Chapter 83
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Harper
An entire day of sitting by his bedside.
They've started reducing the sedatives and got him breathing on his own. They're going to bring him around.
I haven't let go of his hand. I refuse to.
Well, except for the couple of times I had to pee, because apparently growing a human means your bladder runs the show now.
I keep talking to him. About anything and everything.
I've told him about the vacations we need to take.
The fact that I need him to go and blow up a beach house in LA that I now own.
The fact that our baby is the size of a peach this week.
"A peach, Ace," I told him this morning, holding his hand against my bump. "You're going to lose your mind over that one. I already know it."
His hand twitches in mine, and I nearly jump out of my chair.
His head rolls from side to side, and he groans. I run to the door, shouting for anyone. A doctor, preferably.
His brothers rush in behind me, followed by the doctor.
"Harper," Ace croaks. I hardly recognize his voice. But it’s his, that’s all that matters to me.
The machines beep beside him. I watch his heart rate climb on the monitor, so I grab his hand and squeeze.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here," I tell him, loud enough to make sure he hears it.
His eyes flutter open; he’s fighting himself to come back.
His brown eyes are glassy and unfocused, drifting around the room until they find me.
And he smiles. Swollen face, split lip, tube marks, and the man still manages that grin.
"There's my Goldie," he slurs.
The whole room exhales, and all of my broken pieces start to fit back together again.
The doctor moves in, checking his pupils with a penlight. "Mr. Sterling, can you tell me where you are?"
Ace squints at him and considers the question with the deep seriousness of a very drunk man.
"Heaven," he says. Then frowns. "No. Wait. There's a doctor. Heaven wouldn't need doctors." He looks at me. "Am I dead, baby? You look like an angel. That's confusin' the hell outta me."
"You're not dead, Ace." I'm laughing and crying at the same time. "You're in the hospital."
"Hospital." He nods slowly. "Where? Are we safe?"
"Gianna's sorted that."
"The scary Italian lady?" His eyes go wide. "Did we win?"
Colten snorts from the corner. "Yeah, bro. We won."
I’m not sure that was winning. Ace being kidnapped and stabbed. An alliance with Gianna Milano, which involves a wedding.
But I guess they did win. Ace is alive. Our baby is fine, and Sterling Ranch remains untouched.
"Hell yeah, we did." Ace tries to raise his fist for emphasis, and the IV line tugs, and he stares at his own arm as if it's betrayed him. "Why's my arm got spaghetti on it?"
"That's your IV, Mr. Sterling," the doctor says patiently. "Please don't pull on it."
Ace growls, and I try so hard not to laugh.
"It's my spaghetti arm, I'll do what I—" He stops. His eyes drift down to my stomach. And everything in his face changes. The fog burns off all at once. "The baby."
"The baby's fine," I say quickly, pressing his hand to my bump before his heart rate spikes. "Perfect. Strong heartbeat. The size of a peach this week."
He stares at my stomach. Then at me. Then back at my stomach.
"A peach," he repeats. "We grew a peach."
"We did," I say with the biggest smile on my face.
"That's the best fruit." His eyes are welling up. "Harper. That's the best fruit. Our kid is already winnin'."
Jett loses it completely in the corner. Even Hunter is wiping his eyes and pretending he isn't.
The doctor checks the monitors. "He'll be like this for a few hours while the sedation wears off. This is all normal. Heart rate is good. Responses are good. He's a very lucky man."
"Ain't luck." Ace's thumb strokes the curve of my bump. His eyes are already getting heavy again, but he's fighting it, holding onto me with his gaze the way he holds everything in life, past the point anyone else would let go. "I heard her. She brought me back here."
"Heard what, baby?"
"Countin'." His lids drop, but the grin stays. "Eight seconds. Heard you the whole time, Goldie. Just kept... gettin' back on until I came back."
His breathing deepens. His hand goes slack on my stomach, but it stays there, even in sleep, covering our peach baby.
I lean down and press my lips to his forehead.
"Welcome home, cowboy. I love you more than life itself," I whisper.
Behind me, Jett’s blowing his nose like a trumpet. "I'm naming the baby's first pony. I've earned it."
"You absolutely have not," Colten says.
With that, the room is full of the sound I love most in the world.
The Sterlings, laughing.
Everything is finally going to be okay.