Page 30 of The Sweet Spot
The woman checks her computer screen. “He’s in room eight.” She points to a set of double doors. “Go through those doors, then turn right and follow the signs. The door numbers are marked.”
I follow her instructions, and after wandering around a bit, I find Chris’s room. He’s lying on a bed. His forehead is bandaged, as is his right shoulder. The sheets are bloody, and so are the bandages.
I step into the room and try to be quiet so I don’t disturb the nurse who is gently wiping blood off his face. My heart is in my throat, threatening to choke me.
When she spots me standing here, she smiles and waves me closer. “It’s okay. You can come talk to him. I’m just getting him cleaned up.”
His eyes are closed, but based on his ragged breathing, I sense he’s awake.
I lean close. “Chris? It’s me. I’m here.”
He cracks open his eyes and squints at me as he winces in pain.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to talk.” I reach down and squeeze his left hand, the only part of him not covered in blood. “I came as soon as I heard.” I glance up at the nurse, who’s just about done cleaning him up. “Is he okay?”
“His vitals are stable,” she says. “He has a superficial cut on his forehead—hence all the blood. Scalps bleed a lot. And his right shoulder is dislocated. Once we get someone in here to address that, he should be good as new.”
“Oh, thank God.” Relief washes through me, leaving my knees weak. I pull a chair up to the side of the bed so I can sit near him.
He’s clinging to my hand, and apparently neither one of us wants to let go.
“Are you okay?” I ask when we’re finally alone. “I saw you drive past the diner when you were chasing that suspect. I heard the little girl is fine.”
When he shifts position, he cries out. “Damn it, that hurts!” He blows out a breath. “Yeah, Ricky told me she was okay. I saw the suspect crash, and I was afraid for the kid. I’m just glad she’s all right.”
There are fine lines bracketing his mouth, and his breathing is ragged. I can tell he’s in a lot of pain. “Hopefully they’ll fix your shoulder soon. At least it’s your right shoulder. That’s a good thing, right?” Because he’s a lefty.
Chris nods, but even that seems to hurt him. He sucks in a sharp breath. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize for being human, Chris. I know you’re in pain. It’s okay.”
I sit with him, holding his hand and gently stroking his hair. He seems to have dozed off a bit, lying quiet and so still.
I notice movement at the door to Chris’s room. Deputy Ricky Stephens is standing just outside.
“You can come in,” I say, motioning for him to enter.
He walks into the room, dressed in his uniform, but looking a bit disheveled. “How’s he doing?”
“His shoulder is dislocated, and he’s in a lot of pain. But otherwise, he’s okay.”
Ricky nods. “Good. I’m glad to hear that. His SUV took quite a beating, so I wasn’t sure how serious his injuries are.”
“Everyone else is okay?” I ask. “Except for the carjacker. I heard he didn’t make it. But the little girl is okay?”
Ricky nods. “She was taken to the Children’s Hospital to be checked out, but they said she’s fine. Her parents are with her now. Looks like Chris saved the day.” He comes closer to the bed to glance down at Chris, who’s sleeping. “When he wakes up, please tell him his duty belt, badge, and gun are at the station.”
“I’ll tell him.”
Ricky leaves, and I maintain my vigil, leaving only once for a few minutes to visit the restroom and get a bottle of water at a vending machine. When I return, he’s still asleep.
I’m reading on my phone when I hear him groan. When I glance up, he’s awake, watching me. “Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he replies, his voice subdued.
I reach for his hand. “Just hang in there. I’m sure someone will come in before long to take care of your shoulder.”
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