Page 191 of Fixation
She would’ve said it. Here, in front of my peers. But even wounded, she catches herself. My girl protects me by being quiet.
“Shh.” Her pulse beats beneath my thumb. I press it harder to her wrist, counting. “Seventy-three.”
Bennet is on the other side of the gurney, offering me a curt nod.
Then we go past the sliding doors that lead to one of the CT scan rooms.
I would’ve gone in there with her. Would’ve hugged her while they checked her for injuries. All so she wouldn’t be alone.
Can’t. The results. It’d fuck them up.
“She’ll be taken care of.” Bennet has his hand on my shoulder. Fuck his hand. I watch her lying there. Hold my breath. “We have the best of the best here. Why don’t you go outside and wait for us there?”
“No.” My arms hug my chest tighter to keep me from punching him in the throat. “I’m staying here. I’ll be treating her.”
“Anderson—”
“No one else,” I growl, staring at her through the glass. “No one else is better than me. You know that.”
Some people say surgeons’ egos are inflated. That we think too highly of ourselves.
Not me. My ego isn’t involved when it comes to saving Harper.
I was stating a fact. No other surgeon here is as skilled as I am at what I do.
Bennet makes a low sound at the back of his throat. Half-grumble, half-recognition.
More tests. More waiting. I follow her into every room. Holding her. Assisting with moving her around. Picking her up and putting her down. Looking after her. Checking the results of her CT scan.
Clear. Clear. Clear.
No internal bleeding. No broken or cracked bones or cracked ribs. No concussion.
Nevertheless, I still feel on edge. Still look at everyone like they’re the enemy. Like they might take her from me.
We’re being escorted into a private room. It’s agony, this waiting for her blood work to come back. There was no need for it, but I told them to take it anyway.
An hour later, her tests check out.
I breathe easier when I learn she’s not pregnant. Either that, or it doesn’t show in the lab work yet. It’s too soon to tell since her ovulation was less than a week ago.
Whatever it is, it’s fine. We’ll have babies. Many of them.
We’ll start trying again as soon as she’s better.
As soon as the throbbing in my temples subsides. There won’t be an accident or kidnapping then.
I’ll look after her for as long as I live. I’ll never be late again.
She sleeps, resting peacefully on a hospital bed that isn’t the one I have in my basement.
I don’t leave her side. I hold her hand, waiting for her to wake up like she’s done a few times over the last hour.
Each of those times, she’s asked for me.
My woman.
“Anderson.” My name is a whisper.
