58. Elyse
CHAPTER 58
Elyse
A FEW SCRAPES AND brUISES
PRESENT
I t smells like pee.
My legs bounce, knees jittering in a rapid rhythm as I sit in the hard chair next to Dominic’s bed.
He’s hooked up to all kinds of monitors, but the only one keeping me from spiraling is the steady beep of his heart rate.
He’s alive.
He’s alive, and that’s all that matters.
Maybe if I repeat it enough, I’ll actually believe it.
The doctors said he’s okay. The bullet grazed him, on the edge of his vest, and didn’t do any serious damage. They’ve said it enough times, but it’s like my brain can’t process it. My lungs burn with anxiety, and every breath feels like I’m choking.
Nervously, I twist the necklace around my neck. The one that Morales—of all people—managed to find in the rubble. I forced her into a hug after she gave it back to me, and I think that means we’re friends now.
Dominic’s been drifting in and out of consciousness from the pain meds. About an hour ago, the nurse said they were starting to ease him off the morphine drip and expected him to wake up soon.
I stare at him. At how pale his skin looks, at the thick white bandage stretched across his shoulder—what was formerly his good shoulder. His lashes rest against his cheeks, unmoving, his chest rising and falling slowly.
My eyes have been stuck in a constant haze of moisture.I keep blinking, wiping them away, but they continue coming. Not the kind that fall in heavy sobs—the quiet kind that leaves your skin raw.
Reaching out, I wrap my hand over his, needing to touch him, to feel his warmth.The moment our hands meet, he stirs.
His fingers twitch beneath mine, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Then his brows pull together, a faint crease forming between them.
“Dominic?” I whisper, leaning in, holding my breath.
He blinks slowly, lashes fluttering, and then—finally—his eyes open. They’re hazy and unfocused, but they’re open.
He’s awake.
“Hey,” I say, a watery smile breaking across my face. “Good morning.”
He groans in response.
“Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital,” he says horsely.
I smooth his hair back in slow, soft motions. “Yes, but everything is okay. You’re going to be just fine.”
He squints at me, groggy. “Why’re you crying?” His voice is rough, barely more than a rasp.
I laugh—more of a sob—and shake my head. “Because you scared me. You’re not allowed to die, remember?”
His hand curls weakly around mine, and his eyes slip shut again, but not before I hear him mumble, “Sorry, Ellie girl. ”
I start to move, pulling my hand away, but he won’t let me go.
“I’m just going to tell your nurse that you woke up.”
“Stay.” His eyes reopen, heavy-lidded. “Please.”
“Okay,” I whisper, brushing my thumb over the scruff on his cheeks and press the call button instead.
There’s a hospital-issued water bottle sitting on the rolling table beside his bed. I grab it and hold it up to him, guiding the straw to his lips. He manages two big gulps, his throat bobbing with each one, before sinking back against the pillows with a quiet groan.
“Thanks,” he murmurs, scratchy, but clearer. “And don’t worry about me dying, because me and you are dying on the same day.”
I set the water bottle aside, careful not to let go of his hand. Breathing a smile I say, “You say shit like that and then pretend you haven’t seen The Notebook .
He smiles with his eyes closed. “If I’m a bird?—”
He drifts to sleep for a moment before suddenly, jerking upright, his whole body tense, and the heart rate monitor spikes in response, beeping frantically.
“Ryker,” he rasps, eyes wide, panic flooding his face.
“Hey, hey—look at me,” I say quickly, tightening my grip on his hand. “He’s in custody. It’s over. You got him.”
He lets out a relieved exhale, sinking into the pillows.
When his eyes land on my cheek, he winces. His breathing sounds shaky as he tries to inhale. “I should’ve killed him. I should’ve fucking tortured him.”
I shake my head, sweeping my thumb over his knuckles. “No. You’re better than that. You got me out. That’s what matters.”
His eyes find mine, darker, more alert. “Did he?—”
“He didn’t.” I cut him off gently. “And I’m okay. Only a few scrapes and bruises.”
Once the doctors convinced me Dominic was stable, I finally let them check me out. I didn’t have any serious injuries—at least none that were visible. Just some bruising along my ribs, minor cuts on my wrists where the rope dug in, and the split in my cheek where Ryker slapped me. It didn’t even need stitches.
Physically I’ll recover quickly.
It’s the rest I’m not so sure about.
Dominic goes quiet, and I can see the war still playing out behind his eyes. The guilt. The fear. The anger. I lean forward and press my forehead lightly to his.
“You saved me,” I whisper. “That’s all I’ll remember.” Lifting my head, my gaze locks with his. “I love you, you know. I love you so much, and I can’t believe I almost lost you.”
A tears streaks down my face and Dominic catches it. His smile is weak and tired, but it’s there.
“Took you long enough.”
I snort through my crying. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
His head shakes. “I already knew. I don’t need your words, I can feel them.
He closes his eyes again, but not from exhaustion this time—it’s more like relief.
Moments later, the nurse strides in with a smile. “Looks like someone’s awake.”
Dominic nods. “Barely,” he groans.
She laughs and proceeds to check his vitals, recording each one as she does. When she’s done, she points to a poster on the wall with smiley faces, each one different based on the number.
“On a scale of one to ten, one being the lowest, ten being the highest, can you tell me what your pain level is?”
“Three,” he grits .
I snap my head at him. There’s no way his pain is at a three.
He flops his head back onto the pillows, huffing. “Seven.”
The nurse places her hands on her hips and sighs with a smile. “Seven is on the high side, so we don’t want that.”
“I want to be alert,” Dominic says.
She nods and types into the computer. “We can try to manage your pain without narcotics and see how it goes.” When she’s done typing, her attention turns to me. “The doctor will come by in about an hour to check on your husband and answer any questions. He’ll probably be released in about a day or two.”
Once she’s gone, Dominic gives me a tired, but very cocky smile. “She thought you were my wife, querida mía.”
I breathe out a laugh. “I told the staff we’re married so they’d keep me informed on everything.”
He laughs and moans at once. “My little criminal.”
“I am not a criminal.”
Grabbing my hand, he laces our fingers together, giving me a squeeze. When his eyes settle with mine, they’re soft around the edges. “We’re going to have to make it legal, then. Can’t have you getting in trouble. I heard they take HIPPA violations pretty seriously.”
Before I can react, a soft knock sounds, and a second later the door opens. Silvia steps in first, eyes already glassy, followed by Adrian. They arrived yesterday and we’ve been trading shifts, sitting by Dominic’s side.
“He’s awake,” I tell them as they walk in.
“Ay, dios,” his mom breathes, hurrying to his other side. Her hand trembles as she reaches for him, wrapping her arms around him. Adrian doesn’t say anything right away, just nods at me before gently bumping his fist against Dominic’s shin.
“I’ll give you guys a minute,” I say, standing.
Dominic glances at me, reluctant to let go, but he doesn’t protest. His mom needs to know he’s okay. Between the two of us, we’ve cried enough to fill a well.
I slip out into the hallway, rubbing my hands together to shake off the nerves still buzzing under my skin.
The waiting room is packed. My family, Dominic’s coworkers, friends, neighbors, acquaintances—it’s like the whole town has taken up residence in the hospital.
My mom’s sitting stiffly in a plastic chair, a coffee cup cradled between her palms with my dad pacing beside her. Layla’s curled up next to Ariana, both of them looking like they didn’t sleep. Gavin has Lily resting on his lap while she watches something on his phone. Ethan and Marisa are next to them having a quiet conversation. Scottie is conked out on a bench, exhausted after flying in on a red eye. And Shane is standing near the back, arms crossed, looking more stressed and tense than I’ve ever seen him before. When he sees me, he walks straight over.
“How is he?” he asks.
“He just woke up.”
His shoulders drop and he lets out an exhale. “Thank fuck.”
Any resentment Shane felt for Dominic disappeared the moment he found out he took a bullet for me, and ever since then he’s been riddled with worry. I have a feeling they’ll be making up fairly soon.
After I update everyone, letting them know Dominic’s awake, the crowd starts to filter out, leaving with hugs and promises to visit once he’s up for company.
Silvia and Adrian return, looking relieved. It’s been a stressful twenty-four hours, and despite not having seen or spoken to each other in years, we fell right back into sync.
Silvia’s English has amazingly improved. So much so, that she told me she teaches ESL online. Adrian gushed about his pregnant wife, who stayed behind in Portland because her morning sickness couldn’t withstand the three-hour drive. We met over FaceTime though, and I’m excited to get together once things calm down.
Silvia and Adrian leave to go back to my townhouse to whip up Dominic a home cooked meal. Something Raúl would’ve made.
We say our goodbyes and I return to Dominic’s room.
“Hey,” I say, slipping back into the chair beside him.
“Hey.” He looks so much livelier and I feel myself relax.
“Your dad still out there?”
“Yeah, my parents said they wanted to see you before they left. Why?”
He shifts slightly as he tries to sit up straighter. “Think I could talk to him? Alone?”
My heart does a ridiculous little somersault. “Alone?”
He smiles, a shy, adorably handsome, contagious smile. “Yeah. Got a question I’ve been meaning to ask him.”