Page 122 of Claiming Their Omega

The idea that keeping her asleep for now will help her get better is what has us agreeing to the doctor’s wishes. I want to see those beautiful blue eyes open and hear her speak to us, to confirm she’s all right, but I don’t want her to be awake and suffering.

“Can I get you anything?” I ask, not wanting to be a bad host.

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

Easton gets up to make it. The doc sits down with a sigh. “She’ll be okay. She’s young, with a lot of energy and fighting spirit. We just need to monitor her carefully. I couldn’t find any signs of concussion, but if she doesn’t wake up soon, call me. Make sure she’s in a well-ventilated area and that she avoids any further exposure to smoke or other irritants. Watch her closely for any signs of distress or complications.”

“We can do that.”

“I want her eating clear soup. Chicken noodle, that type. Not too much dairy, and nothing spicy. It’ll clog her throat if it’s dairy and spice will irritate her further. Lots of liquids, and electrolytes and protein.”

We get the doc his coffee, and as he sips it, I feel my stomach slowly unclench. I know Dr. Hazlett, we all do, and we know that he wouldn’t be relaxing with a cup of coffee if he thought his patient was in any danger.

Grace might actually be okay.

Dr. Hazlett finishes his coffee, gives us a few more instructions, and adds as he walks out the door, “And make sure you four get some damn sleep, you clearly need it.”

I glare, but I can’t argue with him. We are exhausted. The adrenaline’s wearing off now, and we need to be rested to take care of Grace if she needs us.

The doctor leaves, and I troop up to check on Grace in her bedroom. By unspoken agreement, I know that none of us are going to leave her alone.

I hear the shower start up as one of us hops in, and I think I hear Hendrix groan and the springs on a mattress squeaking. We’ll take it in shifts.

Grace is so still and small in her bed. I fall to my knees at her side, the weight of my fear crashing down over me like a wave.

She looks so fragile. I never would’ve thought of Grace that way before. She’s small, and elegant, and I know she likes to look pretty. But she’s never been the sort of woman you describe as a China doll, the sort of person you picture sitting high up on a shelf. Grace forges her own path and isn’t afraid of hard work.

To think of the woman I’ve gotten to see every day helping out with farm work, growing stronger every day as she lifted equipment and hay bales, learned to work tractors and plows, caring for the calves and chickens and managing the skittish horses… to picture that, then compare it with the woman lying so still in the bed next to me… it breaks my damn heart.

I take her hand in mine. It’s still a bit cold, but far warmer than she’d been when we found her. I kiss the back of her hand, and her knuckles. She doesn’t stir.

I let my forehead fall to the bed, still clutching at Grace’s hand.

“Please be okay,” I beg in a hoarse whisper. “Please come back to us. Please. We need you.”

I once would’ve hated to admit it. But now I feel like it’s a truth that she must already know—and if she doesn’t know, then she should. It’s a truth I need to speak.

Please.

Chapter 45

Grace

I wake up feeling groggy and incredibly sore.

For a second, I’m disoriented. I have no idea where I am. There’s a lingering headache and I feel tired. Like back when I was first on the ranch and was working muscles I didn’t even know existed. But I also feel like I’m on the tail end of a bad cold, when you’re mostly feeling better but your body’s still resting after going ten rounds with a virus.

I open my eyes, blinking and squinting, trying to figure out what’s going on.

For some reason waking up in my bed doesn’t feel right. I wasn’t here, last. I was—I was out in—

“The barn,” I croak, trying to push myself upright.

Instantly I’m pushed back down by several pairs of hands. I look up, and I see all four Alphas hovering over me. None of them look like they’ve slept well. Actually, that’s an understatement. They all look like wrecks.

Even so, they’re still unbearably handsome.

“Don’t exert yourself!” Jesse says, his voice soft but also stern.

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