Page 118 of Spying Under the Mistletoe
After what feelslike several lifetimes, a woman in scrubs enters the waiting area.
Every pair of eyes in the room shifts in her direction.
Please let it be Landon, I silently beg. I mean, unless she’s come to share bad news…
“Landon Reed?” Her expression gives nothing away.
We stand, and I grip Kiera’s upper arm. I’d be surprised if she has any circulation left in it.
“We were able to remove the bullet,” the surgeon explains. “He sustained damage to his shoulder, but it could’ve been a lot worse. He’ll need rehab over the next few months to help it heal.”
“But he’ll be okay?” The words leave my lungs in a big rush of air.
“He’ll be stiff for the next few weeks. And he’ll need a lot of help in the beginning.”
“I hope he does a better job following doctor’s orders than you did when you were shot,” Liam says to Jayden with a smirk.
Isabelle laughs and pats her fiancé’s arm. “I suspect he won’t be any better than Jayden was. We might have to duct-tape him to his couch.”
“Duct tape might not be a bad idea,” Adam says. “Landon isn’t the most gracious when it comes to accepting help.”
“Wait until he gets to the part where he needs help showering for the first few days.” Chuckling, Jayden throws his arm around Isabelle’s shoulder. She turns bright red and slaps his hand.
He laughs harder and pulls her in front of him. His arms wrap around her waist.
“I can do it,” I blurt before my inner filter realizes what I’ve just volunteered to do. “I…I mean, I can help him while he’s recovering. If he wants me to.”
Liam nods, looking slightly relieved. “Can we see him?” He asks the surgeon.
“He’s still coming out of general anesthesia, and it’s late. You can see him tomorrow during visiting hours.”
Kiera, Ava, and Isabelle give me a he’s-going-to-be-okay hug.
Now, I just have to hope he’ll want to see me after everything that’s happened.
33
Landon
I can’t sayI’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be hit by a train, but with the way my body aches, as I slowly open my eyes, I have a pretty good idea.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light in the room.
The hospital room.
Vague memories of what happened scroll through my mind. Following Chloe to the store because we’d received a tip that Nikolai would be there. Spotting him dressed as Santa. Having Santa pull out a gun and shoot at Adam and me.
I went down, but that didn’t stop me from getting in a few shots first.
I don’t remember too much after that—other than Chloe kissing my forehead and whispering something I didn’t catch.
Everything else is a colorful blur.
The copper-colored hair of the sleeping woman curled up on the chair catches my attention. Chloe’s good arm is resting on the back of the seat, her head on it like it’s a pillow.
Her hair shimmers in the light spilling from the window. If it weren’t for the ache in my shoulder, I’d assume I’m dead, and she’s an angel.
Christ, she’s fucking beautiful.
