Chapter 14 Daniel
Daniel
“Idon’t know,” Aunt Alice told me for the fiftieth time, her voice less patient than it had been hours before. “Once she’s awake, I can check.”
“She’s already healing,” I said desperately, running my hand down Rosemary’s arm. “That’s good, right?”
“Of course it is,” Alice replied. She turned away and walked back to the other bed where Dalton’s youngest son, Seamus, lay.
The boy had survived the surgery to remove the bullet and repair the damage.
The bullet had entered through the front, but lodged extremely close to his spine.
He hadn’t woken up, but they knew he would—and thanks to his genetics, he’d be fine.
His mother sat in a chair next to his head, her hand on his shoulder.
Dalton sat at the foot. Their sons had fallen asleep on the floor just as the sun rose.
The younger one’s head was pillowed by Thunder’s torso.
The dog’s snores were oddly pleasant in the silent room.
Alice had worked all night, patching the rest of us up. I realized after we’d finished with Rosemary that I’d been slowed down by two bullets in my thigh. I’d barely paid any attention as Alice had dug them out and sewn me up, watching Rosemary’s slow and even breaths.
My father had taken a bullet in the chest. Ambrose had a large cut down the side of his stomach. Beau had dislocated three fingers and had a graze wound up the side of his forearm.
All of us were exhausted.
My body didn’t even feel like my own. Every muscle ached. The stitches on my thigh barely registered, because everything hurt anyway. It was worse than the mating heat, which had dissipated. That ache had felt clean somehow, purposeful—this ache felt dirty and wrong.
My hands hadn’t stopped shaking.
By the time we’d gotten to the house, Rosemary had been pretty out of it. Alice had already been finishing up on Seamus, and it hadn’t taken her long to rescrub and get started on my mate, but it had felt like forever.
When we’d taken off her pants, I’d finally seen the damage that the bullet in her hip had caused. A large-caliber round had torn through the muscle. Without the pressure of her waistband, the blood had been hard to contain.
I didn’t know how she’d stayed on her feet.
I didn’t know how she’d even been awake.
Alice had managed to staunch that bleeding first, her hands moving over my mate with speed and expertise that I’d never equal, no matter how long I’d lived.
Then she’d moved to Rosemary’s shoulder.
She’d cursed the entire time.
There was so much damage that she wasn’t sure how much function Rosemary would have in her arm.
My mate, who could take me down like it was nothing, who climbed like Spiderman and flipped an old tractor tire when she felt overwhelmed, may never be able to do those things again.
The scar that would bisect my mate’s cheek for the rest of our lives felt inconsequential in comparison.
“How’s he doin’?” Gary asked Dalton, wheeling himself slowly into the room.
“No change,” Dalton replied tiredly.
“Not a bad thing,” Gary replied gruffly as he passed the Vampire. “Means he’s not any worse.”
“I’ll take it,” Dalton mumbled.
“How’s my girl?” Gary asked, stopping at the foot of Rosemary’s bed.
“Still sleeping,” I replied, my voice hoarse.
Gary grimaced as he looked her over. “She’ll be all right.”
I nodded tightly. He’d gotten the same information from Alice that I had. Yes, Rosemary would survive, but there was a chance that she’d never fully recover. I was terrified for her to wake up.
And though I knew it was irrational, I was terrified that she wouldn’t wake up.
“I’ll stay with her,” Gary said, rounding the bed. “You go get something to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“All right,” he said, his tone never changing. “Then you go see your mama. She’s been sittin’ at the kitchen table for the last two hours waitin’ for you to come out.”
“You’ll come get me—”
“The minute she wakes up,” he confirmed, cutting me off. “Go on now.”
I took my time sliding off the bed, careful not to jostle Rosemary as I went. Alice had inclined the head of the bed after Rosemary puked up blood in her sleep, and my mate started listing to the side as soon as my body was no longer propping her up.
My eyes burned as I gently wedged a pillow in beside her where I’d been lying.
“It’s all right,” Gary said softly. “Go take a few minutes.”
I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes as I walked out of the room. I had enough emotions of my own to deal with. I didn’t want to catch a glimpse of the fear on Dalton’s face. I’d already listened to his mate quietly weep for hours.
My mother was in the kitchen, but Gary had neglected to tell me that the rest of my family was there too.
Zeke’s mate, Charlie, rose as I entered the room and stepped forward to hug me tightly.
“Thanks, Charlie,” I said, patting his back.
He’d been Alice’s second pair of hands the night before, handing her what she needed before she could even ask for it.
He’d also been the only one to calm Rosemary down when she’d fought the oxygen mask on her face.
It was a stark change from the timid, devastated man who had greeted me the first time we met.
“How’re you doing?” he asked kindly as he pulled away.
“Not great,” I replied, pulling out a chair so I could fall into it.
“She’s doing well,” my mother said, reaching over to squeeze my hand.
“That’s what Alice says,” I agreed.
The rest of the table was silent.
“And she’s very pretty,” Mom added, her lips pulling up in a small smile.
“I thought looks weren’t everything, Mom,” Beau huffed good-naturedly.
“Oh, you be quiet,” she scolded.
“Did you tell your mother I was ugly?” Reese asked, staring at her mate.
“Of course not.”
“Then why—”
“Later,” Beau said with a grin, leaning over to kiss her.
I looked away. Had Rosemary and I ever had that ease between us? I’d thought we did, but now looking back, I wasn’t so sure. I’d left her over and over, and she’d gone out of her way to hide what it was doing to her. She’d been so fucking convincing.
Had all of it been a lie?
“How are you feeling?” my dad asked, watching me closely.
I knew what he was asking, and I held out my hands, which had stopped shaking—mostly.
“Nausea? Headache? Paranoia?”
“Yes, yes, no,” I replied. “But my mate is currently unconscious, so I think I get a pass on the first two.”
“And you’ll tell me if anything changes?”
“Of course.”
“What’s going on?” Charlie asked suspiciously, looking between us. “Were you wounded?”
“I’m fine, Charlie,” I replied. “What have I missed?”
“Adamson’s locked in the pool house,” Ambrose replied. “He’s not talking.”
“Of course he isn’t,” I grumbled.
“Arthur’s on his way,” my father added. “We called him this morning.”
“You think that’s the best play?” I asked, glancing around the table.
“I think that by the time I called him, he’d already gotten word of two headless generals and knew one was missing. If we’d waited any longer, it could’ve looked like we were hiding something.”
I nodded, hesitant to argue about it. The day before, I would’ve pointed out that Arthur had lied to us when he’d said he thought Zeke’s death was an isolated incident. I would’ve reminded them that he’d secretly contracted Dalton to find information, leaving us in the dark.
After last night, I was worried that they’d assume it was the paranoia that my father had asked about.
“Rosemary’s awake,” Ian called from the doorway to the medical room.
My heart pounded as I lurched to my feet and raced toward my mate. When I made it to her bedside, she was still groggy and scowling.
“Hey, baby,” I greeted, slowing as I moved toward the head of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than you look,” she replied. “What the hell happened to you?”
“He was awake all night,” Gary informed her.
Rosemary groaned and leaned her head back against the pillow. “Worried about me?”
“Maybe a little,” I conceded, leaning close. “You were in pretty bad shape when we got there.”
“I was still kicking ass and taking names when you got there,” she argued stubbornly, her gaze roaming over my face.
“Fair point.”
“You should sit down before you fall down. Here, I’ll scoot—” Her words broke off with a wheeze as she tried to use her arms to shift sideways.
“Stay where you are,” I ordered quickly, leaning my hip on the edge of the bed, “I’m fine right here.”
“Fuck,” she moaned, wincing as she lifted her hand to her wounded shoulder. “What the hell?”
“You need to give yourself a little more time,” I cautioned. “Just sit still.”
“Why the hell isn’t my arm working?” she asked, flexing her fingers slowly.
“You can move your fingers,” I replied, relief sweeping through me.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to move my fingers?” She rotated her wrist just fine, but when she tried to lift her arm, nothing happened. “Fuck.”
“Give it some time,” Alice ordered, stomping into the room. “Don’t ruin all my hard work by popping your stitches.”
Rosemary nodded slowly, eyeing my honorary aunt.
“Rosemary, this is my Aunt Alice.”
“You’re a doctor?” Rosemary asked.
“I am.”
“How’s Seamus?”
Aunt Alice glanced at the boy in the bed. “He’ll be fine.”
“Thank God,” Rosemary whispered.
Gary and I stood by while Alice checked Rosemary over, looking under bandages and murmuring to her quietly. When she was finished, she nodded.
“You can take her up to bed,” she told me. “She’ll heal faster with some peace and quiet.”
Rosemary looked worriedly over at Seamus.
“He’s just sleepin’, Flower,” Gary told her, patting her foot.
Alice settled Rosemary’s bad arm into a sling, and I helped her to her feet while Gary looked away, so I could wrap the blanket all the way around her bare body before I lifted her into my arms. We’d had to cut all of her clothes off the night before. There wasn’t a piece that had been salvageable.