52
F ive days.
Five days and Ruby still hasn’t woken up.
Every ounce of her little body is fighting. Her breathing’s evened out, and her vitals are strong. She just won’t wake up.
I beg, I pray, I even yell because if breaking my promise has her opening those gorgeous baby blues, I’ll apologize to her for the rest of my days.
“Stubborn,” I growl, but Ruby’s eyes stay closed to the world. I sweep her rose-gold hair back from her pale face, holding onto her hand for dear life. “You want to put me through hell, baby, this ain’t the way to do it.”
I clock the monitors that track her vitals. Her heart rate stays steady at eighty. Every ounce of her little body is fighting to survive.
Sunlight streams through her window. Her hospital’s room’s overflowing with vases of roses, pots of sunflowers, white daisies in vases. Every day, I bring her flowers. And I’ll keep bringing them until she wakes up.
She belongs in the light, not the darkness.
“I brought you violets today. They remind me of you. Small. Pretty. Feisty.” I drag a hand down my beard, then rest it over Ruby’s heart. I don’t trust the machines. I trust her.I’m going to become a pro at knowing my girl’s heartbeat.
When there’s no response, I sigh and bow my head. I haven’t left her side. The chair beside her bed is mine. To hell with everyone else.
Her hand is small and cold. I rub it between my fingers like a piece of kindling, giving her my warmth.
“Winslow misses you. We’ve been keeping the horses at the Wolfingtons’ place, if you can believe that.
” I close my eyes and exhale, hoping she can hear me, even though she’s unconscious.
“There’s so much I have to tell you, baby.
So much we still need to do. We got a sunrise in our plans.
California. But you have to wake up, Ruby. You have to come back to me.”
Straightening up, I press my lips to Ruby’s cool forehead.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “I am not built to be here without you,” I whisper against her brow.
“I’ll go on if have to. Live some piss-poor life that won’t make either of us happy.
But Ruby, darlin’, I am not built for life without you. ”
More silence.
It’s agony.
“Charlie.”
I glance over my shoulder. Davis stands in the threshold of Ruby’s hospital room, keeping a respectful distance. “I need to talk to you.”
Waving him in, I rotate in the chair, keeping Ruby’s hand in mine. I won’t let go of it. I’m attached to her like the cords and tubes feeding into her body. Every second I’m away from her, not touching her, has me on edge.
Davis stops at the foot of the bed and stares at Ruby. “How is she?” he asks in a low voice.
“The same.” I glance at Ruby, her long lashes resting against her pale cheek, and my chest tightens. “Strong. Stubborn.”
He gives a grunt of a chuckle. “She took up with you. She’s gotta be.”
I drag a hand over my beard, eyeing my older brother in suspicion. “What do you want, Davis?”
He’s the only one who stuck around. Wyatt and Ford both went back to the ranch to deal with the horses and the barn. Things are a mess, but I’m grateful I have my brothers to handle it. “If you’re here to tell me to leave, save your breath.”
“Would it make a difference?” he asks, raising a wry brow. “Telling you to leave.”
I grunt.
“That’s what I thought.” He snorts and passes me the coffee in his hands. “I’m here to keep you awake.”
Gratefully, I take it, drinking the lukewarm liquid in one long slug.
“Brought you a fresh shirt too.” Davis tosses a bag on the chair. “Mom and dad are worried.”
“I know.” My phone has fifty texts messages I haven’t returned. “I’ll get back to the land of the living when she does.”
“Charlie.” Davis’s voice is dangerous. Cold. His gaze flicks to Ruby, to me. “I’m going to Resurrection. I’ll handle the ranch. Valiante.”
I try to control my rise of anger, not wanting an ounce of my rage to transfer to Ruby.
A muscle jerks in my jaw. Fuck the photo. I want to kill the bastard. Wrap my hands around Valiante’s throat and squeeze. Because he did this. He’s the reason Ruby’s lying lifeless and dim in a hospital bed.
“That’s my job,” I grit out. “Leave him for me.”
“What’re you gonna do, Charlie?” Davis asks evenly. “Drive to his house and kill the guy?”
“The thought’s crossed my mind,” I growl.
“Leave Ruby?”
I glare at him. Damn dirty bastard playing that card.
Davis steps closer and squeezes my shoulder. “No. You focus on your girl. I got you.”
A memory of me and Davis from long ago creeps in my mind.
We were hunting, and Davis was in front of me, leading the way.
I tripped in the thick brush. My gun went off, a horrific mistake, but I remember the terrifying moment of seeing my oldest brother in the way of that bullet.
He picked me up, brushed sticks and grass from my hands.
“This is between us,” he said. “Mom and Dad don’t need to know.
” His voice was low, serious for a ten-year-old. “I got you, Charlie.”
“I almost shot you,” I gasped. I fell to my knees, and tears streamed down my face. I was just a kid, but even then, I knew I had almost killed my brother.
It was an accident.
But he forgave me.
He protected me.
And he’s still doing it.
I inhale a breath, accepting it for what it is, grateful my brother has my back. “You have the photo?”
“Yeah,” Davis says. “But if we put this out ...it might mean retaliation. We don’t know.”
“I don’t give a shit,” I snap. “Put it out there, put Valiante’s ass on the line. Let everyone see what dirty shit he’s done. Let them see what he did to Ruby.”
Face softening, Davis stares at Ruby. “This is for her.”
I nod. “Thank you,” I tell my brother. “For not giving up. For helping bring her back to me.”
Davis’s brown eyes lock on mine and hold. “I had to. I know what it would have meant, Charlie.”
My throat constricts as I watch Davis walk to the door. He stops in the doorway, his broad back rigid, a hand moving to rub his shoulder.
“Your scar hurt?” I ask.
“No,” he says, his deep voice steely with resolve. “Just reminding myself who I am.”
I frown. “Davis ...”
“Don’t worry about me. I got Valiante handled.”
I hold my oldest brother’s hard stare. “Destroy his fucking life,” I tell him, and then I get back to my girl.