Chapter Six #2
I sprint down the hall and slam my fist on the bathroom door. “Eli! Talk to me, sweetheart!”
Nothing.
I twist the handle. Locked.
“Oh God, no.”
I don’t think. I ram my shoulder into the bathroom door, full force. It bursts open, splintering at the latch…and my whole world stops.
Eli’s on the tile. Naked body curled slightly.
Water from the shower is spraying half on him, half on the wall.
He’s still. So damn still.
“Eli!” I drop to my knees beside him, hands shaking as I try to turn him toward me. His skin is cold from the freezing water, and his body’s limp. Completely limp. “Come on, baby. Wake up. Come on.”
My breath is coming too fast. Too loud. I can’t think around the roar in my ears.
Behind me, Knuckles’ voice snaps, “Ambulance is on the way… You think he just passed out again?”
“I don’t know,” I mutter, grabbing the worn robe off the hook and killing the shower water.
My hands won’t stop shaking.
“It’s possible,” I say, forcing myself to breathe. “But every other time he’s gone down, he woke up in under a minute. That woman said his alarm’s been going off for over an hour.”
I press my fingers to his neck.
Nothing.
Move to his wrist.
Nothing again.
My chest caves in.
“Brother,” Knuckles says firmly. “Calm the fuck down and focus.”
“I can’t feel his pulse, Knucks,” I choke out. “I think he’s dead. I didn’t even get the chance to—”
“Focus,” he cuts in, sharp. “Look at his chest. He’s breathing. Nice and slow. He’s right here, man. You’re panicking so hard you can’t feel shit.”
He’s right. My own pulse is thundering in my ears like a damn train. Everything’s vibrating. I can’t tell what’s him and what’s me.
I shut my eyes, suck in a few deep breaths, and try again.
And there it is. His pulse beating steadily beneath my fingers.
“Fuck,” I mutter, the relief hitting me so hard it makes me dizzy. He’s pale and soaking wet, but his chest is rising and falling like he’s just sleeping.
I lay my hand on his chest, matching my breath to his because it’s the only thing keeping me from coming apart.
“Fuck,” I breathe. “Pretty boy, I need you to open your eyes for me.”
Nothing.
Not even a twitch.
“EMS is here, brother,” Knuckles says from the doorway. “There ain’t enough room in there for them.”
“I’ll carry him out,” I say immediately, pushing to my feet.
“Don’t move him,” someone barks from behind Knuckles…a paramedic squeezes into the narrow space. “If he fell, he could’ve hurt his neck or back. We need to check him before anybody picks him up.”
I freeze mid-reach, every muscle locked tight.
“He’s been out God knows how long,” I snap. “I’m not just leaving him on the floor while we talk about it.”
The paramedic holds up his hands, calm but firm. “Sir, I get it. Let us do our job. We’ll get him out of here, but we need to make sure he’s safe to move first, alright?”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches, but I back off a few inches…just enough for them to squeeze in.
Knuckles grips my shoulder. “Skip. Let ’em work.”
I nod, but it’s barely a nod. My whole body is strung tight. I focus again on Eli’s chest, only taking a breath each time he does, as if my very will is what’s keeping his lungs working.
The paramedics kneel beside him, checking his neck, shining a light in his eyes, talking low to each other.
“Pulse is steady,” one of them says. “Breathing looks good. He’s just unresponsive.”
Just?
Like that makes any of this better.
They slide a stabilizer behind his neck and start shifting him onto a board.
The second they lift him, I step forward, hands out.
“I’m riding with him,” I say. Not a question. Not a request. A fact.
The paramedic doesn’t argue. “That’s fine. We’ll get him downstairs and into the rig. Stay close.”
Like I’m gonna be anywhere else.
“Tell Spike I’ll be back once Eli’s awake and ready to leave,” I call out over my shoulder as the paramedics start wheeling Eli toward the door. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. Barely.
“Yeah, fucking right, brother,” Knuckles fires back. “We’ll meet you there.”
I follow the stretcher down the hallway, ignoring the neighbors gawking out their doors like vultures waiting for something to fall over dead.
“Show’s over,” I snap at them, voice low and mean. “Get back inside.”
Doors slam shut real quick after that.
The paramedics maneuver the stretcher into the elevator, and I’m inside before the doors even finish opening. Eli looks too small on that damn board, too pale, too quiet.
Not okay.
I lean down, close enough that my breath brushes his ear.
“I’m right here, pretty boy. You’re not alone. Not for a damn second.”
His eyelashes don’t even twitch.
The elevator doors slide closed, sealing us in this buzzing metal box, and for a heartbeat, the world goes still.
Knuckles’ voice echoes faintly from the hall as the doors shut:
“We’re right behind you, Skip.”
Yeah. I know.
And for the first time since I kicked in that door, some of the tightness in my chest eases just a little.
Because Eli’s an official Shadow.
He’s mine…a fact that I will make perfectly fucking clear the second his pretty brown eyes open.
And because he’s mine…that makes him ours.
And the Shadows don’t let their people fall without reaching out to catch them.
***
When we reach the hospital, they ask for Eli’s name, slap a wristband on him, and then whisk him away with orders for me to sit in the waiting room and… fucking… wait.
That was two hours ago.
“You really should be home,” I tell Spike, dragging my hands through my hair. “Your wife and son need you with them.”
“My wife and son are fast asleep and perfectly safe,” he says, accepting the coffee Foster hands out. “Right now, you need me. Don’t fucking argue.”
I roll my eyes but take my own coffee anyway, gripping the cup so hard the lid creaks. My glare flicks back to the double doors like I can will them to open.
“Want me to go get some answers?” Maverick asks as he strolls in.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. “I thought you left town.”
“Just got back when I heard the news,” he says. “I have contacts in this hospital. I can find out about your man.”
He has contacts here?
Normally, I’d jump all over that…poke at him and try to unravel one of the many secrets he holds so tightly to. Right now? I don’t give a single damn about his mysterious bullshit.
Before I can even respond, someone else steps into the doorway.
“Family of Mr. Waddell?”
Bout fucking time.
“We’re his family,” Spike says immediately. “How’s he doing?”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor replies, “but I can only give information to actual family members.”
“I’m his fucking husband,” I say, the lie sliding out smooth as butter.
The doctor blinks. “I wasn’t aware Mr. Waddell was married.”
“They married last week,” Foster says without missing a beat. “And it’s Mr. Bryant now.”
Mr. Bryant.
Fuck… that sounds good. Too good.
“How is my husband?” I demand. “I’ve been sitting out here for hours with no updates.”
“My apologies,” the doctor says, and he actually looks sorry. “Your husband is okay. He’s starting to wake up.”
“What?” My voice cracks like a gunshot. “Why the hell didn’t you start with that? Take me to him. Right now.”
He nods and turns, and we follow him down the hall.
Only when he glances back and sees the entire club trailing behind does he stop.
“I’m sorry, I can’t allow all of you in the room.”
“You guys head home,” I start to say. “I’ll contact you when I have answers.”
Spike snorts. “Like hell. You go in there and be with Eli. We’ll wait right here.”
I shake my head, knowing there’s no arguing with him. With any of them.
Then I turn and follow the doctor, my heart hammering so loud I’m surprised it doesn’t echo down the hallway.
Eli’s awake.
He’s alive.
And I’m about to see him.
God help me.
Because I don’t know if I’m about to hug him or yell at him or drop to my knees beside his bed and fall apart completely.
The second we step inside, and I see him…groggy, blinking slow like his eyelids weigh a hundred pounds…I’m already moving. I’m at his bedside before the door even clicks shut.
“Sweetheart,” I breathe out as I drop into the chair, grabbing his hand with both of mine. “How are you feeling?”
He squints at me. “Skip?”
His voice is small, confused.
“What’s… what’s going on? Why am I in a hospital?”
“You passed out again,” I tell him gently. “Except this time, you didn’t wake up.”
Eli looks from me to the doctor and then lets out a long, miserable sigh, tossing his head back against the pillow.
“That hasn’t happened in a very long time,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask, heart already climbing up my damn throat. “Something like this has happened before?”
The doctor glances between us. “Would you like me to explain it to your husband?”
Eli’s eyes go wide. “My husband?” He bolts upright, then immediately goes pale, his head tilting sideways before he collapses back against the bed.
“Don’t fucking do that, baby,” I growl, grabbing him and fixing the blanket around him like he’s fragile glass. “You hurt your head when you fell.”
“I did?” he whispers, reaching up with shaky fingers to touch the bandage.
“Luckily, there’s no internal damage,” the doctor says. “You must’ve protected your head when you fell.”
Eli blinks up at the ceiling. “I don’t… I don’t remember falling.”
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, brushing strands of hair off his forehead, “you scared the absolute shit out of me anyway.”
He turns his face toward me, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Skip… I’m sorry. I haven’t gone down like that in a long time. I thought I was passed that stage in this freaking disorder.”
“Eli,” I interrupt, leaning closer, locking onto his eyes so he can’t drift away again. “The only thing I need from you right now is to stay awake and breathing. Can you do that?”
He gives the tiniest nod.
The doctor clears his throat. “If you’d like, I can explain what we believe happened tonight.”
I squeeze Eli’s hand before looking at him.