Chapter 35
thirty-five
CHRISTCHURCH, NEW ZEALAND
Rue wondered if the IV drip was laced with something stronger than saline, because she had to be hallucinating. That was the only explanation for why Elliot was currently locked in a debate with a nurse over the entire environment of her hospital room.
“The standard cotton blend is perfectly adequate for patient comfort,” the nurse said, her voice tight with the kind of patience usually reserved for unruly toddlers.
“Not for someone recovering from hypothermia,” Elliot countered, adjusting the blanket around Rue’s shoulders for the third time in ten minutes.
“Her core temperature regulation is still compromised. These sheets feel like sandpaper, the thermostat is at least three degrees too low, and that flickering fluorescent light is going to give her a migraine. And don’t get me started on the mattress—this thing is one step above a slab of concrete. ”
Rue closed her eyes and sank deeper into the pillows, praying he’d take the hint and stop before he started critiquing the air circulation or the noise in the hallway.
He’d been hovering over her for the past eighteen hours like she was made of spun glass, and while part of her warmed at the attention, another part wanted to throttle him with her oxygen tube.
“Elliot,” she rasped, her voice still rough from the tube that had been down her throat, helping her breathe. “The sheets are fine. The room is fine.”
He turned to her with that crease between his eyebrows that appeared whenever he was worried—which, lately, seemed to be his permanent expression. “The ventilation system in here is ancient.”
Annnd there it was. Did she know her man or what? She laughed softly and winced at the spike of pain it caused.
He was at her side in an instant. ”Don’t laugh. You’ll hurt yourself.”
She sighed. “I’m going to hurt you if you don’t stop hovering!”
“Wilde.” The single word cut through the room like a blade.
Gabe Bristow filled the doorway, his weathered face set in the expression that had once made enemy combatants reconsider their life choices.
Even in civilian clothes—dark jeans and a button-down shirt—he radiated the kind of authority that made people straighten their spines involuntarily.
Elliot went perfectly still. “Sir.”
“You look like hell.”
It was true. Elliot’s usually immaculate appearance had deteriorated over the week.
His light brown hair stuck up at odd angles from running his hands through it, dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, and his clothes were the same tactical pants and Henley he’d worn during their evacuation from Antarctica.
The scabs on his cheek from Jess’s nails stood out starkly against his pale skin.
“I’m fine,” Elliot said automatically.
Gabe’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Son, when’s the last time you showered? Ate a real meal? Slept somewhere that wasn’t that chair?”
Rue watched the internal battle play out across Elliot’s features. His protective instincts warred with his ingrained respect for her father, and she could see the moment respect won. His shoulders sagged slightly in defeat.
“She needs?—”
“She needs you healthy and rested. And you need a break,” her father said, and the tone was one Rue recognized from her childhood—the one that had sent even hardened special forces operators scrambling to obey.
“Go back to the hotel with your brother.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Dom, who stood just outside the door. “Shower. Sleep. I’ll stay with her.”
Elliot hesitated, his gaze darting to Rue as if seeking permission or reassurance. She gave him a small nod, though part of her wanted him to stay. The constant hovering was driving her crazy, but there was something comforting about his presence, something that kept the nightmares at bay.
“I’ll be back in three hours,” he said finally.
“Make it six,” Gabe countered.
Elliot’s jaw tightened, but he nodded curtly. “Yes, sir.” He leaned over like he was going to kiss her, then seemed to think better of it with her father standing there, glaring. He brushed his lips over her forehead instead. “Call if you need anything. Anything at all.”
“I think I can manage without Egyptian cotton sheets for a few hours,” she said, trying for lightness.
The smile he gave her was strained, worry still etched deeply in the lines around his eyes. She wanted to erase those lines, but she was running out of ways to reassure him.
“I’m okay, Elliot,” she whispered and squeezed his hand. “Please, go take care of yourself now. For me.”
He inhaled, then exhaled in a rush and nodded.
Then he was gone, leaving her alone with her father for the first time since their rescue.
Gabe settled into the chair Elliot had vacated.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “He was driving me crazy.”
“I know how it feels.” He lifted his pant leg and tapped on his new metal prosthesis. “Your mother hovered for weeks after the big chop.”
Rue smiled. “She hates that you call it that.”
Gabe looked genuinely perplexed. “Yeah, I don’t get it. That’s what they did. Chopped off that broken-ass foot. Hell, I should’ve done it years ago.”
Rue laughed, wincing as the movement pulled at her still-tender ribs.
Her dad had always approached his injuries with the same matter-of-fact attitude he brought to everything else in life.
His foot had been damaged in a car accident years before she was born, and he’d dealt with the limp and the pain for decades before finally opting to have it amputated.
And once he’d made the decision, he’d treated the surgery like a minor inconvenience rather than a life-altering event.
“Mom was just worried about you,” she said, studying his face. Despite his casual demeanor, she could see the toll of the past few days in the new lines around his eyes and mouth, as well as the slight pallor beneath his tan.
“And Wilde’s just worried about you.” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You two have gotten close.”
It wasn’t a question, but she heard the unspoken inquiry nonetheless. Her father had always been economical with words, expecting others to fill in the blanks.
“We’ve been through a lot together,” she said carefully, not ready to define whatever was happening between her and Elliot, especially not to her father.
Gabe nodded, his expression unreadable. His teammates hadn’t called him Stonewall for nothing.
“How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asked after a long moment. “You scared your mom.”
Translation: You scared me .
She’d scared herself, too, though she’d never admit it out loud.
“I’m okay, Dad.” The lie came easily, practiced from years of reassuring worried parents after climbing accidents and expedition mishaps. “Just tired.”
“Want to talk about it?”
The simple question hit harder than any amount of fussing or hovering. Her father had always been like this—direct, patient, willing to sit in uncomfortable silences until she was ready to speak. It was the opposite of Elliot’s anxious caretaking, and somehow more unsettling.
Rue picked at the edge of her hospital blanket, the rough weave catching on her still-healing fingertips. The doctors had treated her for minor frostbite, but the damage was mostly superficial. Unlike the damage to her peace of mind.
“They killed her, Daddy.” Tears welled up and spilled over. “They murdered Maren.” Her voice cracked, the words shattering in her throat. “She was trying to help those people, and they just—they left her there to die. Like garbage.”
Her father’s big hand engulfed hers, warm and solid, anchoring her as the emotions she’d been holding back crashed through her defenses.
Unlike Elliot, who would’ve immediately tried to comfort her with words, her father simply held on, giving her the space to feel everything she’d been pushing down.
The tears kept coming, and Rue couldn’t stop them.
She hadn’t cried this hard since finding Maren’s body, frozen and abandoned in that makeshift morgue.
Part of her hated breaking down like this in front of her father—the man who’d taught her to be strong, to face danger without flinching.
But another part needed this release, needed to finally acknowledge the full weight of what had happened.
“I keep seeing her face,” she whispered. “Every time I close my eyes.”
The door to her room swung open, and her mother swept in like a colorful whirlwind, arms laden with shopping bags.
Audrey Bristow’s silver-gray hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, secured with what looked like a paintbrush.
She wore a flowing caftan in shades of turquoise and purple, multiple beaded necklaces clacking together as she moved.
“I found the most wonderful little shop just down the street,” she announced, setting the bags down at the foot of Rue’s bed.
“They had these organic teas that are supposed to help with healing, and I got you some new pajamas because those hospital gowns are just awful, and—” She stopped abruptly, finally noticing Rue’s tear-streaked face. “Oh, my baby.”
She rushed to the other side of the bed and perched on the edge, her hands fluttering over Rue like hummingbirds before finally settling on her cheeks, thumbs gently wiping away tears.
“Mom,” Rue managed, embarrassed by the wobble in her voice. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Audrey said firmly. “And that’s okay.” She wiped away more tears and smiled. “I saw Elliot on my way in. Dominic was practically dragging him out the door. He wanted to come back to you. You do realize how much he loves you, right?”
Rue swallowed hard, and tears rushed into her eyes for an entirely different reason.
“He wants something permanent, Mom, and I’m.
.. I’m scared I’ll have to give up everything I am.
” The admission came out in a rush, surprising even her.
She hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t even realized it was weighing on her until the words escaped.
Audrey’s eyes softened with understanding. “Is that what you think happens when you love someone? That you have to surrender who you are?”
“Isn’t it?” Rue looked from her mother to her father. “You both changed so much when you got together. Dad retired from active duty?—”
Gabe grunted. “Not for your mom.”
She blinked. “No?”
“No, Audrey would’ve let me keep throwing myself into danger as long as I wanted to.”
“It’s true,” Mom said. “I didn’t always like it, but being a warrior is part of who he is, as ingrained as his eye color. I couldn’t ask him to change such a fundamental part of himself.”
“Baby girl, I stopped going into the field for you and your sister. I’d already beaten death three times in as many years and didn’t want to press my luck again. I wasn’t going to leave my girls fatherless.”
Rue opened her mouth, then closed it again without uttering a sound, completely at a loss for words.
“But…” she finally managed. “Mom, you stopped painting those wild abstracts. You used to live on a beach in Costa Rica. You gave all that up.”
Audrey’s laugh was like wind chimes, unexpected and musical. “Oh, honey. I didn’t give up anything to be with your father. In fact, he was the only person in my life who didn’t demand I change. I lost my parents young, and my brother never understood me.”
That was true enough. To this day, Uncle Bryson still looked at his baby sister with a mix of awe and trepidation.
“People call you adventurous, but people called me flighty. Unfocused. Reckless. Gabe saw me in all my chaos and loved me anyway. He gave me focus.”
“And she brought some much needed color into my life.” He smiled and held out a hand to his wife. Audrey went into his arms easily, looping her arms around his neck and grinning at him.
“Not enough color, unfortunately.” She poked at his shirt. “You still own entirely too much camo green, Sailor.”
Rue stared at her parents. All these years, she’d believed love required sacrifice—that choosing someone meant choosing less of yourself.
But watching her parents now, seeing the way they looked at each other with such obvious affection after decades together, she realized she’d gotten it completely wrong.
“You both became more yourselves,” she said slowly. “Not less.”
“Exactly.” Her mother leaned over to squeeze her hand. “Love doesn’t diminish you, sweetheart. It amplifies you. The right person doesn’t ask you to be smaller—they help you become bigger.”
Her father’s weathered hand covered both of theirs. “Elliot’s not trying to cage you, kiddo. He’s trying to figure out how to keep up, and any guy willing to do that for you is one worth keeping around. So… maybe throw him a rope, Baby Girl.”
She tried for a smile that felt wobbly on her lips. “Even though he’s a Wilde?”
Gabe scowled and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Jesus. The universe has a sick sense of humor.”
“Gabriel,” Audrey chided, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
“What? I’m allowed to grumble.” He shifted in his seat, the plastic faux leather of the hospital chair creaking under his weight. “Jude Wilde drives me crazy, and now two of his sons are with my daughters.”
“He’ll be family when Davey and Rowan marry next year.”
“Don’t remind me.” He sighed. “I guess it could be worse. Rue could’ve fallen for a Cavalier.”
Rue huffed a laugh. “That was never a concern, Dad. Sabin is not my type.” No, her type was protective, organized, and slightly obsessive.
Her type was Elliot.
She thought back to his confession at Takahe Station—how he’d given up his dream of being a doctor to serve his family’s needs. He understood sacrifice better than anyone, which meant when he said he wanted to follow her wherever she went, he meant it literally.
Leaning back against her pillows, she groaned. “I’ve been such an idiot.”
“No, you’ve just been scared.” Audrey studied her face for several long seconds, then smiled. “But you’re not now, are you?”