Chapter Twelve
Lila
Time stretched, moments stacking into slow minutes building glacial hours, broken only by the soft-spoken nurse rotating in to check on him. I sat and watched him sleep, watched the IV drip, the fluid level in the bag inching down.
My phone vibrated to life on my thigh, Mama’s contact photo on the screen. I fumbled to answer the call, gaze locked on his face.
“Hello?” I whispered. He didn’t move, chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths.
“Lila?” Worry tightened Mama’s voice. “Why are you at the hospital?”
How did she . . .? Oh, right. The location-sharing app. I rarely logged in since I had no need to track my parents, but obviously Mama felt the need to track me.
“I’m okay.” I kept my voice at a whisper. “I’m with Dan.”
“Is he okay?” Her maternal panic shifted to concern.
“He will be.” I traced his features with my gaze, the line of his jaw, the splint over his nose, mouth slightly open in sleep. “He, um, he got hurt at work.”
The words threatened to close my throat like an allergic reaction, swelling everything shut.
“Oh, honey.” Mama’s sympathy wrapped around me despite the miles between us. “I’m glad you’re with him, but I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.” My voice shook, remembered fear trembling through me. “Mama, someone hurt him.”
“Oh, baby.” The warmth undid me. My eyes burned, filling. I swallowed a sob, shoving the lump down with it. “But you said he’ll be okay.”
“Yes. The doctor said so.” I gulped down another sob. “He can go home tonight.”
“Okay, well, there you go,” Mama soothed. “This was frightening for both of you, I know, but he’s going to be well. You’ll be with him and everything will be fine.”
“Mama. Someone hurt him.” The idea boggled my mind. He was so good, an absolute sweetheart. And some angry asshole had hit him in the face, knocked him down.
“Baby girl, you are dating a law enforcement officer.” Although the warmth remained, Mama shifted to her no-nonsense lawyer voice. “That carries an element of risk.”
“I know but . . .”
I really hadn’t thought the whole dating-a-cop thing through.
Mama sighed. “Lila.”
“Ma’am.”
“You are a smart young woman. Brilliant. I know you didn’t go into this without thinking.”
“Well, I kinda did.” Nothing would be gained by lying to my mother. She saw through everything – and cut through it like softened butter.
“Well, it’s time to think about it now. I don’t know why I’m surprised.” An element of exasperation crept in, crisp despite the deep underlying affection. “You’ve been flighty with these boys you’ve dated–”
“I’m not flighty.” I bristled all over, voice rising above a hushed whisper, and I shrank into the chair. My gaze darted to Dan’s face. He needed to sleep, not wake up to my discussion with my mother.
“Not normally, except you keep dating these men who aren’t long term material for you. He’s much more serious–”
“You haven’t even met him.”
A soft snore rattled his throat, and I leaned forward, watching his pulse in his throat, his breathing, those numbers on the monitor. Slowly, I relaxed as his pulse stayed steady.
“I listen when you talk about him. He’s mature and settled. Devoted to you. Everything all these other boys weren’t.” Her small harrumph carried over the line. “Your daddy is ready to meet him.”
My eyes widened. Daddy hadn’t said anything when we’d talked earlier in the week. And I didn’t know what to say now. She thought I was flighty?
She wasn’t finished either. “As bad as I hate this happened, maybe you should take this as an opportunity to consider your level of commitment here.”
What? I snapped my mouth shut. I knew that tone, and there was no arguing once Mama assumed her closing-argument voice.
Chastened, I murmured a goodbye and a love you in response to her farewell. Pulling my foot up to rest on the edge of the chair, I wrapped my arms around my knee while I watched him sleep. I didn’t want to cheat him.
Surely I wasn’t the type of person to play with someone’s feelings? I’d assumed we were in the same place, exclusive but not too serious.
Now I didn’t even know what place I was in.
I leaned forward, gaze on the steady rise and fall of his chest once more. At each breath, a corresponding wave of gratitude washed through me.
He could be gone.
And he wasn’t. He was still here, bruised but sleeping.
The IV alarm shrilled, cutting through me. His eyes flew open, a sharp inhale jerking his chest.
I scrambled to my feet, stroking his jaw, his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Honey, you’re all right.”
Pupils wide, he blinked at me, grabbing my wrist while another panicked breath shook his torso.
After a quick knock, the nurse bustled in, smiling at both of us. “All right. Let’s get your discharge papers and your buddies from the PD and see about getting you out of here so you can rest for real.”
Blinking hard, he nodded, a few more hard inhales moving his chest under my hand before he settled. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Shit.”
“Oh, that alarm is awful when you’re asleep.” She cut the power to the pump and reached for his hand to remove the IV cannula. “I’m going to grab your stuff and be right back.”
Eyes closed, he huffed out a breath. I trailed a gentle finger along his jaw. “How do you feel?”
“Awful,” he rasped, a wince drawing his brows together. “Like cotton in my head but it hurts.”
I leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, inhaling him underneath the sharp antiseptic. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand drifted over my hair, a soft hum vibrating in his throat.
Devoted.
I closed my eyes.
Flighty.
The door swung open, and I jerked up. Grimacing, Josh held a hand aloft. “Should have knocked. Sorry.”
Vic rolled her eyes and strode to the chair, leaning down to grab Dan’s boots. “Gallagher, do you want your shirt on?”
He blinked, struggled to rest on his elbows and stared at the navy fabric dangling from her finger. A beat hung in the air. He rubbed a hand over his scalp. “Yeah.”
She passed it to me. “Help him with that while I get his boots on.”
Disconcerted, I shifted to the side as Dan heaved into a situp and swung his legs to sit on the edge of the bed. They were moving so fast.
Face set in pained lines, he held an arm out sideways while Vic knelt to fit a boot to his foot. I threaded his arm through the shirtsleeve and found myself trapped between Vic and the chair.
“I’ll get it.” Josh strode around the end of the bed, grabbed the shirt and held it so Dan could fumble his other arm in. Breathing heavily, he braced both hands on the mattress edge. Vic shoved his other boot into place and made short work of the laces.
I clenched my hands, nails curling into my palms. Unease skittered through me, like I stood in a parallel world I didn’t understand.
Josh laid a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You all right, man?”
He nodded.
Vic smirked, sympathy lighting her eyes. “You’re going to hurt for days.”
He nodded again, and Josh chuckled, camaraderie without malice.
What was wrong with them? He was hurt, and this wasn’t funny.
Dan patted his shirt pocket, stared at his empty hand, then shook his head.
Still kneeling at his feet, Vic patted both of his ankles. “You’ll be a little cloudy the next couple of days, too.”
“Been there,” Josh muttered. A huff of amusement lifted Dan’s shoulders.
The nurse returned, rattling off instructions about sleeping and resting and avoiding lights and the dressings for his nose.
She held out a sheaf of papers in my direction, and I took them, staring down at Dan’s name on the top form.
He reached for them, rolled them into a tube and stuck them in his shirt pocket.
She laughed. “He’s ready to get out of here. Let me get a wheelchair–”
“I can walk.” He slid off the bed, testing his knees, and I lunged to place an awkward hand on his back, aware Vic had moved to his other side and Josh reached over the bed to steady him.
“Of course you can.” The nurse shook her head, like this was an everyday occurrence and not . . . whatever this was. Maybe a little bit of a nightmare, not quite real.
He swayed, and Josh snorted, holding his shoulder while skirting the bed. “Get his other side, Ocampo.”
With an apologetic lift of her brows, Vic moved to stand next to me. Dan slung a heavy arm over her shoulder, while Josh fit his shoulder into Dan’s opposite armpit.
“A wheelchair would be easier,” the nurse said, holding the door as they maneuvered him through.
Josh snorted. “Mel let you roll him out?”
Affection lit up her face. “No.”
“All right, then.”
On the other side of the door, Dan looked back for me, frowning, a hint of drugged confusion darkening his gaze. “Lila?”
“Right here.” I stepped forward, following them through the door and down a shorter hallway to the ambulance bay, where two patrol cars waited.
“Goodnight, hon.” The nurse patted my shoulder. “Good luck.”
My shoulders rose to my ears, and I dropped them with a deliberate exhale. Good luck. Right.
Josh straightened from the passenger seat of the first car, Dan’s seatbelt fastened, his head on the rest, eyes closed. He was so pale, and the bruises stood out under the harsh lighting in the bay. Josh’s gaze slid over my face, his expression softening.
He jerked his chin toward the second unit. “Vic’ll follow. You can ride with her. You staying with him?”
“Yes.” I squared my shoulders. Was there even a question?
“Okay.” He shifted his gaze to Vic behind me. “Let’s go.”
In the patrol car, I watched Josh’s brake lights, trees and houses blurring together under the streetlights.
I couldn’t quite get enough oxygen, a hint of panic fluttering at the base of my throat, fluttering through my belly.
Vic didn’t speak, the soft crackle of the police radio covering the muted roar of the engine and the hum of tires on damp streets.
I released a shuddery exhale, hands twisted together in my lap.
Moments later, we pulled into Dan’s drive. His apartment remained dark, although the garage light was on and the motion sensor lights kicked on with our arrival. Next door, every light at Nicole’s house blazed despite the late hour.