey, a baby!"
"Heard the doc," Clayton says, his voice thick and even deeper than normal.
I look at him, seeing the same things I'm feeling in his eyes. "Can you believe it?"
"It's our beauty, darlin'. 'Course I believe it."
"We're havin' a baby," I cry, the image of him swimming now that my eyes are full of happy tears.
"I'll print some images for y'all and get out of your hair," the doctor mumbles.
I don't pay him any attention, not when my husband is looking at me like I've just given him the greatest gift. We continue to stare at each other, ignoring the other two in the room. I don't even flinch when the doctor pulls the probe free from my body and drapes the sheets back over my legs. I hear one of them mention that the pictures are on the table next to my bed and that they'll be back shortly with my discharge papers, but I don't look away from the blazing green orbs that have me transfixed.
When the door clicks signaling their departure, Clayton pounces. My hand falls from his grip and lands on the mattress with a soft bounce the same second his lips land on my mouth. If I thought our kisses before were magical, I was wrong. He devours me and fills me with so much love that I'm drunk on it. This is the kind of kiss you only experience with the person who holds the other part of your soul. With every swipe of his tongue, I feel like my heart is swelling, every swirl and sweep feeding my very being. His panting breaths against my face fill me with the all-consuming power of his love.