Chapter 19 – Shane
I hurt all over, but mostly my abdomen. My body feels like it’s weighted down with lead. My limbs are useless. My brain feels like it’s drowning in quicksand. None of this makes any sense.
Where the hell am I, what am I doing here, and why does my wife look like she’s about to cry?
Beth has a death grip on my hand.
When I look at her, I feel an overwhelming sense of unease. “Are you hurt?” My voice comes out in a dry croak.
“No, Shane, I’m fine.”
I attempt to shift my position in the bed, but the slightest movement is agonizing, and I grimace in pain.
“Don’t move, sweetheart,” Beth says a bit frantically as she grips my shoulder in an attempt to keep me in place. “Just lie still.”
“Where am I? What happened?”
“You’re at Northwestern,” Cooper says. “In the ICU. You don’t remember what happened?”
I try to shake my head, but even that small movement hurts. “No.”
I notice tears pooling in Beth’s eyes, and when I try to squeeze her hand to reassure her, I don’t even have the strength to do that. I’m shaky and weak.
There’s a beeping sound, and then the black cuff around my right arm tightens. There’s an IV in my left arm. “I’m in the hospital?”
“Yes,” Beth says.
I glance down at my torso and spot the edge of a bandage peeking out from beneath the bed sheet.
“It’s all right, honey,” Beth says as she gently brushes my hair back. “Just relax. Everything’s going to be all right.”
My eyes grow heavy, and I’m having trouble keeping them open. “You’re all right?” I ask her. There’s a niggling thought in my head that she might have gotten hurt. “You’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine.” She gives me a teary-eyed smile. “Just rest, please.”
* * *
I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes again, Beth is reclining in a chair beside my bed, fast asleep. I scan the room and spot Cooper sitting on a sofa reading The Chicago Tribune.
When he notices my eyes on him, he lays the newspaper down and rises to walk over to the bed. “Hey,” he says quietly, probably not wanting to wake Beth. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit. I feel groggy and weak. How long was I out?”
“About forty-eight hours post surgery.”
“Surgery? What for? I guess that explains the bandages and why my gut hurts like hell.”
“You had two operations, actually. The first one was to repair damage to your spleen and repair a nicked vein.”
“And the second one?”
“When you were in recovery, your blood pressure started dropping. Turns out, there was still some internal bleeding. They missed a nicked vein that needed to be stitched up.”
I glance at Beth, who’s still sleeping. “And she’s really okay?”
“She’s fine, just anxious about your recovery. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I can’t shake the feeling she’s in danger, or that she could have been hurt. Cooper, what the hell happened?”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“No. Nothing. Right now, my brain feels like mush. I’m lucky to remember my own name.”
“When you arrived at the psych hospital for a hearing, Andrew pulled a gun on Beth, intending to shoot her. You stepped between them, and Andrew shot you instead.”
“Shit.” I’m feeling pretty dazed at the moment. “What happened to Andrew?”
“He’s dead.”
“How?”
“Tyler shot him. Andrew was about to take another shot at Beth when Tyler fired three rounds into his chest.”
“Seriously? Andrew’s dead?”
“Yep.”
A wave of relief floods through me. Andrew can’t ever hurt Beth again.
A soft sound alerts me to the fact Beth’s awake. As I glance over at her, she’s sitting upright on the recliner. The smile she gives me is everything.
She’s safe.
That’s all that matters.
I can’t take my eyes off of her, and her gaze is locked on mine. There’s so much we need to talk about, so much we need to say.
Before I can ask her anything, a nurse comes in to check on me, followed by a physician, who introduces herself as Dr. Markowski. She says she’s pleased with the progress I’m making.
“Today, we’ll see how you do with water. Tomorrow morning, we’ll try you on a clear liquid diet.”
I shift my position, wincing at the pain.
“Try not to move,” the doctor says. “We don’t want those sutures coming loose. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes. When can you remove the catheter?”
She chuckles. “Not just yet.”
When Cooper returns to the room, he’s not alone. My parents follow him in.
Mom sucks in a breath when she sees me and immediately bursts into tears.
My dad pulls her into his arms. “It’s okay, Bridge. The boy’s going to be okay.”
The boy? I smile. I’m thirty-eight years old, hardly a boy.
I notice Cooper having a quiet conversation with Beth as he hands her a carry-out box. “Grilled chicken nuggets and some mashed potatoes.” He hands her a coffee cup. “Decaf caramel vanilla.”
“Thanks.” She takes the box from him, sits on the sofa, and begins picking at the food.
When Beth is anxious, she loses her appetite. I’m sure the past couple of days have been harrowing for her.
Throughout the day, my siblings come to see me, one at a time. My brothers are stoic, cracking jokes about me trying to hog all the attention and get out of work. My sisters, at least two of them, try not to cry as they tell me how much they love me.
Lia and Jonah walk into my room, and the first words out of my youngest sister’s mouth do not disappoint. “Such a drama queen.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you done now?”
I’m exhausted after visiting with my family. After everyone is gone, Beth turns down the lights and sits beside my bed, holding my hand. I still feel sluggish, my limbs heavy and not cooperating. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.
“Go to sleep,” Beth says, and then she leans close and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
“First, I need you to tell me something.” My memories are still spotty. I remember bits and pieces, images mostly, and sounds.
“Anything. What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what happened. Cooper gave me the short version, but I want to hear it from you. I remember getting out of the car and walking around to the passenger side. I remember seeing Andrew get out of his father’s car. I was running and yelling. That’s all I can remember.”
She squeezes my hand. “The Mortons were parked three spots away from our car. As I opened my car door and stepped out, Andrew got out of the back seat of his father’s car.
He pulled a gun and pointed it at me. He yelled something at me—something about him making me pay for ruining his life.
You came around the back of the car, saw him, and yelled no.
You told him to drop the gun, and when he didn’t, you stepped between us. ”
Beth stares into my eyes, her own tearing up. “You saved my life, Shane. He fired and hit you instead.”
I reach out to touch her cheek, brushing my thumb over her soft skin. “I would have done anything to protect you.” I frown, realizing how damn close I came that day to losing the love of my life. “Cooper said Tyler killed Andrew.”
She nods. “Tyler came around the back of the Jaguar just as you were hit. You fell at my feet, and Andrew was about to take another shot at me when Tyler fired, hitting Andrew square in the chest. I think Andrew died instantly. He never moved after hitting the ground. I remember hearing his mother screaming hysterically.”
“Where is Tyler?”
“I think he’s at the police station giving a statement.”
“Surely, they’re not charging him over the shooting.”
“They’re not. It’s already been ruled as self-defense.
They just wanted a statement from him. I heard the Mortons tried to bring wrongful death charges against Tyler, but their demands didn’t go anywhere.
The city prosecutor assigned to the case declined to press charges.
There are cameras in the parking garage that recorded the entire event. It’s very cut and dry.”
Beth has been through hell—we both have. “I really want to go home,” I say.
She nods. “Soon.”
“I want to lie in my own bed with my wife in my arms. Is that too much to ask?”
She leans in to kiss me, her lips soft and gentle on mine, as if she’s afraid she’ll hurt me. When she runs her fingers through my hair, I groan.
“Rest now,” she says.
I nod. “I need to see Tyler.”
She brushes my hair back. “I’ll let him know. Sleep now.”