Chapter 76
Chapter Seventy-Six
Claudia
The chill of the wind whistles through the truck, but I barely notice any of it. Instead, my eyes are pinned to the way Jordan’s body jerks painfully with each and every bump the truck speeds over as I straddle his legs and press hard against the wound. He winces.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper automatically.
He leans against the metal wall of the truck bed, legs stretched out beneath me, head tipped forward, forehead damp with sweat.
Beneath my bloodied hands, my jacket is wrapped around his upper bicep, knotted tight to try to slow the bleeding, but even so, his bronze skin looks duller than usual and his eyes are drooping.
“Stay with me,” I murmur, running my spare hand over his cheek and trying to ignore the way his blood has stained my skin.
Beside us, Heidi frowns. “I’ll find him some water,” she says softly.
I nod. She shuffles to the edge of the truck and starts rifling through the bag of supplies we brought with us. Just beyond, Emilia and Zac sit close together, slumped against opposite sides of the truck.
I only glance at them for a couple of seconds before my attention returns to Jordan.
His breathing is slower than normal, almost raspy, and panic consumes me at the sound. My fingers shake as I softly caress the side of his face once more.
His gaze drifts to mine, slightly unfocused before clearing. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice thinner than usual. My throat clogs. I look across the truck to check on Heidi, who’s still diving deep inside the bag.
“Hey, look at me,” Jordan murmurs.
My eyes fall back to my husband, a weak smile pulling at my lips as I try to clear the fear from my face. It doesn’t work. He’s always been able to read me.
His lips twitch. “Don’t panic, love,” he says, voice soft. “I’m going to be okay.”
“I know,” I say, voice cracking mid word and betraying every ounce of uncertainty, of utter dread and despair and darkness that’s fighting to burst free.
Because I don’t know.
I haven’t got a clue whether he’s going to be okay. I don’t know first aid, I don’t know gunshot wounds, I don’t even know human anatomy that well. I don’t know what that bullet could have hit.
I don’t know what kind of havoc it might wreck on his life.
Jordan lifts his uninjured hand, softly brushing my cheek with the back of his fingers before catching a loose strand of my hair. Lazily, he twirls it around his finger. Just like normal.
“Have I ever let you down before?” he asks quietly.
My throat burns, and so do my eyes. “Never,” I whisper.
He smiles. Small and tired… but still utterly him. “Exactly,” he murmurs. “I’m not about to start now.”
I lean closer, resting my forehead against his. He’s warm—warmer than me. Even when he’s lying on the truck floor, bullet hole in his arm, he’s still able to keep me warm, to reassure me, to make sure I’m okay.
The truck thunders beneath us, but for a moment the world narrows to this. To us.
“I love you,” I whisper.
His smile widens. “And I you,” he murmurs.
Behind me, something rustles. “Here!” Heidi reappears beside us, thrusting a water bottle towards me.
I pull back quickly, blinking away the sting in my eyes and taking it from her. “Thank you,” I say, voice steadier than before. Quickly, I remove the lid and bring the bottle to Jordan’s lips. He takes a small sip, brow furrowing and almost grimacing in pain as he swallows.
My eyes drift to his chest, watching as it rises and falls, slow and steady. Grounding me. Assuring me.
He’s still here. Still breathing. Still alive.
My fingers brush his stubbled jaw once more.
God, I love him.
He’ll be okay.
He has to be.