Page 104 of Together We Burn
“Is that…” Chris began.
“A bullet!” Nate exclaimed. “Trigger said I could keep it as a souvenir. I’m going to keep it with the knife Aunt Stefy gave me.”
My lips twitched as Chris’s horrified expression turned to me.
“You gave my son a knife?” she hissed.
The waiting room door opened, and a doctor in a white lab coat stepped inside. Looking around the room, his eyes met mine.
“Stefany?” he asked, and I sprang to my feet. Mac and Alex flanked either side as we stood before the doctor, both brothers linking their hands with mine.
I nodded, unable to find my voice.
“I’m Dr. Elba, Mr. Weston’s surgeon. He lost a lot of blood, but we were able to remove the bullet…” he explained. I felt my head bobbing as he spoke. I knew the bullet hadn’t gone all the way through. I could feel the metal against the tip of my finger the whole journey to the hospital. “…critical, but he should make an excellent recovery.”
“Can we see him?” Alex asked when I didn’t speak.
“I can allow only one visitor tonight,” the doctor said.
Mac kissed the top of my head. “Go, darlin’. Go see your man.”
I followed Dr. Elba as he took me to the private room they’d put Jake in following his surgery. His hand gripped the door handle, preventing me from getting inside.
“He’s still asleep and may not wake up for several hours, if not days. Don’t be alarmed when you see him. As I said, he lost a lot of blood and may look worse for wear right now.”
I didn’t care. I just needed to see him.
A steady, rhythmic beep from the heart monitor filled the otherwise quiet room. Tubes ran across his face and into his nose, a pulse oximeter attached to his index finger and a cannula sticking out of his arm feeding him pain medication.
The door closed quietly behind me, leaving me alone with Jake. He looked sickly white with dark shadows under his eyes, and his lips were cracked. I slowly edged forward, scared I would wake him up if I moved too quickly. I took his hand carefully in mine, lowering into the chair by his bedside.
“Hi,” I said, feeling suddenly awkward and unsure if he would be able to hear me. His chest rose and fell with his shallow breathing, and the sound from the heart monitor was the only sign he was still with me.
“You gave me a fright,” I admitted, running my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand. “I had to threaten dismemberment to hospital workers so I could stay with you, you know? I’m surprised they even let me in to see you.”
I ran my eyes along the length of him, tucked up under the starched hospital sheets, a generic knitted white blanket over the bottom half of his legs, his hands laid against his sides.
“You need to wake up now, okay? You’re starting to milk this whole ‘getting shot thing.’” I laughed hollowly and sat silently, listening to his heart rate. It was barely a whisper when I said, “You can’t let her win. She wasn’t meant to be the one who got to shoot you. That privilege was meant to be mine. Don’t let her take that away from me either…”
“That wouldn’t be nice to shoot the man you love after he already took two bullets for you.” His voice was low and scratchy; if he didn’t lightly grip my hand, I swear I would have imagined it.
I jerked my head up, a stuttering breath escaping as the dark blue eyes belonging to Jake stared back at me.
I launched myself at him, burying my head into his neck and inhaling his scent mixed with the basic laundry detergent from his hospital gown and antiseptic. It had never smelt so good.
He wrapped an arm around my back and grunted in pain, the sound muffled against my shoulder. I tried to push out his hold, but he held me tighter.
Sinking into him, the events from the last twenty-four hours hit me all at once. The accidental confession I’d let slip when I thought I was losing him. I moved, dislodging my face from the side of his neck, and threading my hand into his hair.
“You heard me?”
He smiled, licking his lips, and clearing his throat.
On his bedside table was a plastic jug filled with iced water and a cup with a straw sticking out of it. Pouring some into the cup, I held it to his lips, letting him drink as much as he needed.
“Fuck, I need better painkillers. Whoever made this shit doesn’t know what they’re doing.” He smiled impishly, leaning forward to take the straw back between his lips again.
“I’ll get the doctor,” I said, returning the cup to the table when he’d finished, then pressing the call button at the side of his bed. A nurse came into the room and smiled wide.
