Page 49 of The Rookie's Second Chance

Jake.

He looked like hell—dark circles under his eyes and a day's growth of beard. There was a tension in his jaw, the lines of his face etched with worry.

I wanted to speak, to reassure him, but when I tried, it was like someone had taken a cheese grater to my throat. I winced, the sound that escaped me more animal than human.

"Don't try to talk," Jake said quickly, his hand finding mine. His grip was warm, a lifeline in the cold sterility of the hospital room. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in a silent message of comfort. His relief at seeing my eyes open was clear.

I mustered the smallest of nods, the action sending a fresh jolt of pain through my skull, but it was worth it to see the way his shoulders dropped slightly, the tension easing.

"Shit, Kayla," he breathed out, and I could see the sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. "I'm so fucking glad you're awake."

The urge to respond was overwhelming, to tell him I was okay, to ask about the case, about Lexi, about everything my brain was trying to connect. But all I could do was squeeze his hand back, the smallest gesture of 'I’m here.'

He understood, his other hand coming up to lay gently on my arm, careful not to jostle. "You scared the crap out of me," he admitted, and there was a tremble in his voice that told me just how close to the edge he was.

I closed my eyes, not to sleep, but to concentrate on staying present, to anchor myself to his voice, to the warmth of his hand. It was a silent promise I made to myself—to him—that I wasn’t going anywhere.

"Rest," he said softly, almost a whisper. "We'll talk when you're up to it. I've got news, but it can wait. Just... get better, Kayla."

I felt the brush of his lips against my hand, a touch so tender it seemed at odds with the rough-edged detective officer I knew. Then I was slipping again, but this time, it wasn't the dark pulling me under; it was sleep, natural and healing.

When consciousness crept back in, it was with less of a vengeance. I was sore, but my mind felt clearer, the fog of medication and pain starting to lift. I could feel the stiffness of the hospital sheets and hear the low murmur of the TV on the wall. My tongue felt swollen in my mouth, dry and unpleasant, but I worked up the saliva to swallow, to speak.

Jake was slumped in the chair beside my bed, his head resting awkwardly against the wall, eyes closed. He looked like he'd been through hell, but he was still there, steadfast.

"Jake," I rasped, my voice a rough whisper.

His eyes snapped open, immediately alert. "Kayla?"

"I need water," I managed to choke out.

He was quick to help, guiding a straw to my lips. The cold water was a minor miracle, soothing the rawness just enough. I took a moment, savoring the relief, before I pushed myself up slightly. Pain protested the movement, but it was bearable.

"Jake," I started again, my voice gaining a little strength, "rest my ass. That son of a bitch tried to kill me."

He looked taken aback, a soft chuckle escaping him despite the situation. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"

I felt a smile tug at my lips, wry and painful. "I've been called worse. But seriously, I want in."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes searching mine. "Kayla, you nearly died. You need to—"

"I know what I need," I cut him off, the determination making my voice steadier. "And I need to see this through. More now than ever."

Jake's face softened, and he took my hand again. "Fuck, you're incredible," he said, and then his lips were on mine, a gentle pressure that was somehow both a comfort and a spark of something more.

In that kiss, I felt all the things we hadn't had the chance to say, the depth of emotion that had been building between us, unspoken but not unfelt.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine. "I love you, Kayla," he murmured, so quietly I might have thought I imagined it if not for the intensity in his eyes. "I was scared shitless at the thought of losing you. I don't ever want you to leave my sight without knowing how I feel."

The words wrapped around me, a balm for more than just the physical wounds. The fear that it was too soon to feel this way evaporated, replaced by a certainty that was as deep as the ache in my bones.

"I love you, too, Jake," I said, the words clear and true. "Even if your timing sucks."

A grin broke across his face, the first real smile I'd seen from him in what felt like forever. It reached his eyes, crinkling the corners and lighting them up.

"We're a pair, aren't we?" he said, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand.

"The best kind," I replied, squeezing his hand back. "So, what'd you find out?" My voice felt stronger now, not just a whisper but a force.

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