Page 71 of Heston
Funny how a woman instantly recognized trepidation in her husband’s tone.
“Alex,” she answered, giving him reassurance and all of her love.
“You’re back.” His voice broke.
She gave his much larger hand a squeeze, signifying a hearty yes! Not that he’d understand, given how limp her bandaged fingers were.
He squeezed back just hard enough for her to know he understood.
Her gorgeous hero leaned his handsome body over hers, slid one arm beneath her, and scooped her out of bed. “Am I hurting you?” he asked as he dropped into the recliner at her bedside and carefully arranged her on his lap. “You’ve been out of it for days, and you’ve got several broken bones. You’re healing and you’ve had surgery, sweetheart. You have to keep that helmet on, and I don’t want to—”
“I have a helmet? Who cares? Kiss me,” she whispered as she looked up at him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pressed the tiniest kiss into her hair.
“No, here.” She pursued her lips.
The stubborn man blessed her forehead with a softer kiss.
And that would have to do. For now.
“How are the kids?” she asked groggily.
“Missing their mom. Please tell me if I’m hurting you.”
She lifted her bandaged hand. “What’d I do, break a finger?”
“You don’t remember, do you?”
The way he asked was telling. Kelsey gulped. “Umm, I guess… no? We were looking at the sunrise up on Mount Rainier and then—” She drew a blank and shrugged. “Nothing. What’d I do? Slip and fall down the mountain? And, oh yeah, umm… where are we? We’re not still in Washington?”
“No, sweetheart, you’re in our critical care unit at TEAM HQ. Libby, Judy, and McKenna have been hovering over you ever since…” His belly expanded against her left side, but it radiated around her back to her other side.
She winced. “Ouch. My side—do I have a broken rib?”
He held up three fingers. “Three broken ribs, one broken hip, clavicle, wrist, and three broken fingers, all on your right side. I don’t want to frighten you, but someone shot you the morning we were up on Emmons Glacier.”
She had to look up at him then, to make sure he wasn’t joking. “We were talking about Mount Saint Helens and… and then… I got shot?”
Alex traced a fingertip over the curl of her right ear. “Give me your left hand. It’s okay. I’ll be gentle.”
She did, and he directed it to her scalp behind that ear. “Stitches? Did someone shoot me in my head?”
“Bastard tried,” Alex growled.
“Did he shoot you?” she nearly screeched.
“Kelsey, yes, but nothing serious. Sit back. Lean into me. Please.”
“You always say it’s nothing serious, Alex. Let me see. Let me take care of you. That’s my job.” By then she sounded hysterical, and Kelsey didn’t know why she’d gone from zero-to-sixty so quickly.
With one big, warm hand, Alex pressed her cheek to his chest. “That’s one of the reasons I love you. Here you are, battered and lucky to be alive, but worried about me. Give me this, sweetheart. I need to hold you more than I need anything else right now. You. Just you, safe in my arms and alive and breathing on your own. Please, give me this. You’re all I need. Just you, back from the dead. I thought I’d lost you.”
She relaxed into his big, warm, muscular body, content to breathe the scent of him back into her soul. Epithelial by epithelial. Cedar and campfire smoke, forever her favorite fragrances. “I have no memory past us talking about Mount Saint Helens.”
“Good. The asshat who shot you didn’t intend to kill you, just nick you. After he succeeded, you slipped and fell into the White River. The bastard also got a shot off at me, but it’s only a flesh wound.”
“Alex,” she said as threateningly as she could manage. “I need to see it.”
