Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Something wakes me. An awareness. A tingle causing my skin to goosebump.
I sit up quickly, causing the horrible vinyl chair to creak.
After Truck told me about my research partner’s medical condition following an earthquake, all of my energy drained out.
Heart aching, I push my hair back. A shiver follows.
I fold my arms tighter.
Antiseptic lingers in the air, a cool breeze from the air-conditioner feathering down from the ceiling.
For a few seconds, my mind is too hazy to put the scene together, then it all crashes into place, and the horrible sight of Axle bleeding on the floor makes my stomach clench.
Arriving at the hospital was chaotic.
The medical team was dealing with Axle, but almost as alarmed at Truck’s appearance.
It takes a few seconds to find my voice through the river of emotion blocking my throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall?—”
A sweet-faced older nurse makes the shhhh sign.
Oops.
“He fell asleep too,” she whispers.
Truck is flat out on his back, shirtless with his thick planes of muscle on display. His face is turned away from me, his boot-covered feet hanging off at least a foot off of the stretcher.
“I cleaned and bandaged as many of his wounds as I could. That boy was a mess.”
Emotion slams down like an anvil.
My throat is achingly tight, all I can do is nod.
“You must be Hope.”
I blink at her, a pain dropping from my throat to my heart. “I’m sorry?”
Sorry? Why did I say that?
She must see my confusion. Or maybe she thinks it’s the exhaustion. Because it’s both.
How does she know about Hope?
“Your name is tattooed on the back of his shoulder.”
Oh. “Oh. Um. You know…”
I have no clue what to say. Hope was his fiancée.
But I am not telling this woman that Hope is dead and that I didn’t even realize the word Hope was tattooed on the back of his shoulder.
How did I miss that?
Regardless, it doesn’t stop the effect of this revelation.
There’s a vicious sting in my heart. Not for myself. For him. For whatever tragedy has befallen this strong, brave, protective man. For whatever happened between him and his twin brother that is tangled up with her memory.
“It’s a lovely name,” she goes on, her voice soft so she doesn’t disturb the sleeping SEAL. “I almost named my daughter that.”
At a complete loss for words, I hug myself, wishing I’d asked for a blanket. If ever I needed to feel warm and swaddled, it’s now.
A few seconds later, I’m saved from the awkwardness of the moment when the door swings open.
The surprise is unsettling.
My nerves are raw after everything that’s happened—I have to fight the urge to grab the nearest heavy object. Which unfortunately is a biohazard trash can.
But an older man has walked into the room and looks around. Unassuming and unthreatening. His brown and gray uniform seems like something a tradesman would wear. There’s a bulky vinyl case in his arms and a kind expression on his face.
“There you are,” the nurse murmurs happily.
“Where do you want this?” His voice stays low as if he’s used to working around sick and injured people.
She points. “Over there, dear.”
The man throws a wink to her, clearly smitten, and proceeds to open the case which magically turns into a pop-out sleeping cot of some kind. When he walks quietly from the room, I find the nurse holding up a blanket and pillow. “That’s for you, dear. I heard you’ve had a terrible day.”
I almost burst into tears. The act of kindness is overwhelming.
I’m so wrung out, I have no control of my reaction, and don’t even have any idea what day it is. “Can we stay?”
“Absolutely. His brother is still in surgery. We don’t need this room for anything right now. It’s a quiet night here, which is rare. Let your man sleep, he was exhausted to the bone. I heard he had an infection recently, so the doctor gave him some extra antibiotics.”
This feels like a miraculous development. A balm to many wounds on my heart. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
Her eyes soften in an expression of compassion that she uses often, settling into place. “You lie down here, and I’ll wake you up if I hear anything.”
Relief is sweet like honey in warm tea.
I want to throw my arms around her and melt at her kindness. “This is the nicest thing.”
Wearing a knowing expression, she eyes me, clearly seeing how spent I am.
Quietly, the woman moves across the room. A warm, strong arm loops around me, gently giving me a hug as she guides me to the cot.
Is this what it’s like to have a mother?
Another ache unfolds, splitting open inside of my heart. Only this one is for me.
I never knew a mother’s love, and now… now I don’t even know if the man who said he is my father is really related.
The nurse gently pulls my attention back with her soft voice. “Everything will be better after some sleep. I’ll bring some food and leave it on the counter for when you two wake.”
There are pretzeled intestines from hours of stress that might interfere with that plan. I’m not sure if I can eat, but I keep that to myself. Something tells me the woman would make me see the doctor if I told her how queasy I feel.
After settling me, she stops next to the door, looking over the room to make sure all is in order. “The guy with the nice smile is standing guard outside the door with a big gun, so you’re safe.”
I’m already sliding down to lie on my side when she walks out, turning the lights dim as she goes. Across the room from me, the steady rhythm of Truck’s breathing is like a balm to my nerves.
I stay that way until I wake with a warm body next to me.