Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
EDEN
It felt like I was struggling through a dense, heavy fog that didn’t want to let me go.
My eyelids fluttered, but only one opened fully, and as my vision came into focus, I fought to shake off the haze clinging to my consciousness and looked around the unfamiliar room.
I made the mistake of trying to turn my neck and let out a low groan as pain ricocheted through my skull like a ping-pong ball. I tried to lift my hand to rub at my forehead, but something caught. I looked down at a long tube that went from my hand to an IV bag hanging near my head.
“About time you decided to wake up, buttercup.”
Despite the pain, my head whipped in Lincoln’s direction. “Linc?” I asked, still in a daze. “Is this a dream?”
“Not a dream, baby,” he responded in a gentle voice as he sat on the side of the bed I was in. “Just really good drugs to keep the pain at bay.”
My brows pulled into a frown that made me wince as another spark of fire shot through me. I lifted my hand again, that time more carefully, and felt around my forehead.
“Stitches, baby. I know they’re a pain in the ass, but try not to touch ’em,” Lincoln said, taking my hand and pulling it away from my head. He kept it in his, lifting it to his mouth and pressing a kiss against my knuckles.
“Where am I?”
His expression twisted into one of pain as he answered, “You’re in the hospital, darlin’.”
Then the levy broke and the memories all came flooding in. Vlad’s men beating me, my brother showing up, gunshots… and Cord.
Tears blurred my eyes, making it impossible to see as I whispered, “Cord—”
“He’s gonna be just fine, Edie. It was touch and go for a while, but he pulled through surgery, and he’s gonna be fine.”
I was so sure he’d been dead, so sure that hearing Lincoln say he was going to be okay made me burst into gut-wrenching sobs that made it feel like someone was stabbing me over and over in the ribs, but I couldn’t stop. He was alive. That was all that mattered.
Lincoln crawled into the bed as I cried and cried, holding me in his arms and whispering soothing words to me as I let it all out.
Being kidnapped, being shot twice, thinking one of my friends had lost his life trying to protect me, seeing my brother come to save me.
All of it was just too much, and by the time I finally got ahold of my tears, every muscle in my body throbbed at the exertion.
Lincoln reached over and hit a tiny red button at the end of a long cord, and seconds later that fog started rolling back in.
I wanted to stay awake, wanted to ask him a million questions. But as Lincoln’s lips pressed against my forehead, and his soft command of “Sleep, darlin’. You need to heal up” filled my ears, I lost my battle and drifted back off.
When I woke up on day three in the hospital, I was much more clearheaded.
When I looked over, Lincoln was asleep in the uncomfortable-looking hospital chair, the same chair he’d kept himself glued to for days.
His elbow was on the arm, his cheek in his hand and his booted feet propped up on the edge of my bed.
From the shadows under his eyes, I knew he hadn’t been sleeping, and I didn’t want to disturb him, but I really had to pee.
I sat up slowly, testing my limits, and discovered the ache in my stomach and ribs was feeling marginally better. I tossed the covers off and gingerly threw my legs over the edge of the bed, prepared to use my IV pole as a cane on the way to the bathroom.
Lincoln’s raspy voice came to me before my feet could hit the cold floor. “What’re you doin’ baby?”
I looked back over my shoulder and offered him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Then you should’ve stayed in bed. Where you off to?”
I chewed on my bottom lip as my eyes darted to the bathroom. As embarrassing as it was, I knew the trip would be so much easier with his help.
“I have to pee,” I finally admitted.
With a dimpled smile, Lincoln rose to his feet and rounded the bed. With his help, I made quick work of my bathroom trip and was back in bed in record time.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, pulling the chair closer to the bed before resuming his seat and taking my hand in his.
“I’m better today than yesterday. I think I’m good enough to walk down to Cord’s room so I can check on him.”
He gave me a look and muttered, “Nice try.” For two days I’d tried getting him to let me see Cord, and for two days he’d shot me down, saying I needed to stay in bed and rest up.
“Please, Lincoln,” I begged quietly, tears brimming in my eyes. “I need to see him. I have to see for myself that he’s okay.”
He watched me for a few seconds. When he spoke next, that weight I’d been carrying around on my chest for days finally lifted. “Fine, but you’re not walkin’. It’s a wheelchair or nothing.”
“Deal!” I readily agreed.
Lincoln pushed the call button on the side of my bed and requested a wheelchair from the nurse who came in to check on me. She gave him a nod and a giddy smile, then muttered, “Right away,” before scurrying back out.
It was the same song and dance with all the nurses, and I couldn’t fault a single one of them for their reaction to my man.
Hell, most times I looked at him, I felt the exact same way.
There was no jealousy or self-consciousness as they swooned over him.
I simply laughed good-naturedly and shook my head, knowing I was the one who’d be going home with him when all was said and done.
“Before we see Cord, there’s something I’ve been wantin’ to talk to you about.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“The fact that you love me.”
My lungs deflated. When I’d finally woken up enough and the dosage of my pain meds had been lowered to a level that didn’t zonk me out, I’d convinced myself that it had all been a hallucination, that I hadn’t told Lincoln I loved him when I thought I’d been knocking on death’s door.
Sure, it was totally and completely a hundred percent true, but I really wished it had come during something way more romantic than me passing out from blood loss.
“Honey, I—”
“Good to know you feel that way, since I love you too.”
“I—wait.” My heart flipped about a million times as my face split into a goofy smile. “You do?”
“I do, baby. And I’m really fuckin’ glad that’s all out in the open now.”
“You don’t think it’s too soon?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Well, no. I mean, if you really think about it, we haven’t been together that long. It takes most people months to get to this point.”
“Darlin’, since we’ve met, your brother’s broken into your house twice, the cops have pulled you in for questioning on a string of robberies, you were kidnapped by some really not good guys, and you’ve been shot.
Most relationships never reach that kind of intensity, and we weathered through it fuckin’ brilliantly.
As far as I’m concerned, what we’ve been through equals at least three years of serious commitment. So no, I don’t think it’s too soon.”
“Well okay then,” I replied with a giddy giggle. “Then it’s official. I love you, and you love me.”
He gave me that dimple, and I swear to god, at the sight of it, everything in my world was set to rights.
“That pretty much covers it. Oh, and while you were sleepin’ like a log up here, I went ahead and moved all my shit to your place.
Figured I’d go ahead and get that out of the way. That work for you?”
Oh yeah. That most definitely worked for me.