36. Huck
HUCK
The first thing I notice is the beeping.
Slow. Steady. Irritating as hell.
Then the smell. Antiseptic, sharp and sterile, the kind of smell that clings to you long after you leave. My tongue feels like sandpaper. My chest aches, heavy, like a truck parked on me.
I crack my eyes open. The ceiling’s too white, with those square panels and fluorescent lights that make everything look flat. For a second, I think I’ve woken up in some military ward again, same routine, same injuries, same story. But then I hear voices. Familiar ones.
“He’s waking up!” Eli’s voice, high and excited.
I turn my head and see them. All of them.
Bailey is in the chair closest to me, her hand wrapped around mine so tight my knuckles ache.
Sean’s in the corner, arms crossed, watching like a hawk.
Wesley’s on the other side, phone in his hand, pretending to check something but really glued to me.
And the kids. Maeve and Eli, wide-eyed, clutching paper in their hands.
I blink. “What’s going on?” My voice comes out rough, gravel in my throat.
“You’re awake,” Bailey whispers, and her eyes shine like she hasn’t breathed until now.
“Not sure that’s a good thing,” I rasp. I shift, and pain lances through my chest. I grunt, biting it back. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”
“Close,” Sean says dryly. “Bullet.”
I let my head fall back against the pillow, sighing. “Oh yeah. How long was I out?”
Wesley checks his phone. “Only about…four days.”
“Jeez. No wonder you guys look like shit. Sitting here, worrying about me?—”
“I wasn’t worried,” Sean lies.
“Me either,” Wes doubles down.
But both of them clearly haven’t slept in four days. The big softies.
Eli bounces closer to the bed, holding out his paper. “Look! I made this for you.”
It takes me a second to focus. It’s a drawing of the Hulk, big and green and muscled, with tattoos sketched all over his chest. My tattoos. Across the top, in bold letters, it says, The Incredible Huck.
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it, tearing at my ribs but worth every stab of pain. “That’s…damn. That’s good, kid. Real good.”
Eli beams, shoving it closer. “It’s you. You’re a superhero now. Mom says you saved her.”
“Superheroes don’t bleed this much,” I mutter, but I can’t stop smiling. I take the paper, staring at it like it’s a treasure. Because it is. “Might have to get this inked on me for real.”
Maeve rolls her eyes. “You’d get a seven-year-old’s doodle tattooed on you?”
“Damn straight. Best art I’ve seen in years.”
Eli giggles. Maeve smirks, shaking her head, but I catch the softness in her eyes. She’s scared. They both are. I can see it in the way they’re hovering too close, in the way Eli keeps reaching out like he’s not sure I’m solid.
“Hey,” I say, my voice low, catching Maeve’s gaze. “Don’t worry. Big guy like me? Takes more than one little hole to put me down.”
“You lost a lot of blood,” she shoots back, sharp.
I grin. “Not my first time.”
Her lips twitch, then she crosses her arms. “I lost a lot of blood too, you know. Last month. But you don’t see me lying in a hospital bed over it. So stop being a baby and get up.”
I bark out a laugh, clutching my side as pain rips through me. “Wow, kid. That’s savage.”
Sean coughs into his fist, but I catch the smirk he’s hiding. Wesley just shakes his head, muttering, “She’s not wrong.”
I wheeze, still laughing even though it hurts. “Alright. Alright. I’ll stop whining.”
I prop the paper against my chest, studying it. Eli’s Hulk has crooked teeth and an arm way bigger than the other, but the tattoos—hell, the kid nailed those. He even scribbled my wolf skull across the shoulder in green marker.
“This is art,” I tell him seriously. “You’re wasted in second grade. Should be apprenticing at a tattoo shop.”
Eli snickers. “You’d really put this on you?”
“Hell yeah. Forearm, maybe. Or right across my back. Big as life. You’ll see it every time I take my shirt off.”
“Ew,” Maeve groans, rolling her eyes so hard I think they might fall out. “Nobody wants to see that.”
“Plenty of people wanna see that,” I shoot back, grinning. “Ask your mom.”
Bailey flushes crimson, swats my arm—the good one—and glares, but she doesn’t let go of my hand. “Don’t you dare put that on me.”
The monitor beside me spikes, beep-beep-beep, tattling on the way my pulse jumps when she touches me. Sean raises an eyebrow from the corner, his version of amusement. Wesley shakes his head like he’s embarrassed for me.
The room eases after that. The air isn’t so heavy. The kids bicker, Wesley and Sean trade looks, Bailey squeezes my hand every few minutes like she’s checking I’m still here. The beeping evens out again. I close my eyes for a moment, the drawing still clutched in my hand.
The Incredible Huck. There are worse nicknames.
Jessica shows up not long after, hovering in the doorway with her purse strapped tight across her chest. She smiles at the kids, then at Bailey, and I see the silent conversation pass between them—time to give us space.
“Alright, troops,” Jessica says, clapping her hands once.
“Let’s go raid the vending machines while Huck rests. ”
Jessica herds them out, and Maeve shoots me a final smirk before vanishing down the hall. The door clicks shut, and the room drops into quiet.
Bailey lingers by the bed, her hand still wrapped around mine. For the first time since I woke, her shoulders sag. She looks tired, worn thin, but her eyes never leave me. “You scared the hell out of me,” she whispers.
“Scared myself too,” I admit. My voice comes out rough, softer than I mean it. “Didn’t plan on catching bullets, but that kind of thing usually happens without a plan.”
Her mouth twitches, like she wants to smile but can’t.
Instead she leans down, her hair falling against my cheek, and kisses me.
Not a gentle kiss. Not a careful one. A kiss that takes the air from my lungs and makes my chest monitor shriek.
The beeping skyrockets, screaming like a tattletale.
My pulse pounds, my head spins, and I don’t care. I kiss her back until I’m dizzy.
When she pulls away, I’m grinning like an idiot. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
Her lips curve into a real smile this time. “You saved me. I already thanked Sean. I already thanked Wesley. Now it’s your turn.”
“Pretty sure that was better than a thank-you,” I mutter, still grinning.
Sean clears his throat from the corner. “Monitors don’t lie.”
“Shut up,” I fire back, cheeks burning.
Wesley just smirks, shaking his head. “You’re pathetic.”
“Worth it,” I say, my voice low, eyes locked on Bailey.
She leans closer again, her forehead brushing mine. My monitor betrays me with another rapid beeping run. I swear the machine’s laughing at me.
Bailey doesn’t pull away this time. She stays close, her forehead resting against mine, her hand squeezing mine until our knuckles are white. Her voice is a whisper, just for me. “You threw yourself in front of me without even thinking. I don’t know how to thank you for that.”
“Already did,” I murmur, still dizzy from her kiss.
“No.” She shakes her head, her eyes shining, her lips so close they brush mine when she speaks. “Not really. And I can’t wait to thank you properly.”
My pulse spikes hard enough the monitor shrieks again. Sean groans from the corner. Wesley mutters something under his breath that sounds like “Jesus Christ.” I don’t care. My grin splits wide across my face.
“I’m ready,” I rasp. My voice is low, gravelly, and it makes her shiver. “Soon as they cut me loose from this bed, I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”
She laughs, a sound that’s half joy, half relief, and kisses me again. Softer this time, but just as good. The monitor tattles on me again, beeping frantically like it’s scandalized.
And that’s when the door swings open.
“Alright, break it up,” the doctor says dryly, striding in with a clipboard. He doesn’t even look surprised. “Your heart can’t take another minute of that.”
Bailey jerks back, cheeks flushing. Sean smirks. Wesley hides his grin behind his hand.
“Doc,” I grumble, glaring at him. “You’re killing my game.”
“Your game is what got you here,” he fires back, flipping through notes. “Bullet wound, blood loss, two transfusions. You’re not going anywhere, and you’re definitely not doing anything strenuous.” He raises an eyebrow, pointed. “And I do mean anything .”
Bailey hides her face in her hands, laughing quietly. My ears burn, but I can’t stop grinning at her. “Fine,” I mutter, settling back against the pillows. “Guess I’ll behave.”
“For once,” Wesley mutters.
Sean shakes his head, amused despite himself.
“David?” I ask.
Wesley grins at the mention of him. “Super fucking arrested. No bail. Too much of a flight risk. They found fake passports for him and the kids in his house. Tickets to Argentina for all three of them. On top of everything else he did at Friedburg’s. And before.”
“It’s over,” Bailey mutters. She lowers her hands and looks at me, her smile soft, her eyes full of something that makes the pain in my chest feel worth it.
She squeezes my hand again. The monitor steadies, the room fills with quiet, and for the first time since the shot tore into me, I let myself close my eyes and breathe.