Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Becker came around Sam, took hold of my shoulder for a moment, and then called Miro to him. Miro shot me a smile, and then the two of them walked in the opposite direction of Ian, over to another member of their team who I was pretty sure was named Kohn, and the three of them went to address the crowd of reporters.
Sam’s arm moved around me, less protective and more steering me back the way he’d come, across the area from the direction of our house.
“We need to go to the hospital, and I know you’d rather have a root canal, but I don’t know how hard they put you down on the car, or if they put you on the ground.”
“I fell,” I managed to get out as I shuffled along beside him. “But only after one of them gut punched me.”
He nodded. “Okay, so we’re going now.”
“But, Sam, you won’t be able to stay with me, and I just––” My voice broke. “That’s all I want, all right?”
Stopping in the street once we ducked under the tape, he unzipped his jacket and turned me into him, wrapped me up tight in his arms.
I cried then, and I hardly ever did anymore. But I hadn’t been hit in ages, and I wanted to take a shower and some ibuprofen, and then curl up safe beside him and fall asleep.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, “but everything has to be documented for the report that needs to be filed. There will be members of OPR, from both the marshals office and the FBI, that need to be there with us, as well as CPD, as you’re not in law enforcement, and they have to make a report as well.”
“So you’re telling me it’s going to be hours before I get home,” I said, leaning the side of my head against his chest, comforted by the beat of his heart and the warmth of his body.
“Without a doubt.”
I sighed deeply. “What about the van?”
“I brought Kola and Hannah with me, and they took it home. They’ll put everything away, so don’t worry.”
“But I have the whipped cream with me and it’ll go bad.”
“We’ll get some more, don’t worry.”
“I didn’t get to see them,” I almost whined. I wanted to hug my kids.
“They knew they wouldn’t be able to come talk to you, but they wanted to get a glimpse of you and see you were fine, and, like I said, they had to get the car.”
I huffed out a breath and leaned back and looked up at his face. “Okay.”
His smile made his slate-blue eyes glitter under the streetlights. “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t leave you.”
I wasn’t sure that Sam could keep his promise once we reached the hospital, but because it was for what amounted to a criminal investigation, he got to stay, as my husband and advocate, as I answered the questions of four nurses and two doctors, who I thanked profusely for all their amazing work, as well as the sets of lawyers from the marshals service, the FBI, and the Chicago Police Department. I was photographed, my sweater, jeans, belt, and shoes were taken, and then the medical tests began.
In the end, thankfully, nothing was broken. My right wrist was badly sprained, but other than bruises and scrapes, I would be fine. I was offered Vicodin, but it had a habit of making me queasy, and Percocet made me sleepy, so I opted for the big 800 milligram ibuprofen instead. They wrote me a prescription that Sam went to fill for me there at the hospital pharmacy. What was interesting was that in the short amount of time Meyers and Scalia had me—we learned their names at the hospital—quite a bit of damage had been inflicted. Sam found that telling of a large amount of stress they were under, and the words ticking time bombs were thrown around by everyone.
I nodded off in the car on the way home, and Sam carried me from the garage to the back porch and then into our laundry room. After stripping down to my underwear, throwing the scrubs I’d been given at the hospital directly into the trash, Sam and I both washed up and changed into our sweats and T-shirts that were kept outside.
“Oh,” Hannah whimpered when I walked into the kitchen, her face scrunching up and her bottom lip quivering. She was all good and strong until someone she loved got hurt.
“I’m okay, love. Come here.”
She was careful when she hugged me, and as soon as she could let go, Kola was there, taller than me now, so he leaned me into his arms and rubbed circles on my back like I had done to him when he was little.
“Would it be okay?” Jake asked hesitantly.
I hugged him, and then Harper, and both boys looked better after that.