Chapter Thirty-Two
Marietta Regional Hospital
“I don’t want any more fucking pain meds.” Sam winced because she felt bad for swearing at the nurse, but, by God, she was going absolutely insane.
And all the shit they were pumping her full of didn’t allow her to think clearly or rationally.
“Sam, everyone is just trying to help.”
Sam glared at Aly, who’d insisted on being in her room since she’d come out of surgery.
Surgery. It still galled her that Mathews had gotten a shot off. That her arm was going to be out of commission for weeks. All because of that little turd.
And if she thought about how mad she was, she didn’t worry about where Nate was or why it was taking so long for Cal to get him out.
She did feel bad for taking it out on the nurse, but luckily Aly had taken over, talking to the nurse in low tones and gently coaxing her out of the room so it was just Sam and her fuzzy, medicated brain, a vague pain, and her thoughts.
They’d arrested Mathews. There’d be no sneaking his way out of this one. Sam and Olivia were witnesses, as were Jake, Cal, and Jill. And the pocketknife that had been used as evidence was proven to be the pocketknife that had been in police custody since last year.
Brian Mathews had walked himself right into a lifetime sentence.
Sam hated knowing that she’d once considered him a harmless informant.
Maybe he had been, but something had warped and changed inside of him.
And if he hadn’t been so fucking stupid, if he’d hightailed it out of Marietta right after Nate had been arrested, what would have happened? What more would Nate have suffered?
The thought of it nearly killed her.
God, she hoped Brian Mathews rotted.
And where was Nate? Cal had gone to deal with the legalities. Pick him up from the jail. Once Jake processed Mathews, he’d help smooth over any last kinks.
Sam still didn’t know how to feel about Jake. So he hadn’t purposefully put Nate behind bars, but Mathews had talked about how easy he’d been to fool. And that was Jake’s own fault. Not because he was bad at his job or unprepared, but because emotion had gotten in the way of real policework.
And yet she knew that Jake valued the truth enough to keep seeking it out. Even when he’d been sure Nate had done it, he’d looked into the things that hadn’t added up, and if he hadn’t done that … well, she’d probably be dead.
Maybe Cal and Jill would have gotten to her in time thanks to the phone location.
It was possible, but it would have been a lot more complicated without a police force behind them.
She might have lost more blood. Mathews might have gotten off another shot.
So many terrible potential outcomes without Jake’s help.
Still, she didn’t really feel all that grateful to him. If he hadn’t been such an asshole, hating Nate for no good reason, she wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place.
And where was Nate?
Aly bustled back in. “They’re going to try to spread out your pain medication, but you can’t forgo it completely, Sam. You need rest to heal.”
Sam ignored that. Maybe she’d take the meds later, after she knew what was going on with Nate.
Maybe she wouldn’t.
“Cal should be back, don’t you think?”
“I can call him again, if you want,” Aly said pleasantly.
But that fake-ass pleasant tone was just Aly being placating.
A knock sounded at the door and Sam’s heart soared with hope, but it was Landon who came in. He’d gone to get Aly a ginger ale for her iffy stomach.
Sam wanted to scream. If one more Bennet walked through that door that wasn’t the one she actually wanted to see…
“Look who I found,” Landon said.
And then the rest of the Bennet brothers filed in behind him.
“Nate.” Everything inside of her seemed to just whoosh out in that breath.
She was an empty vessel. But then reality crashed back in, and she wanted to scream. He was here. He was here. In his own clothes, no handcuffs. Released and here and hers.
She tried to get to her feet, but Nate crossed the room in seconds flat.
“Don’t get up, damn it. Sit your ass down.” He put his hand on her shoulder as if to keep her on the bed.
Because he sounded so mad, and she was just so damn happy to see him not in a prison jumpsuit or cuffs, Sam found herself listening despite her usual inclination to fight an order.
She sat and looked up at him and tried to believe this was real and not some kind of hallucination caused by the drugs she was on.
Then he sat on the bed next to her and gently gathered her into his arms. Warm and sturdy and here. Real.
“Good girl,” he murmured into her ear.
She choked on a watery laugh. “Don’t you ever say that to me again,” she said, but it was through a too-tight throat and with tears falling over onto her cheeks.
He was out. He was free. He was here.
She knew he was struggling with his own composure, so she held tight with her good arm. She let his shirt absorb all her tears. Tried to soothe away his own ragged breathing. She wasn’t sure how long they just clung together—her crying, Nate trying not to.
When they finally parted a little, Sam noted everyone had left, so it was just the two of them.
Nate brushed some tears off her cheeks, then cupped her face gently in his hands, his eyes moving all over her face like he was trying to memorize every inch.
His voice was rough and thick when he spoke. “I don’t know what I would have done if something had…”
“I’m all right. It’s just a scratch.”
He scowled at her. He’d once used those words to her, but he’d been a little more right about his wound being a scratch.
Hers definitely wasn’t.
But… “It’s over, Nate. It’s all over. We’re going to go home and put all this awfulness behind us.” She lifted her good arm, placed her hand over his on her cheek. “Because it’s over.”
He nodded, slowly. “Over.”
She scooted over on the bed, patted the small space he wouldn’t really fit in, but she didn’t care. She didn’t think he did either, because he pretzeled himself next to her, arms around her.
Everything kind of ached, but the relief she felt was so huge, so all-encompassing, she didn’t even notice. She just … could have lain here in his arms, uncomfortable forever.
“Once you’re all healed up, let’s go on vacation,” Nate said, his voice gruff against her hair. “Hit the beach for like a month. Maybe a year.”
She laughed in spite of herself, tears blurred her vision again, and her voice broke when she spoke. “I just want to go home.”
“Yeah, that too.” His hands smoothed over her hair, and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But we’re taking a break from work. Both of us. Nonnegotiable. We’ll just sit at the house and … I don’t know. Decompress.”
It sounded great. Mostly great. But not perfect. “I think I have a better idea.”