Chapter 10 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
For a moment, I can’t remember where I am or why my entire body feels like it’s lit on fire. Then, white-hot pain spikes in my side, radiating through my torso, and it comes rushing back.
A hiss of air escapes me, and I realize I’m on the floor— half in Brady Worthington’s arms. I shift to find relief, but the movement is met with a solid pressure keeping me still.
I tip my chin down, and my gaze lands on his red-stained hands clutching my side. His blood-stained hands. My blood… Because someone stabbed me. A deafening ringing fills my ears.
“Hey!” Brady’s rough voice snaps me back into focus.
I know he’s trying to distract me, but the tight line of his jaw and the tension around his eyes don’t match his calm tone. My lids drift shut again.
“Stay with me, Firefly. No naps allowed.”
There’s that nickname again. I should tell him to stop calling me that, but it makes me feel safe, the same way he did that night.
But I don’t trust anyone anymore.
Except I do.
For some unfathomable reason, I trust this man.
Brady shifts his grip, folding the bloody cloth tighter against the wound, and I bite back another hiss of discomfort. The torment swirling in Brady’s eyes makes me feel guilty. This wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t stormed off.
I’m not sure if I’m trying to make him feel better, or if I’m defending myself, but I lick my lips and say, “I tried—”
“I know. I saw. Don’t talk.” The words are so clipped, he sounds like he’s suffering too. “Just stay awake. Stay with me.”
“Are you hurt?”
“What?”
“Did he get you, too?”
Oh god. This is my fault.
He looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “No. I’m okay.”
“Then why do you sound like that? Are you mad at me?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty pissed.”
My brain fuzzes, and I hear myself ask, “Are you going to disappear again?”
I think I hear him say something, but the effort of staying awake is too hard, and I let the darkness have me.
I think I’m in a car. My mind struggles to figure out what’s happening when, from a distance, I hear a woman saying, “Female, thirties, stab wound entry point left lateral torso, mid-abdomen. Bleeding is… “
I don’t like this show; the thought flits across my brain as I let myself drift off to sleep again.
The next time I wake up, a woman is smiling at me as she adjusts an IV in my left hand. My panicked eyes dart around the room.
Questions tumble through me, making the heart rate monitor beep rapidly.
How long was I out? Am I okay? Where’s Brady?
Almost as if she can read my mind, the nurse presses a reassuring hand to mine. “Don’t stress, honey. It’s the medicine that’s making you so sleepy. You’re okay, and your husband is right over there.”
My what?