Page 128 of Undone

Looking next to my bed, I saw Gracie curled up on a chair, tucked into Noah’s lap. Her face was pressed against Noah’s chest, her hair tangled, eyes puffy. Noah’s head was tilted back against the chair, her mouth slightly open, her arms protectively wrapped around Gracie.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I only watched them.

Gracie stirred as she stretched her arms. She opened her eyes, squinting at the harsh light, and then stopped. Her gaze locked on mine.

“Daddy?” Her voice cracked, and it hit me like a freight train. Her lip wobbled as realization set in, and tears filled her eyes. “Daddy!” she cried again, scrambling off Noah’s lap.

Her sudden movement jolted Noah awake, her body tensing as her eyes shot open. She blinked, her gaze darting from Gracie to me. And then she froze.

Gracie was already climbing onto the edge of the bed, her little hands gripping mine like she was afraid I might disappear. She was sobbing now, hiccupping between gasps, her tears falling onto my hospital gown.

Noah’s chair scraped back as she stood, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her mouth. Her eyes were wide, shining with relief.

“You’re awake,” she finally managed.

I nodded weakly, lifting my hand to touch Gracie’s hair. “It’s okay, Gracie. I’m alright,” I murmured, my throat dry and scratchy.

Gracie buried her face against me, her sobs muffled, and I felt the tight band of fear finally loosen.

Noah moved closer, brushing a strand of my hair from my forehead reassuringly.

Gracie’s cries began to quiet, her tiny hand clutching mine tightly. “Don’t ever go away ever again, Daddy,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” I promised. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The door opened moments later, and a nurse walked in, followed by a doctor.

“Well, look who’s awake,” a voice said, warm and light, drawing my attention as the doctor stepped to my bedside. “How are you feeling, Dr. James?”

I groaned, the sound rough and dry. “Like my leg got run over by a truck.”

I felt someone move, and I realized it was Noah reaching to hold Gracie’s hand. The nurse adjusted the IV in my arm while the doctor checked my vitals.

“You’re a lucky man,” she said. “You lost a lot of blood. The bullet went clean through, but it nicked the artery, which made things worse. We managed to stop the bleeding, but it fractured your femur. We inserted a rod during surgery to stabilize it. You’re going to need a lot of time to heal, and physical therapy will be crucial.”

I tried moving, but pain shot through my leg, making me wince. “How long?”

“A few months, at least,” the doctor replied. “Full mobility will depend on your commitment to physical therapy. For now, you can’t put any weight on that leg for at least six weeks. After that, we’ll reassess.”

I let out a long breath and sank back into the pillow. “Great,” I muttered. “So, no walking?”

“Not for a while,” she said, her tone soft. “You’ll be in a wheelchair at first, then progress to crutches. It’ll take patience, but with the way things went, you’re in good shape.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Patience, huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s going to be a bit of a process.”

I glanced over at Gracie. She hadn’t taken her eyes off me, still holding my hand like she was afraid to let go. I hated seeing that look on her face.

“Will Daddy be able to play with me again?” she asked, her voice small but full of hope.

The doctor smiled at her, kneeling slightly to meet her eyes. “Of course, sweetie. It’s going to take some time, but he’s a tough guy. He’ll be back on his feet before you know it.”

Gracie looked at me, her lip quivering. “You promise, Daddy?”

My hand squeezed hers. “I promise, kiddo.”

She gave a little laugh, but it was shaky, like she was holding back tears.

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