Page 71 of Biker's Babygirl

But it has to be over. And I’m the only one who can make it be over. Without me, he has no bargaining chip, and the officer has no reason not to shoot.I act before I can lose my nerve. I press myself as hard and quickly as I can into the knife.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Duke

“Duke, you need to get some rest.”

I don’t even bother looking up. It’s Ellie’s voice, and she’s been saying the same thing over and over for four days straight.

“Come on,” she cajoles. “She’s not going to wake up if you go home for a nap.”

“You don’t know that,” I answer woodenly. I love Ellie like a sister, I do, and I’m grateful she is trying to take care of me. But I’m tired of answering the same statement. If anyone thinks I’m leaving Ginny when I haven’t all this time, they’re crazy.

Ellie must know it, too, because the next thing I hear are her footsteps getting fainter and fainter as she walks away.

It will be a few hours before my brother or Elvis comes. The three of them have been moving through the hospital on shift ever since Ginny was brought here. They talk to her, they bring me food and clothes, they keep me company.

I appreciate them. I do. But what I want more than anything is just for Ginny to open her eyes. Just for her to be okay.

“You scared me, babygirl,” I tell her, running the pad of my palm across the back of her hand. I’ve told her this story half adozen times by now, but once more won’t hurt. “When Officer Carmichael told us what had happened… told us you were here… I think I understand, Ginny. I think I understand why you thought you had to leave.”

It still hurts me to think about. It’s a physical ache in my chest that my Little felt she needed to leave to keepmesafe.

“I’m not saying it’s okay, mind. You’re still in trouble, babygirl. When you get out of this coma and get better, when you’ve gotten some rest, we’re going to have a good, long talk about what I expect from you in the future.”

I’ve said it over and over again. I’m not really sure whether I think she can hear me or not, but pretending she can helps me. It makes me believe that those things might actually happen.

All of a sudden, I hear a moan. My eyes lock onto Ginny. “Was that you, babygirl?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I hold my breath, afraid that if I keep talking, I’ll miss another chance to hear her. Afraid I already have.

Please, God. Please. Please. If anyone is up there listening…

But before I can even know what else to pray, I hear it again. Louder, longer this time. I’m pressing the call button even as I’m stroking the side of her face. And when Ginny opens her eyes—those beautiful, green eyes—I’m crying I’m so happy.

“Lucas,” she mutters.

“I’m right here, Ginny. It’s me—it’s Duke.” I grip her hand and squeeze for all I’m worth.

Her eyes land on me, and I watch as they focus and the confusion swirling in them turns to panic. “Lucas,” she says again.

“It’s okay, Ginny. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

Her brow furrows and her lip quivers. “Duke… I’m so sorry.”

I kneel beside her and bring her hand to my lips, placing the gentlest of kisses there. “Don’t be sorry, Ginny. You’re okay. I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted.”

EPILOGUE

Six MonthsLater

“You’re going to be okay,” Duke says as he bandages the little boy’s arm. “Trust me.”

I watch, smitten as he gently tends to the child that looks to be no older than eight. He is an exceptionally good doctor in every way, including a bedside manner that quickly turns tears into giggles. It isn’t long before he has the little boy chuckling as he shows him how to use a stethoscope. It is far from the first time I’ve seen him work his medical magic, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop being amazed by him.

In the months following Lucas’s arrest, Duke still hasn’t felt comfortable with me being on my own, and truth be told, I don’t want to be. So, he insists I come along whenever he leaves the house which means also accompanying him on house calls. At first, I just watched, but after several weeks he started giving me stuff to do.

I went from holding his bag to handing him supplies and he liked to tease that one day I’d decide to get my own medical license.

“I don’t want to go to med school! By the time I got out, I’d be thirty!” I’d wrinkled my nose in protest.

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