Page 70 of Saving Tracey
"Trev!" my little brother shouted, running into the room.
My head snapped up so fucking fast, I almost gave myself whiplash. His enthusiastic face instantly fell when he looked at Tracey, and tears filled his dark eyes. His bottom lip quivered when he looked up at me. "Trev, what's wrong with Trace?" he asked, his voice wobbly, his eyes drawn back to Tracey.
I glared at Dale and Glenda when they entered the room and jumped up from my chair, grabbing Lucas off of his feet and holding him on my hip. "Didn't I fucking tell you two not to let him in here?!" I roared at them, making Lucas jump in my arms. I tightened my arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly. "I didn't want him to fucking see her like this!"
"He got away from us, Trevor," Glenda told me, her tone gentle as she spoke to me.
"Fucking keep him at home,” I snarled at her. "He doesn't need to see her—"
A soft groan came from Tracey's hospital bed, and I thrust Lucas at Dale, rushing back over to her. She whimpered in pain when she tried to move, her eyes blinking open slowly.
"Tracey,” I breathed, gripping her hand, blinking rapidly. I was so fucking stunned that she was awake. The doctor didn’t think she would wake up for another few weeks, if she ever did at all.
She slowly turned her head to look at me. "Trevor . . ." she whispered, the sound of my name barely making it past her dry, chapped lips.
"Get me her fucking doctor,” I barked at Glenda. Dale rushed over to her bed. I ran my fingertips down her face, finding it hard to believe that she was awake and looking at me with those beautiful green eyes again that I had missed so fucking much. "Fuck, baby, I can't believe you're awake," I whispered.
"My back . . ." she said hoarsely, wincing as she did so.
Dale put a glass of water to her lips. "Drink some of this. It will help your sore throat."
She drank the water slowly, finishing the glass off right as her doctor came into the room. "Ah, it's so good to finally see you awake, Tracey." The only surprise at her wakeful state was a slight raise of his eyebrows.
He pulled a metal mallet-looking thing out of his pocket and lifted the blanket off of her feet. She watched him with cautious eyes. I squeezed her hand in reassurance, knowing he was just checking to see if she had feeling in her legs and feet. "Tracey, I'm going to run this along the bottom of your feet. Tell me if you can feel it, okay?"
He ran the metal tool along the bottom of her foot, and she jerked her leg back, instantly wincing in pain when she did. I rubbed soothing circles on her hand as she closed her eyes, breathing shallowly. "Fuck,” she choked out, her grip on my hand tight as she waited for the pain to subside some.
The doctor nodded his head. "Good. I'm sorry if you're ticklish,” he apologized. “I have to do this to make sure you didn't lose feeling in either of your legs due to the gunshot wound being so close to your spine."
She nodded, gripping my hand as he ran it along her other foot. I clamped my hand on her thigh before she could jerk that leg up and hurt her back again. She shot me a grateful smile before she looked back at the doctor. The doctor nodded, a smile tilting his lips. "Good. This is really good, Tracey. It means you're not paralyzed, though it may be a while before you can walk properly seeing as the bullet almost hit your spine. You're going to feel a lot of pain every time you try to walk, move your legs, or use anything that requires using that part of your spine, but you were incredibly lucky, young lady."
She nodded, looking up at me. I sighed at the look on her face. I knew she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to walk again on her own. Leaning down, I kissed her softly, forcing myself not to deepen it. Three weeks without feeling her lips on mine had been way too fucking long.
"I'll work with you every day to help you move and walk again.”
She nodded, giving me a small smile. "Your vitals look really good, Tracey,” the doctor said, bringing our attention back to him. "I want to monitor you one more day, and then, depending on how you're feeling in the morning, we may send you home, alright?"
She nodded in understanding. He left the room, and she patted the bed beside her. "Sit with me?" she asked, her voice still a little hoarse from not being used in so long.
I brought her hand up to my lips, placing kisses along her knuckles. "I want to lay down with you more than anything, baby, but you're hurt, and me getting on the bed isn't going to help your back."
She sighed in frustration, glaring up at the ceiling. I chuckled softly, sitting back down in the chair I had been occupying my entire time being here with her, still grasping her hand in my own. "What is today?" She turned her head toward me, looking at me with her beautiful green eyes.
"It's the twenty-third," I informed her softly. "You've been out for three weeks, baby."
She tightened her hand around mine. "Did he escape?" she whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t hear her.
I clenched my jaw. "He's rotting in fucking hell." She flinched at my tone, and I sighed, running my free hand down my face. "Sorry, baby," I whispered, kissing her hand again. "Just thinking about that bastard makes me pissed."
She shook her head at me, her way of telling me that I didn't need to apologize to her. "What do you mean he's in hell?" she asked softly.
"They had to gun him down," I informed her quietly.
I watched Tracey collapse to the floor, the most painful, horrifying scream I had ever heard in my fucking life rippingfrom her throat. I ran over, ignoring the gunshots as they tried to get the gun out of her dad's hand and detain him.
"Tracey!" I cried, dropping to my knees in front of her.
Fuck, not my baby girl. Not her, God, please.
