Page 38 of Married to a SEAL

“Get some rest,” Ryan said. “I know you probably had a sleepless night as well.”

“I will. Bye.”

Ryan said goodbye, and she set her phone down, filling Alison in on the rest of the conversation. Tears filled her eyes, but this time it was from happiness. Absentmindedly, she placed her hand over her still-flat stomach. Patrick would get to meet his child. He’d come home to her and the kids. If it was possible, she might just burst from happiness.

***

Patrick groggily opened his eyes, his gaze slowly focusing on his surroundings in the hospital room. More white walls. A shade pulled tightly shut. A ton of machines.

It felt like he’d been run over by a truck.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

His gaze slid to the screen next to him monitoring his heartrate. Beneath the steady line were his vitals. An IV needle was taped to his hand, a pulse ox monitor on his finger, and a bag of fluids hanging up beside him. He could almost feel the cool liquid flowing from the IV into his vein, which was an odd sensation.

Gauze and other bandages covered his side, and he gingerly prodded at it, wincing. His ribs ached tremendously, and as he gingerly moved his hand over them, he realized his chest was wrapped with some sort of athletic tape, providing him with extra support.

He took a breath, trying to grasp the extent of his injuries.

Hell of a mission.

He tentatively moved his feet, thankful to see he still had full use of his limbs. Thankful that he had all his limbs. Plenty of men who got blown off their feet like he did ended up losing body parts. He’d been injured, sure, but at least everything was still accounted for.

His gaze slid to the door, where doctors and nurses walked by in the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was awake.

How long had he been out?

He tried sitting up in the hospital bed, grunting in pain. His blood pressure skyrocketed on the monitor, and he eased himself back down, his breath coming out in a whoosh.

That was stupid. Just because he was a Navy SEAL didn’t mean he could bust out of here right after surgery with no problems.

Hell. He’d be lucky to be back on his feet in a week. If that.

He looked down at his side again, assessing.

“You’re awake,” an older nurse said as she walked into the room, clipboard in hand.

“Affirmative,” he said, his voice cracking from not having spoken in so long. He cleared his throat and then his eyes widened. The tubes were no longer down his throat. No wonder it felt so damn raw and swollen. But he was breathing on his own. Recovering.

“Can I have some water?” he asked.

“Absolutely. I’ll have someone bring it in,” she said, typing something on the tablet computer she was holding. She scrolled through the information on the screen, reviewing his chart.

Nothing like the old days when everything was on paper.

His eyes scanned the hospital room again. He was the only patient in here, and it looked like a regular room. Which was a hell of a lot better than being hooked up to a vent in the ICU.

“The doctor will be in to see you shortly. You were medevac’d here to Landstuhl after you were injured yesterday. You were in surgery for six hours while they repaired damage to your internal organs. You also have four broken ribs, which have been bandaged. How are you feeling?”

“Like hell,” Patrick muttered.

The nurse eyed him knowingly. “It’ll be several months before you’re back to active duty. I know most of you guys want to jump right back into the action, but you’ll need time for your body to recover. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your level of pain?”

“If I lie here not moving, maybe a five or six. When I tried to sit up? Another damn story.”

“Don’t try to sit up,” she admonished. “You’ll need assistance getting out of bed for the time being with your ribs bandaged like that. Unfortunately, they take a while to heal because they’re hard to immobilize.”

“Understood,” he ground out.

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