Page 51 of Never Fear (Whiskey Ridge)
And hoping like hell I wasn’t too late.
Four hours.
That was how long it took from the time I ran throughthe front doors of the hospital to now, when they were finally allowing me back to see her.
Four hours of tests and trying to wake her and get her stable enough that they weren’t worried she would flatline.
Some shit about how I wasn’t family was their reason for keeping me away from her. I didn’t mention that there’d been a threat on her life mere minutes ago. All they knew was that she’d been in an accident. There was no need to alarm the whole damn hospital. Besides, if some fucker walked through those doors looking to finish the job, I’d know.
I was here now. She was safe.
But as I walked through the door to McKenna’s room and found an oxygen tube stuck up her nose, I lost the belief that I knew what I was doing when it came to her.
McKenna made me lose all sight of the life I knew, making her the axis my entire being rotated around. And when I thought I’d lost that only hours ago? My world crumbled.
She tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes, tried to look away and pretend she wasn’t affected by any of this, but she knew just as much as I did that she could let her walls down around me.
“Baby.” The one word was a whispered plea as I crossed the room to her and took her hand in mine. With my other, I cupped her chin and gently turned her head to face me. I scanned her hair—now pulled back from the wound—to find three stitches right at the edge of her hairline. That, combined with the concussion and massive bruise across her chest, had me nearly breaking at the sight of her.
“Did they shave it?” she asked, voice wobbling, chin shaking.
I shook my head, meeting her gaze. “No, baby. You look as beautiful as always.”
Her mouth twisted into a frown as she bit down on a choked laugh. “You’re lying.”
“Never,” I promised.
“You’re being too sweet.” She bashfully looked away, like the eye contact between the two of us was too much for her to handle right now.
“Is there such a thing?”
“There is when you’re…” she met my gaze again, blue eyes shimmering even in the dim light, “you.” She sucked in a breath, trying to hide the wince when she did. “Maybe I hit my head too hard.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe,” I murmured. If shoving away this thing between us made her feel better, I’d let her.
“When can I go home?” she asked, and I was surprised they hadn’t told her already.
“In a couple hours.”
Her brows scrunched. “What time is it?”
“Just past two in the morning.”
“I was out that long?” A sort of quiet panic took over her features, like she was scared of the lost time in between the crash and now.
“Nothing happened while you were out, I promise. I found you after the crash and brought you straight here.” My hands flexed, heartbeat ticking up a notch with the need to obliterate whoever did this to her. “No one walkedthrough those doors with any ill intent toward you.” I leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to her temple. “I will always protect you. And I—” I choked on the word. Swallowed to clear the emotion. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there tonight.”
“It’s my fault,” she whispered, tears spilling onto her cheeks.
“Baby, no.” I brushed away the drops with careful strokes of my thumbs. “You may be stubborn, but I know how to be persistent.” I wanted to list all the ways I fucked up tonight. All the holes in my chest where the thought of losing her stabbed me ruthlessly. But this wasn’t about me. “You’re okay. You’re alive, and that’s the most important part.”
“Does Brynne know?” McKenna didn’t seem to be good at talking about feelings, so her avoidance of where the conversation was heading didn’t hurt.
“Booker is…aware.” More like scouring every corner in Whiskey Ridge to find the truck I’d described to him over the phone three hours ago. I hadn’t been able to call him right away. Not with McKenna’s life teetering on the edge that first hour. “He told Brynne a little bit ago. She’ll probably be storming through those doors any minute. But, McKenna,” I shifted, squeezing her hand, “I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”
She inhaled, steeling herself for the inevitable rehashing of the events that took place between her leaving work and the crash.
And she did.
