Page 18 of Declan's Hope

"It’s okay. I can—"

"Hope." His gaze flew to hers while an intense panic filled him. She couldn’t leave. He was a grown man—a Marine veteran—who had been in situations where he might die more times than he could count. But none of those times had sent the kind of fear pumping through his veins like what he dreaded would be revealed to him in the next few moments. "I need—"

"Nurse Farrow, I’m staying," Hope declared, her steadfast gaze holding his for a heartbeat before straightening to her full height and giving the nurse what he figured was her stern teacher look. "And if you have a problem with that, I suggest you talk to the hospital administrator."

Nurse Farrow’s lips tightened into a thin line as she craned her neck up at Hope, finally saying with a hint of irritation, "We’ll let the doctor decide."

"Fine," Hope said with a quick nod. "We’ll do that."

With one more glare at Hope, the nurse proceeded to check his vitals, writing each one on a white board facing him, then reattached what she called the pulse ox to his finger. "Leave that on," she told him, then turned on her heel and left the room.

"Well, that was fun," Hope said on a short laugh. But her expression quickly sobered when she sat down in the chair next to the bed and let out a long breath. Her gaze went over his face, glancing for a second at the left side before leaning toward him. "But she was right. I shouldn’t have kissed you."

He attempted a grin, but he just couldn’t quite manage it. "I have a suspicion you kissing me is going to be the highlight of my day." It had definitely been the best thing he’d experienced in a long time. A small smile touched her lips as she laid her hand on the bed next to his.

Declan had so much he wanted to say to her. To tell her what it meant to him for her to be with him. Who knows, he might have voiced it, but a deep, masculine voice and the overhead light coming on broke in on his thoughts.

"Mr. Carter."

Hope’s eyes that only moments before had been full of something he thought looked suspiciously like affection, turned somber before she twisted her head toward the door. Her hand grasped his and held tight.

This is it.

"It’s good to see you awake. I’m Doctor Hall."

The doctor strode toward him while flipping through a chart. Then he stopped next to Hope and smiled down at him—something that didn’t set him at ease at all—before he turned his attention to Hope.

"Miss, I think it’s best you wait outside."

Declan held tight to Hope’s hand. She wasn’t going anywhere.

"Doctor Hall." The doctor’s gaze met his, and Declan did his best to put as much determination behind his look as he could. "She stays."

The doctor glanced between him and Hope, then shook his head with a slight laugh. "Duncan said you were obstinate." Then he let out a sigh and looked him in the eye, his light brown features going taut. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

Hope’s hand turned in his, then she laced their fingers together. He didn’t look at their joined hands or fully at her profile looking up at Dr. Hall. But having her warm hand in his settled him enough he could answer.

"I was shot."

Her fingers tightened.

"Yes," the doctor said. "The bullet struck here along the orbit surrounding your left eye." He indicated a place on his own head near his left temple. Declan nodded. "The impact shattered that portion of bone. Remarkably, there was no brain involvement." That had to be something, he supposed. The doctor opened the chart and sat it on Declan’s lap. He stared at the diagram of an eye. "The bullet then exited here," he said, pointing to the lower part of the iris on the diagram.

"Unfortunately," the doctor continued as he pointed to the middle portion of the eye. Hope’s hand squeezed his again. The doctor didn’t have to tell Declan how bullets worked. He knew all about what they did upon exiting a body. He’d watched through his sniper scope at least twelve times what his shot had done to his target.

But he needed to hear anyhow. He needed the words to be spoken aloud.

"Once it exited, it decimated the surrounding tissue."

Declan took in a shuddering breath. Surprisingly, the monitor remained steady.

"So…" Declan lifted his gaze to the doctor. "Could anything be done to save it?"

The doctor pursed his lips as he took the chart back up and closed it. He leveled his gaze on Declan. "No."

"I see."

Declan closed his eyes—he could swear he felt the sensation of his eye closing under the bandages. Then the irony of those two words hit him and he laughed.

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