CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Sheila's boots squeaked against the polished linoleum floor as she burst through the hospital doors, the smell of disinfectant assaulting her nostrils.
She barely registered the startled looks from nurses and patients as she barreled toward the reception desk. The exhaustion from her fight with Einar seemed to evaporate, replaced by a surge of adrenaline that made her hands shake.
"Finn Mercer," she said, her voice raw and unfamiliar to her own ears. "Gunshot wound. Where is he?"
The receptionist, a young woman with kind eyes and hair pulled back in a tight bun, looked up at Sheila. For a moment, Sheila saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes—perhaps she'd seen the news about the shootout in the dunes. The woman's fingers flew across her keyboard, the soft clacking a counterpoint to the pounding in Sheila's head.
"Mr. Mercer is out of surgery," the receptionist said, her voice gentle. "He's in recovery now, Room 305."
Sheila was already moving before the woman finished speaking. She ignored the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time, her lungs burning with each breath. As she reached the third floor, a wave of dizziness washed over her. She steadied herself against the wall, suddenly aware of the ache in her muscles, the throbbing pain where Einar had struck her head.
Hang in there, she told herself. Don't pass out now.
She shook it off, pushing herself forward. Room 305 loomed ahead, its door slightly ajar. Just as she reached for the handle, a hand caught her arm. Sheila whirled, her cop instincts kicking in, ready to defend herself.
A doctor stood there, his face a mask of professional concern beneath his surgical cap. "I'm sorry, Sheriff," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Mr. Mercer needs rest. We can't allow visitors right now."
Sheila felt a flash of frustration, quickly followed by a pang of guilt. Of course, Finn needed rest. She was being selfish, letting her fear override her common sense. She opened her mouth to apologize, to ask when she could come back, when a weak voice called out from behind the doctor.
"Let her in, Doc. Please."
The doctor hesitated, his eyes darting between Sheila and the partially open door. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Five minutes," he said, stepping aside.
Sheila's heart leapt into her throat as she entered the room. The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the air, a reassuring rhythm that told her Finn was alive, that she hadn't lost him. He lay on the bed, his skin pale but his eyes open and alert.
A wave of relief hit her so hard it made her knees weak.
"Hey, partner," Finn said, a ghost of his usual smirk tugging at his lips.
Sheila moved to his bedside, her legs feeling like lead. She reached for his hand, noticing how small and fragile it looked against the hospital blanket. "Hey yourself," she managed, her voice thick with emotion. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"
Finn's fingers tightened around hers. "Sorry about that. Didn't mean to cut our desert adventure short."
A laugh bubbled up in Sheila's chest, surprising her. It came out as a half-sob, the sound raw and unfamiliar. "Damn it, Finn, I thought I might lose you. When I saw you go down..." She trailed off, the memory of Finn collapsing in the sand still too fresh, too painful.
"Takes more than a bullet to get rid of me," Finn said, his attempt at humor undermined by the wince that followed.
Sheila's eyes darted to the bandages visible beneath his hospital gown. "How bad is it?" she asked, dreading the answer.
Finn shrugged. "Doc says I'll live. Bullet missed anything vital. I'll be back to chasing bad guys in no time."
Sheila nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The beeping of the heart monitor filled the silence between them, a constant reminder of how close she'd come to losing her partner, her friend, her…
She pushed the thought aside, not ready to confront the complicated tangle of emotions that word brought up.
"Finn, I'm sorry," she said finally, the words tumbling out in a rush. "For everything. For bossing you around, for not listening, for pushing you away. I thought if I could just do everything perfectly, make all the right calls, I could keep it all together. But I've been an idiot."
Finn's eyes softened. "Hey, you're not the only idiot here," he said. "I'm sorry too. I should have respected your position more. You're the Sheriff now, and that means something. I just... I guess I was afraid of losing what we had. Of losing you."
The last words hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Sheila felt her heart skip a beat. "You haven't lost me," she said softly. "We haven't lost anything. We're just... adjusting. But we'll figure it out. Together. That is… assuming it's really what you want."
She waited, her heart thumping against her ribcage.
"You mean the transfer?" he asked. He chuckled dryly. "I was frustrated, not thinking straight. Working with—not to mention working for —the same person I'm in love with may be complicated, but that doesn't mean it's not worth it. This journey we're on together… I wouldn't trade it for the world."
Sheila leaned down and kissed him on the lips. They were still kissing when they were interrupted by a commotion in the hallway—raised voices, the sound of running feet. Sheila pulled away from Finn, her hand instinctively moving to where her gun should be. But before she could react, the door burst open.
Star stood in the doorway, her face flushed and her eyes wild. A harried-looking nurse hovered behind her, saying something about visiting hours and family only. Star had clearly ignored her in her rush to find them. She took in the scene before her—Finn in the hospital bed, Sheila at his side, their hands still clasped together—and seemed to deflate slightly.
"Finn!" she exclaimed, rushing to the bedside. "Are you okay? What happened? They said on the news there was a shootout in the dunes, and I couldn't reach either of you, and I thought..." She trailed off. She seemed to be trying hard to compose herself, to mask her feelings as she usually did.
Sheila met the nurse's gaze and gave a small nod. The nurse sighed heavily and retreated.
"Hey, kiddo," Finn said to Star, his voice gentle. "I'm okay. Just a little scratch."
"How did you get here?" Sheila asked, suddenly realizing she hadn't called Star herself. The guilt hit her like a physical blow—she'd been so focused on Finn, she'd forgotten about the teenager who depended on them.
"Mrs. Jacobs saw it on the news," Star explained, her voice small. "She was helping me with my history paper when it came on the TV. She drove me here right away—didn't even let me argue about it. Said that's what family does for each other." Star's voice caught slightly on the word 'family,' as if surprised by Mrs. Jacobs' declaration.
Sheila felt a surge of gratitude toward their neighbor. Not just for bringing Star, but for understanding exactly what Star needed to hear in that moment. "I'm sorry, Star," she said. "I should have called you. I wasn't thinking straight."
Star shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but Sheila could see the hurt in her eyes. "It's okay. I get it. Finn was hurt, you had to focus on that."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Sheila watched as Star fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her eyes darting between Finn and Sheila. She could almost see the gears turning in the girl's head, trying to figure out where she fit in this tableau.
Finally, Star spoke. "So, um... I know you guys probably have a lot of police stuff to talk about, but... maybe when Finn's feeling better, we could all do something together? Like, I don't know, have a movie night with lots of pizza?"
The hopeful note in Star's voice made Sheila's heart ache. She exchanged a glance with Finn, seeing her own emotions reflected in his eyes.
"What do you think, Finn?" Sheila asked, smiling. "Up for a movie night once you're out of here?"
Finn nodded, wincing slightly at the movement. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. Maybe we could watch that new sci-fi flick... what's it called? 'Nebula Rising'?"
Star's face lit up. "Yes! That's the one I've been wanting to see! It's got that actress from 'Quantum Leap' in it, and the special effects are supposed to be amazing!"
As Star launched into an enthusiastic description of the movie's plot, Sheila felt some of the tension drain from her body. They were okay. Battered and bruised, maybe, but alive. Together.
The moment was interrupted by the return of the doctor, who tapped his watch meaningfully. Sheila stood up, her body protesting the movement. "We should let you rest," she said to Finn. "I'll drive Star home."
Finn nodded, his eyes already starting to droop. "Thanks, partner," he murmured. "For everything."
Sheila squeezed his hand one last time before gently letting go. She ushered Star out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. For a moment, she leaned against the wall as the events of the past few days caught up with her.
Star stood silently beside her. When Sheila finally looked at her, she saw a mixture of worry and uncertainty in the girl's eyes.
"He's going to be okay, right?" Star asked, her voice small.
Sheila nodded, forcing a smile. "Finn's tough. He'll be back on his feet before we know it."
But her voice shook slightly. Seeing Finn hurt had shattered her careful professional distance, reminded her viscerally of how much she needed him—not just as a deputy, but as her partner in every sense. The thought of losing him made her physically ill. She'd been so worried about being a good sheriff that she'd forgotten how to be a good partner, a good guardian to Star, a good member of this fragile family they were building.
They walked in silence to the elevator, the hustle and bustle of the hospital fading into background noise. As they waited for the doors to open, Sheila felt the weight of Star's unasked questions.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you," Sheila said. "Everything happened so fast, and I just... I wasn't thinking straight."
Star shrugged, but Sheila could see the hurt beneath her attempted nonchalance. "It's okay. I get it. Finn's your partner."
"Hey," Sheila said, turning to face Star fully. "You're important too. You're part of this family, Star. Don't ever doubt that."
The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and they stepped inside. As the doors closed, Star spoke again. "I was really scared," she admitted. "When I heard about the shooting on the news, I thought... I thought I might lose you both."
Sheila felt a lump form in her throat. She wrapped an arm around Star's shoulders, pulling her close. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. But we're okay. We're all okay."
As they exited the elevator and made their way through the lobby, Sheila found herself reflecting on the night's events. The confrontation with Einar, the fear of losing Finn, the realization of how much Star depended on them both—it all swirled in her mind, leaving her feeling both exhausted and oddly invigorated.
"You know," she said as they approached the hospital exit, "I think that movie night idea of yours is exactly what we need. Something normal, something to bring us all together."
Star's face lit up. "Really? You mean it?"
Sheila nodded, smiling. "Absolutely. As soon as Finn's out of here, we'll make it happen. Maybe we can even convince him to try that vegan pizza place you've been wanting to check out."
Star laughed, the sound lifting some of the heaviness from Sheila's heart. "Now that I've got to see. Finn eating vegan pizza? That'll be better than any movie."
Just as they neared the exit, a familiar voice called out behind them. "Sheriff Stone!"
Sheila turned to see Dr. Reeves, the nurse she had spoken with after arresting Eddie Mills, hurrying toward them. "Dr. Reeves," she said, trying to summon a smile. "How are you?"
"I'm well, thank you," Dr. Reeves replied. "Have you had a chance to see him yet?"
Sheila nodded, assuming she was referring to Finn. "Yes, I just left him. My partner seems to be doing well, all things considered."
Dr. Reeves looked confused. "Partner? Oh, no, I wasn't talking about... Sheriff, I meant Eddie Mills. He just woke up."