Page 85 of Chasing Wildflowers
“You hurt her and you aren’t walking out of here alive.” Jameson growls, his tone pure ice, finger flexing on the trigger.
“She’ll still be dead though, won't she?” Byron sneers.
The knot slips.
My eyes meet Jameons, trying to silently tell him what I’m about to do. Without wasting another second, I shoot my arm up, knocking the gun aside.
Two shots ring out.
Time slows.
Jameson jerks back, the bullet tearing into his left shoulder. He stumbles back, blood blooming bright and fast across his shirt.
A scream tears out of me as everything inside me shatters.
Thirty-six
Jameson
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I slowly peel my eyes open, blinking against the harsh fluorescent light. White ceiling. Sterile walls. The sharp tang of antiseptic in the air.
The slow rhythmic beat of a machine.
The hospital.
I shift, instantly regretting it. I hiss through my teeth, white hot pain shooting through my shoulder.
“Jameson?”
Wildflower.
I slowly turn my head, pain instantly forgotten when my eyes land on her. She’s curled into the chair beside my bed, legs tucked under her, one hand clutching mine like she’s afraid if she lets go I’ll disappear. Her hair is thrown up in a messy bun and she’s wearing one of my sweatshirts. There is a gash along her cheek and somebruising around her eye that looks like it's going to get worse before it gets better.
She lets out a relieved breath. “You’re awake.”
“Hey, Wildflower.” I rasp out, voice cracked and raw. “What happened?”
Lane’s eyes water, and she squeezes my hand tighter. “You were shot.”
It all comes back to me. Byron. The gun. The burn of the bullet ripping through my shoulder.
I try to sit up. Dumb idea. Pain slices through my shoulder, and I grunt, my eyes squeezing shut.
Lane presses a gentle hand on my chest. “Don’t move,” she says softly. “You need to rest.”
I let my head fall back against the pillow. “Did I hit him?”
She nods. “Yeah. He’s gone.” Tears spill from her eyes. “I’m so sorry. It’s my fault you got shot,” she says, voice cracking. “You almost died. We were so far from the hospital and you lost so much blood—”
“Come here, baby,” I murmur, shifting over enough to make room for her, gritting through the pain.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Wildflower,” I warn. “I need you in my arms.”
She hesitates, only for a second before carefully climbing onto the narrow hospital bed next to me, her body curling into mine. I wrap my good arm around her and pull her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.
