Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I opened my eyes. I was in a bed in a strange room. A man in green scrubs stood at the foot of the bed, writing something in a chart.
“Hey,” I said, my voice hoarse.
He put the chart down and moved to stand beside me. “How are you feeling, Beth?”
My body hurt, but my mind felt alert and awake. “Who are you?”
“I’m your surgeon.”
“What happened?”
“You got stabbed.”
“I know that. But what happened after that?”
He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and began to listen to my chest. “Deep breaths, please. The blade of the knife slightly nicked your liver. We went in laparoscopically and stitched you up. Barring the possibility of an infection, I expect you to have a full recovery.”
I swallowed. My throat felt dry. “Is anyone here?”
He stood back up and looked at the monitors above my head. “Your parents are here. And there is also a furious, terrifying guy, who has been raising hell since you were admitted. He’s terrorized my nurses, and he threatened to kill me if I didn’t save your life.”
Porter was here!
“I don’t think he actually would’ve killed you.”
The doctor gave me a look. “I’m pretty sure he meant it.”
“Good thing I lived then, hey?” I awkwardly joked.
“Tell you what. You can see them for five minutes, and for my own personal safety, you can show them that you’re alive, but then you need to get some sleep.”
Mom wept when she saw me. She sat beside my bed and held my hand while tears poured down her face. Meanwhile, Dad stood on the other side of the bed and stared down at me like it was his mission to look devastated.
“Beth…” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”
But the one person I was interested in leaned against the far wall. His arms were crossed, and he had the worst scowl on his face. He didn’t speak. He just stared at me.
Porter was beyond pissed. I could feel the anger rolling off him in waves, and he was doing nothing to hide it.
“Mom,” I said weakly. “I’m fine. Okay?”
She shook her head, unable to stop crying.
I turned to my dad for help. “Doctor said I’m going to make a full recovery.”
He blinked at the ceiling as he fought tears. I had never seen my father show any emotion. Certainly not tears.
“Dad, come on,” I said softly.
He struggled to gain composure. My eyes were drawn back to Porter, whose t-shirt was covered in dark brown stains. My blood. He hadn’t moved an inch, and his eyes never left my face.
His stare was cold and hard. Fuck. I remembered Emily telling me that Jackson had two modes. One was normal, tough guy Jackson. And the other mode she called his SEAL mode.
She told me Jackson got this edge, this energy, that could clear rooms and make grown men shit their pants. I studied Porter. He was in full-on SEAL mode. He was edgy as fuck, and one wrong look, one wrong move, and a beast would be unleashed.
“Mom, Dad, can you give Porter and me a moment?”
They’d been dealing with Porter for who knew how many hours. It was telling what those hours had been like, because without saying another word, without looking at him, they stood and vacated the room.
I laid there and evaluated him. If looks could kill, I’d be dead a hundred times over. “You’re pissed."
He stared at me, blinking, but other than that, he didn’t move a muscle.
“I fucked up.” I bit my lip. “You warned me, and I ignored your warning.”
He swallowed but didn’t even blink.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
His voice was cold and clipped. Emotionless. “I wasn’t there to protect you. You dropped your phone, and I could hear your screams. You sounded like you were being murdered. And I had to hang up. I had to hang up on you to call 911. And when we got to you, you were no longer conscious.”
“Do you hate me?”
He didn’t move. He stood there, arms crossed, staring down at me.
“Okay, “ I said, my voice cracking. “I understand.”
The nurse pushed in the door. The moment she saw Porter, she stopped in her tracks and started to back out of the room.
“Is visiting time over?” I asked. I needed him out of here before he told me he was done. I didn’t think I could handle it if he told me that. I needed to gain some strength before he told me he was done with me .
“Yes,” she said timidly.
I looked back at Porter. He pushed himself off the wall and, without looking back, walked out. I started to cry, wondering if I would ever see him again.
The nurse rushed to my side and placed her cool hand on my forehead. “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, as tears squeezed out of my eyes. “I think he’s going to leave me.”
She looked dumbstruck at my reason for crying. “Why don’t I give you something for the pain. It’ll help you sleep, okay?”
I nodded. “Please knock me out. I don’t think I can take this.”
She thought I was talking about my wound, but I was talking about my heart.
I woke up, disoriented. I pushed open my eyes through the haze of drugs they had pumped into me. The room was dark. Something big and warm was holding me.
Was I hallucinating?
“Porter?”
Stubbled lips grazed my temple. “Go back to sleep.”
I snuggled back against him. Porter had climbed into my hospital bed, and he was big spooning me. And it felt so damn good.
“Are you still angry?”
A long beat passed. “Anger doesn’t cover it.”
I fought sleep that tried to tug me back under. I had so much to say, but the words in my brain weren’t escaping. Random, weird thoughts flitted around in my head, like fireflies buzzing in circles.
Time did not slow down when I fought. Ask Porter why.
That text wasn’t from me.
What does a liver do?
Did they catch that guy?
Where was Felicia? Did he see her ?
Did someone call Detective Christensen?
Would he stay?
“Please don’t leave,” I mumbled.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Go to sleep.”
And then those fuzzy, buzzing thoughts faded and everything went dark.