Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I’m the guy in the Made Marian T-shirt. The one from Hawaii.”
And for the first time since that night six long months ago, claiming it made me a little bit proud.
16
TOMMY
The fluorescent lights in the hospital waiting room buzzed overhead like angry wasps, casting everything in a sickly pale glow that made the beige walls look gray. I sat in the same hard plastic chair I’d claimed six hours ago, staring at my hands.
They’d finally stopped shaking.
The blood under my fingernails had dried to a rusty brown, and somewhere in the back of my mind, the doctor part of me noted that I should wash them properly.
But I was a brother, too, and to that part of me, moving seemed impossible. Every time I tried to stand, my legs felt like they were made of water.
I thought of the thousands of family members I’d talked to in the ER over the years. People whose shoes I’d never truly been in. Until now.
I was one of the fortunate ones. Hazel was stable. The surgeon had been optimistic about her recovery. The femur fracture would heal cleanly with the titanium rod they’d inserted, and the head trauma was thankfully minor—mostly swelling that was already responding to treatment. She’d been lucky. We’d all been so damned lucky.
So why did I still feel like I was going to throw up?
“Tommy.” Foster’s voice cut through the fog in my head. He was standing beside my chair holding two cups of coffee, though I couldn’t remember him leaving to get them. “How are you holding up?”
I looked up at him and tried to form words, but they felt stuck somewhere in my throat. Foster’s face creased with concern, and I realized that, like me, he was still wearing the same clothes from our emergency response—tactical pants and a SERA shirt, now rumpled and stiff with dried sweat and rain.
He’d stayed. Through the entire surgery, through hours of waiting, through me being completely useless. He’d stayed so long his wet clothes had dried to his body. He’d just… stayed.
I let out a shuddering breath. “She’s okay,” I managed finally, my voice coming out hoarse. “The surgeon said—”
“I know.” Foster sat down in the chair next to mine, close enough that our knees almost touched. “I heard the update. That’s not what I asked.”
I stared at the coffee cup he pressed into my hands, watching steam curl up from the surface. When had I become so cold? “I’m okay. I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.” The word was gentle but firm. “When’s the last time you ate something?”
I tried to remember and gave up with a shrug. Breakfast felt like a lifetime ago. “I don’t know.”
Foster’s jaw tightened, and he pulled out his phone. “Ella and Alex agree I should take you home.”
“Oh?” I blinked around, half expecting my cousins to still be in the waiting room with me. “Where’d they go?”
“They’re trying to convince Avery to get some sleep.” He studied my face with those observant hazel eyes. “Tommy, you need to do the same. Hazel’s going to be fine, but she’s going to need you at full strength when she wakes up.”
Before I could respond, I heard Alex’s familiar voice as he and Ella walked up. “Listen to the sheriff, Tommy. You’ve done your part. Now it’s our turn.”
“I’m okay,” I repeated automatically, even though we both knew it was a lie.
Alex and Ella pulled me up for a big group hug, creating a brief cocoon of family warmth that made my chest ache. “How’s Avery?” I asked
“She and the baby are great, with the exception of a little seat belt bruising. You already know this. She won’t leave, so they’re setting up a bed in Hazel’s room for her.”
Ella stepped back and really looked at me for the first time, taking in my muddy, bloodstained clothes and whatever my face was doing. “Jesus, Tommy, you stink.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m serious. You need to get out of here and let us take over for the night shift.” She turned to Foster, who was watching our family reunion with careful attention. “You might need to hog-tie him.”
“I’ve got cuffs in the truck,” Foster said dryly. Then he turned to meet my eyes and bounced his eyebrows suggestively where no one else could see him.
I was too tired to do more than huff out a breath of laughter.
“I’m taking you back to SERA whether you come willingly or not,” he warned in a voice that was no longer teasing.
Now, that… that did something to me, even if his mention of the cuffs hadn’t. I swayed a little closer to him without thinking.
“You’re dead on your feet,” Ella scolded, using the tone she’d perfected when we were kids and she was trying to talk me out of staying up all night studying. “Hazel’s going to murder you if you collapse from exhaustion and steal her thunder.”