Page 22 of Desperation

“Rosen and Whitmore?” I already knew the answer. I’d seen them blown to bits in front of me. He shook his head morosely.

“The rest of the team has infiltrated the compound. We gotta get you to safety.” He looked down at my bloodstained clothing and let out a low curse. “You bastard. You better not fucking die on me!”

“Not a chance, asshole. It’s a flesh wound. Probably won’t even need stitches,” I joked even as the world tilted beneath me.

“Damn it! Radio the chopper!” Enzo yelled at Findley as he gripped me tighter under the arms. His voice grew further and further away until it faded completely.

Chapter Eighteen

Hannah

My fears were confirmed. He’d been there. In the middle of all the fighting, hunting down terrorists, and risking his life, Devon had been dropped in the epicenter of a nation on fire.

Drake got the call one evening just before bed. He wouldn’t tell me who was on the other end of the line, whether it was Devon or someone communicating on his behalf, but I'd heard enough to come to my own conclusions.

“An explosion?” he asked, his brows furrowed. There were other snippets from the conversation that painted a picture of what Devon had been through in the previous weeks.

Shrapnel. Evacuation. Hospital in Germany. Surgery.

He’d been hurt, possibly even maimed. But he was alive. I sent up a silent thank you to whatever omniscient and merciful entity had been watching over him. My prayers had been answered, the ones I barely remembered how to mumble from Sunday morning services attended with my mother. Perhaps it was time to crack open her well-worn Bible, the only possession I had left of my life before, and see what all the fuss was about.

Drake’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Ready for bed?” That was all he had to say? Wasn’t he going to tell me what had happened to his cousin?

“What was that call about?” I asked, trying to appear simply curious and not desperate for any information on Devon. I couldn’t help myself; I had to know.

“Devon was injured in a firefight. Bomb exploded near him, and he got hit with some shrapnel,” he replied casually. How could he be so calm? That was his family. “Guess that’s the risk you take when you sign up to be a SEAL.” He shrugged, and I fought back the urge to scream. I had to leave the room before I did or said something stupid. Walking to the bathroom, I shut and locked the door behind me and sank down on the side of the tub. I let angry and relieved tears flow freely, mixing until they became one. My shoulders shook with silent sobs as I buried my face in my hands. I still wanted to scream, but the strength to do so wilted from my exhausted body overwrought with emotion.

The lights were out, and Drake was snoring lightly when I finally returned to our bedroom. He wouldn't lose any sleep over the news about his cousin, but I surely would.

The next few weeks passed by in a blur of doctors’ appointments and preparations. Drake didn’t volunteer any more information about Devon, and the few times I inquired on his well-being, he replied vaguely that he was fine or doing alright. The problem was I had no idea if it was the truth. He could have been laid up in a hospital somewhere, still recovering from his injuries. A doctor could’ve been fitting him with a prosthesis for a lost limb. Or perhaps he was sitting on a therapist’s couch working through PTSD. Drake said he was okay, but what did that mean? I didn’t know, and that was killing me.

I was getting myself worked up and needed to calm down. My blood pressure was on the rise with each exam, and my doctor warned that we may need to induce my labor early if it kept climbing. She’d sent my urine off to be analyzed, and I was to return for more testing in a few days, but the goal was to keep him in there as long as we could so his little lungs could develop. I tried not to think about what would happen if he came too soon. How early was too early? My ankles were a bit puffy, and my belly seemed to double in size the last couple months. All the tests indicated he was healthy and strong. Surely he’d be okay. He had to be.

I got the news that we’d be meeting our little one sooner rather than later at my next appointment. My induction date was set for the following Monday, and I was prescribed a higher dose of medication to keep my blood pressure under control. I called Drake to let him know, but it went to voicemail. Not unusual while he was working since he couldn’t hear over the equipment, but when he didn’t return my call that evening or show up at home after work, I started to get worried. It wasn’t like him not to get in touch with me if he was going to be late.

I finally heard the keys in the lock just before nine. He came in, quietly brooding, and headed straight for the hall.

“Where have you been?” He halted in his tracks, and his icy stare met mine as if to sayhow dare you question me.“You had me worried,” I added hastily, and his face softened. I scanned my eyes over him, noting his dirty, rumpled clothes, his knuckles scraped and bloody. “What happened?”

“Got in a scuffle with a biker who thought he could mouth off and not have to back it up.” That was all he said before slipping into the bathroom. I heard the shower start a moment later, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he’d been doing this evening and where this fight took place. He’d been riding more and more, and had made new friends among other motorcycle enthusiasts, but he'd never come home bloody before.

I reheated a plate of the casserole I’d cooked for dinner while he showered and poured a glass of sweet tea. He looked grateful I had a hot meal waiting on him when he emerged.

“Thank you.” He wrapped his arms around me and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Sorry for snapping at you. It’s been a long day.” I didn’t say anything. All I could do was bask in his sweet, tender gesture, my faith in him renewed. He really was changing.

I sat at the table with him while he ate to keep him company. “You eat already?” His concern warmed my heart, and I found myself smiling. There was hope for us yet.

“Yeah, I ate earlier,” I replied, hoping he wouldn’t be mad that I hadn’t waited for him.

“Good.” He speared another bite and devoured it, clearly approving of the new recipe I tried. My eyes drifted to the empty chair Devon had occupied so many times during his leave. It happened every time Drake and I sat down for a meal. I shook myself, refocusing on my boyfriend. He was trying so hard to be everything I needed and had become a more caring and attentive partner over the last couple months, so why did a part of me still miss Devon so much?

“Did you get my message earlier?” I asked, turning my attention to Drake.

“I saw it,” he responded, shaking his head, “but didn’t get a chance to listen to it.” That was all he offered me. No explanation of where he’d been or what he’d been doing. I felt I’d tested the waters enough for one evening and should probably tread lightly, so I didn’t probe further.

“I went to the doctor today.”

He muttered a distracted “Mmm, hmm,” so I went on.

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