Page 116 of Playing With Danger

“Thanks,” I croaked.

I heard a chair scrape against the floor. My biceps got squeezed by the cuff around my arm. Valentine’s big hand engulfed mine.

I was safe.

The rest didn’t matter.

Slowly, the pain started to recede. Then I felt nothing.

Soft voices woke me.

Valentine. Hayden. My mother.

My mother.

I kept my eyes closed to assess my pain. A dull, achy throb all over. From head to toe I hurt but it was bearable. Still, I wasn’t ready to face the room.

“I’m not suggesting we lie, Valentine, but don’t you think she’s been through enough?” my mother asked.

Lie?

“Yes, Lorelai, she’s been through enough,” Valentine gently returned. Gently, not just quietly. What in the world? “But I’m still not withholding the truth.”

There was silence, or at least the voices stopped. I could still hear the low hum of machines.

Then a sniff broke the quiet and my mother’s broken voice replied, “You know her better than I do. Whatever you feel is the right thing to do, we’ll do.”

What in the actual hippopotamus hell was going on? My mother was backing down. Conceding to someone else’s point of view.

I must be dead or dreaming or in a drug-induced alternate universe.

“If you think you have a better way to explain this all to her I’ll listen,” Valentine said.

“No. You’re right.”

That did it. I was dead and having an out-of-body experience. I had to be.

I slowly cracked my eyes open. Through the tiny sliver between my eyelids I saw Hayden sitting next to my bed. A deep frown instead of his normally cheery, carefree smile. His gaze was on me. He knew I was awake but he didn’t move. I opened my eyes wider and took more of him in. The only way to describe the way he was staring at me was miserable.

No, worse—guilt-ridden.

I hated that.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I whispered.

He shook his head.

“It wasn’t, Winslow,” I tried again. “I can’t lose you to her.”

“You’re never going to lose me, Huxley.”

Before I knew it, my mother was standing next to my bed opposite Hayden. Her hand grabbed mine before she gentled her grip and slid our palms together, barely wrapping her hand around mine.

“Are you in pain? Do you need the nurse? What do you need? Ice chips? Blankets?” My mother’s rapid-fire questions made my head spin.

I shifted my head on the pillow and there she was. Not her normal, put-together self, she looked like she hadn’t slept in days. And Valentine… my big, strong Hot Cop stood behind her like a bodyguard. Mine, not hers. I knew if she said one thing to upset me he’d carry her out of the room kicking and screaming.

My protector.

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