Page 270 of Saving Her

I’m trying. But everything is heavy. My head. My hands. My feet.

“Focus,” she pleads. “Look at me.”

Decker comes up beside her, his frame no more than a sickening blur. “How bad is your head?”

I huff out a laugh, my sardonic humor only making the sway worse. “It’s nothin’.” My words are slurred, my tongue thick.

“Come on.” Decker limps close, sliding an arm around my back. “We’ll get you to the car.”

He’s got no hope. Even without a bullet in his leg he wouldn’t be able to budge me. And it sure as shit doesn’t help when my face starts diving for the floor.

It’s a smooth glide, like I’m flying in slow motion, gentle and welcoming against the snatch of Decker’s hands as he fails to hold on to me.

Penny’s cry fills my ears and I want to tell her it’s okay. I want to tell her so many things. But my face hits the floor and my world ends.

34

Penny

I stareat Luca on the hospital gurney, his bulky body dwarfing the bedframe. He’s still. Almost lifeless. And after hours spent sitting here in silence I can’t bear the sight, yet I refuse to look away.

His face is battered. The bruise from my brother mars his cheek and the fight with Robert is evident from the swelling and scratches everywhere else.

But the internal injuries make my stomach churn in fear.

“He’ll wake soon.” A woman speaks from behind me. “I promise.”

I glance over my shoulder at the nurse standing in the doorway and wish I had her optimism. I want Luca to recover more than anything. I want him to wake without complications.

I need him to still be mine even though he’s been battling a bleed on the brain, probably since Greece, the severity of his injury having the ability to alter his decision-making.

“He’s a tough cookie,” she continues. “How long ago did you say he sustained the initial impact to his head?”

I hesitate, unsure what I told her earlier. “A few weeks, I guess.”

When Sebastian dropped us off outside the ER, he told me to keep my mouth shut. And I have, to an extent. As far as the hospital staff are concerned, we had a car accident. The only complication came when their scans outlined evidence of a brain injury sustained prior to tonight.

“As far as subdural hematomas go, his is relatively minor.”

“But the doctor said it could have caused personality changes, right? His decisions over the past few weeks might not have been his own.”

She shrugs. “It’s possible. Why? Had he been acting irrational or unlike himself?”

That’s the thing—I don’t know.

I’d barely spent a few moments with him before he risked his life to gain the initial head injury. Everything we shared after could’ve been a side effect.

“I’m not sure.” I wrap my arms around my middle, holding myself tight. “Maybe.”

She steps into the room, her eyes kind as they trek over me. “And how are you feeling? I’d still like to take a look at your injuries whenever you’re willing.”

“I’m fine.” I drag my jacket sleeves farther down my hands, not wanting her prying eyes to notice the blood or rope burns. “The impact with the airbag was the worst of it.”

“Those can be a bitch.” She smiles, the building silence uncomfortable for long moments before she inches back toward the hall. “Please trust me when I say there’s no need to worry about him. He’s a lucky man.”

“She doesn’t know the half of it.” The graveled murmur from the bed stops my heart.

I keep staring at the nurse, as those words repeat in my ears. I don’t drag my attention from her until she glances at the bed, her smile widening.

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