Page 34 of Colton in the Wild
“Should have gotten her here sooner,” he said gruffly, unable to meet her eyes.
“But the doctor said this didn’t happen until after she was here. It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I’m the one who thought she’d be okay once the bleeding stopped. But she lost more than I realized and I—”
“Spence, stop. You’re the one who stopped that bleeding, or she would have died out there. She wouldn’t have even had the chance to fight.”
He should have protested, should have explained exactly how he’d been stupid about it, not realizing how severely injured she’d actually been. But when Hetty’s mother leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek, he couldn’t say a single word.
She then rushed over to Hetty’s bedside, taking her daughter’s hand in hers gently. He knew she was close to all her kids—all seven of them—but guessed there was a special, different kind of bond with the only girl. He remembered when Hetty’s father, Charles Amos, had died of a fast-moving cancer. He had been an executive with an oil company where he had started out working the same job his son Troy now had on the oil rigs. His death had left Hetty’s mother with seven kids to finish raising, but she’d never faltered.
He watched the two for a moment then realized he should probably leave them some privacy. He stepped out into the hallway and leaned wearily back against the wall. So wearily that the ICU nurse even paused to ask if he was all right.
“I’m all right as long as she is,” he said with a nod toward the room behind him.
When Mrs. Amos came out some time later, he’d finally sat down on one of the benches outside Hetty’s room. She took a seat beside him, reached out and laid a hand over his. He looked down at them, so tired, he caught himself comparing skin tone, how Hetty’s was somewhere in between his and her mother’s. But the green eyes? They were the forever gift from Charles Amos, and he wondered what it was like to see that both loving and painful reminder every time you looked in a mirror.
When Mrs. Amos spoke, it was with quiet certainty. “That old saying about hindsight being twenty-twenty is true, you know. You had no way of knowing this could happen. The blame lies squarely on the predator who did this, not you.”
“I still should have—”
He stopped when her mother shook her head. Because you just didn’t argue with this matriarch. “No. You did everything you could and should have. And you’ve stayed with her, by her side, through it all. My only girl, our treasure, has a chance, thanks to you, and your father.” She paused then gave Spence an odd sort of smile. “You’ve been a big part of her life for so long, I’m not surprised you’d be the one to help her through this.”
When she’d gone back to her daughter, Spence sat running those last words through his weary mind over and over again, wondering if there was some deeper meaning there.
He should leave, he belatedly realized. Her mother was there now, she didn’t need him. And when she had needed him, he’d completely missed how bad things really were and she’d nearly died because of it. Because, when they’d been huddled under that survival blanket last night, all he could think of was her, how good she felt and how much better he felt after finally letting out the secret he’d carried all these years.
And how amazing it had felt to hear her admit to pretty much the same thing. All those times when she’d jabbed at him, when she’d sniped at him, it had been for the same reason he’d always flirted with clients or other women in front of her; to hide the truth. They’d been playing this silly game, each of them hiding their feelings behind differing masks, until fate had stepped in and slapped them both upside the head.
“Wake up, Hetty,” he whispered to the momentarily empty hallway. “You’ve got to wake up.”
* * *
When Hetty first heard the low hum of…something, she thought… She wasn’t sure what she thought. It didn’t sound like her plane, and she wouldn’t have been sleeping if it was. But then she remembered that jolt of adrenaline when the engine had died…then the shots. The searing agony of the bullet tearing through her flesh. Her next thought was that she had died and this was what it smelled like. That startled her into opening her eyes.
She had to blink several times against the unexpected brightness. She had the fleeting notion that this was some kind of waiting room where you went after you died. Or maybe when you were in the process of dying.
But then there was movement and a moment later she was looking up into Spence’s face. Still groggy, she was struck with the horrible fear that he was dead, too. Had the shooter gotten him? Had he been hurt and she hadn’t known? Her pulse kicked up and suddenly she was a bit more awake.
“Hey,” he whispered. “Welcome back.”
“I…what? Where?”
“Easy,” Spence said soothingly. “We’re in Wasilla. Do you remember my dad coming for us?”
“I…” She scrunched her eyes closed then opened them again, determinedly shoving back at that groggy feeling. “Yes,” she said.
And she did remember lying across the back seats of the RTA helo, held in place by seat belts. Looking up at the sky as they’d wheeled her into the emergency room. Most of all, she remembered the look on Spence’s face when they’d gone through those swinging doors, leaving him on the other side. And that was about the last thing she remembered.
The rest, the before part, came back to her in a rush now: last night huddled in the cave, the things they’d said, the things they’d finally admitted. She would have probably felt her cheeks heat if another question hadn’t arisen almost immediately.
“How long?”
“You’ve been pretty out of it for almost twenty-four hours. It’s Tuesday morning.”
She frowned. “Why? Did they drug me? I wasn’t feeling that bad, did they have to—”
She stopped abruptly when Spence reached out and cupped her cheek. Yesterday—no, two days ago apparently—that would have been unthinkable. Now, it was… She wasn’t sure what it was. Other than it felt good.
