Chapter 25 #2
The doctor reached out and patted my hand.
He wore jeans and a T-shirt under his coat, the picture of quiet exhaustion.
“We removed shrapnel from his side and are watching him for internal bleeding, but so far, so good.” He paused and took a slow breath.
“Agent Devlin also has a concussion. But he’s stable now. ”
Relief hit me like air after drowning. My knees nearly gave out, and I sank into the nearest chair, feeling the storm still raging outside even through the hospital’s thick glass walls.
“They did a CT scan,” Doc Springfield said. “I didn’t see any hematoma. That’s the good news. However, he hasn’t awakened yet. We’re not out of the woods until he awakens.”
“Can I sit with him?” I asked.
“Yes, but only you. I don’t want a crowd in there,” the doctor said.
I looked over at Saber. “Is that okay?”
He nodded. “He’d want it to be you.”
“Okay. I’ll call if I hear anything,” I told my dad, patting his arm before following Doc Springfield through the hall.
The hospital was quiet except for the echo of our footsteps and the low hum of machines behind closed doors. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee gone stale. Outside, rain slapped the windows in uneven bursts, the sound reminding me how far from normal this day had become.
Aiden lay motionless in a bed in a dim room near the end of the corridor. Monitors beeped steadily beside him, one of them counting each breath. The soft light made everything look too still, too fragile.
“Should he be awake?” I asked.
“Give him a little time,” Springfield said.
I stepped forward, feeling like I didn’t belong there, like none of this should be real.
Aiden didn’t belong there either. He lay on the bed, tan skin pale under the fluorescent light, his broad shoulders looking too wide for the hospital gown.
A white blanket covered him to the chest, where bandages peeked from beneath the edge of the gown.
Cuts and bruises marred the hard angles of his face and neck. His dark lashes rested against his cheekbones, and those blue eyes—his impossible, electric blue eyes—were closed.
I sank into the chair at his bedside and pulled myself closer, my fingers wrapping around his hand.
It felt warm and solid, too alive for everything else in the room.
I ducked my head and prayed, words tumbling together in my mind until they stopped making sense.
Finally, I leaned back but didn’t let go.
“Aiden, wake up,” I whispered. “Please.”
The machines kept beeping. The sound filled the room, relentless. I had never really believed anything could happen to him. He was always faster, stronger, sharper—untouchable. He was Aiden. Invincible.
“Please,” I said again, my voice cracking. “Wake up.”
He didn’t move.
I sat there through the slow creep of hours, answering texts from my sisters who were probably keeping the rest of the family from rushing in. I appreciated it.
At some point, I stood and leaned over him, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. I pressed my lips to his skin. “Wake up,” I whispered again.
Still nothing.
Nurses came and went, taking blood, adjusting monitors. Doctors stopped in, quiet and efficient. I stayed put. I couldn’t have said how long. Time had lost meaning.
Eventually, exhaustion pulled me forward until my cheek rested on the blanket beside our joined hands. His palm was still warm. I took that as a sign. But he didn’t stir.
Doc Springfield checked in a few times, his face tightening with each visit. The shadows beneath his eyes grew darker. I tried to ignore what that might mean.
Memories crowded in, one after another. The first time I’d seen Aiden, when he’d rescued me from a kidnapper years ago.
Then later, when he’d come back into my life undercover, pretending to be someone else while I stood in court wearing a suit and heels.
Every meeting, every fight, every near miss between us played behind my eyes like old film.
Tears gathered, blurring my vision, and I let them fall onto the blanket, still holding his hand.
“Don’t cry.”
My head jerked up.
He’d barely managed to get the words out, rough and hoarse, but they were his.
“Aiden.” I gripped his hand tighter and leaned forward.
His eyes were open, unfocused but blue and alive. “Are we in the hospital?”
“Yes,” I gasped, swiping at my face. “Are you okay?”
He frowned, barely moving his head. “Is it me or you?”
“It’s you,” I burst out. “You’re in the hospital. There was an explosion. You were hurt.”
His brows furrowed, and he winced. “Aye. Headache.”
“Yeah. You were in the tunnel. It collapsed.”
He glanced around slowly. “I don’t remember that.”
“You’re safe now,” I said.
“How about you? Are you good?” His eyes met mine, steady despite the haze.
“I’m fine. I’m not the one in the hospital bed.”
“Oh.” He sounded groggy but alert enough to make me breathe again.
“Can you move everything?” My voice came out too loud.
He squeezed my hand. “That one works.”
“What about the other?”
He lifted his arm, slow but steady.
“Feet?”
He wiggled his toes under the blanket. “I think I’m good.” He started to push the blanket aside.
“No.” I caught his wrist. “You’re not good. You’re not leaving. You had shrapnel embedded in your side.”
He paused. “I did?”
“And a concussion.”
“Yeah, that one I believe. I’m seeing two of you.”
“That’s not great,” I muttered, but my chest loosened. “You’re talking. That’s good.” I pressed the call button. “We’ll get the doctor.”
Doc Springfield came within seconds, his sneakers squeaking on the floor. Relief softened his face. “Hey, Agent Devlin. You gave us a scare.”
Aiden looked at him warily.
“The whole town of Silverville is outside, plus half of Timber City,” Doc said. “Do you mind if I tell them you’re all right so they can finally go home?”
“They’re all here?” Aiden asked, frowning.
“Yeah. Looks like you’ve got more people who care about you than you realized.” Doc’s smile was kind. “Your unit and Sheriff Franco want to talk to you once you’re up for it.”
Aiden’s gaze shifted to me. “Okay.”
Doc left quietly, the door clicking shut behind him.
Aiden turned back to me. “Everybody came?”
“Yes.” I met his gaze. “Because you’re in the hospital.”
He looked confused for a moment, as if that simple fact didn’t make sense. Aiden had never been the one who needed help. People forgot he didn’t have family of his own. What he did have was our town, this web of people he’d saved or protected or inspired, even when he didn’t notice.
“They’re all here for you,” I said softly.
He looked around the room, his eyes clearing. “Huh.”
I wasn’t sure what that sound meant, but it felt like something shifting.
Then he flipped his hand in mine, fingers intertwining. The strength of that small movement nearly undid me.
“You’re pale,” he murmured, his voice strengthening into a command. “Sit down.”
Relief hit me so fast my knees gave out. I dropped back into the chair.
There he was. Aiden was back.