Page 91 of Take My Hand

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LIAM

I HAVE NO idea what happened to me.

Everything is foggy. My brain is muddled with flashes of what I think could be happening, but nothing makes any sense, and I can’t seem to get my eyes to open no matter how hard I try.

I concentrate on one of my hands, one that feels something covering it. I focus on moving one of my fingers, and I must do so because I hear a voice now and the pressure grows. I squeeze more, and I think I smile when it works.

I try again to open my eyes, but it’s hard. The lights are bright, and I’m not sure where I am.

I think of the last thing I remember: the club, the lights, the music, Alexander, and Margaret. Margaret was there with me before all hell broke loose. I remember standing up and running, shoving a door open, maybe catching sight of someone in an alley, and reaching for my gun.

That’s where it ends.

Fuck. Margaret—where is she? Is she okay?

I will my eyes to open and finally, finally, I see a sliver of light. I close them again, a headache pounding in the back of my head. I gotta open them. I gotta get to Margaret.

This time, I don’t let the headache stop me, and I open my eyes, except everything is blurry. I panic for a moment, but then I blink and things start to slowly come into focus.

I’m in a hospital. I recognize the machines beside me, and I search the room for the person I’m looking for. I don’t have to wait long, because when I turn my head to the right, she’s right there in front of me.

A sob escapes from her chest and she pulls my hand close, clutching it with a strength I didn’t know she had. I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s okay.

“Mo,” I say, or I try to, but my voice catches and I’m choking.

“Get some water,” she says over her shoulder. I try to follow her line of sight, but I can’t see who else is in the room, and I focus on trying to breathe. After a beat, Margaret sticks a straw into my mouth, and I take slow sips, trying to soothe my throat.

When I finally do, I try again. “Mo,” I repeat, reaching forward with my left arm and cupping her cheek.

“I love you.” It’s nearly incoherent when she says it, but I hear it, and it makes my chest expand to the point of pain. I close my eyes, the relief I felt at knowing she is all right even more palpable upon hearing those words.

“I love you too, Mo,” I say, pulling her closer as best I can. Her lips press to mine before I can ask for it, and I kiss her back slowly, not strong enough to do what I’d like to but not complaining that I’ve been given a chance to even have this moment with Margaret again.

“I’m so glad you’re awake.” Her voice trembles as she pulls away. I don’t want her to go but she reaches behind her, holding out a hand, and a woman whose features practically mirror my own comes into view.

I smile at my sister and open my arms for her. She approaches cautiously, and we embrace for several minutes. I know she’s crying, but she’s trying her best to hold herself together. She was always the tough sibling.

“When did you get here?” I ask her.

“The second I heard something went wrong, I hopped on a plane.” She smiles at me when she pulls back. “You look good for a guy who was unconscious for two days.”

My smile slides away. “Two days?”

She doesn’t get to reply before the door is pushed open and a doctor walks in. He looks like he’s been doing this for far too long, but I sit up and listen patiently as he explains the extent of my injuries. Turns out, Alexander was a good shot. Even running from me, he managed to hit me twice, once in the leg and once in the left shoulder. The one in the leg went all the way through, but the one in the shoulder lodged itself within me.

As I listen, my eyes keep tracking back and forth between the doctor and Margaret’s face. She’s got a hand in mine and is biting her right thumbnail, her eyes trained on my legs as she listens to something she’s no doubt already heard.

As pale and exhausted she looks, she is still the most stunning woman I’ve ever met.

The doctor leaves, and before I can say a word, Margaret excuses herself and rushes out of the room. I frown at her retreat and am still staring at the door when Layla speaks up. “She’s been tough.”

I turn to her, really giving her a once-over for the first time. It’s almost surreal that she and Margaret are in the same room.

“She’s been trying to keep it together, and I’d bet she’s finally allowing herself to give in to some well-earned tears at this point.”

I grab Layla’s hand and squeeze. “I’m glad you were here for her.”

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