Page 38 of Troubled Water
He snaps off a salute. “Sir. Yes, sir.” Then he mutters, “Only becausemywife is with her.”
Still, the minute we clear the door, Cal’s hand comes down on the back of my neck and squeezes hard. We’ll always be at each other’s throats, but when it counts, when the waters are troubled, there are a few people Bethany and I know we can count on without question.
Who knew love would save all of us after the way we were all brought together, which was the travesty of it being torn apart?
33
YESTERDAY EVENING
Isent Libby and Iris home. I want it to be just me and Parker when he finally makes it out of the interrogation into his actions last night. I knew he was completely justified in organizing the flurry of bullets that penetrated the windows of McCallister Construction.
After all, I was still breathing.
The scent of antiseptic fills my nose as I blink up at the ceiling. Because of our baby, I’ve been denying pain medication all day. Subsequently, my shoulder aches, a deep, throbbing pain radiating from the wound that knocked me out of the chair, permitting Parker to take a second shot—the kill shot that savedmy life. I try taking a deep breath as I was instructed by the nurses earlier, but the shooting agony that caused my shoulder made me stop that torture.
Instead, I focus on even breaths that time along with the steady beeping of the one heart monitor I give a damn about—the baby’s. The rhythm of Parker and my child’s fragile life still fighting inside me, even after everything.
The memory hits me hard, sending a shiver down my spine. Parker’s eyes. I can still see them—so full of pain and desperation, as he loomed over me in the ambulance, rifle tossed over his shoulder. He’d had no choice. I know that. I know he was doing what he had to do to save me, us, but that won’t stop the memory from searing into his mind.
I wince as pain radiates through my shoulder. He shot me through the right arm to free me, the force knocking me from the chair. His bullet ripped through my shoulder and tore into the nuts of the man using me as a shield. If Parker hadn’t taken that shot, I might not be here. Neither would our baby.
The door creaks open softly, and there he is. Parker. His face is etched with a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration. I lift my left hand and beckon for him. Something shifts in the silvery depths of his eyes—relief, guilt?
Neither matters because clearly written on his face is the love I’ve been blessed with since he reentered my life over a decade ago.
“B.” Just my nickname, but even on that, his voice breaks as he strides forward toward the bed. His eyes immediately veer to the heart monitor, where the steady beat of our baby’s heart echoes in the small room. He lets out a shaky breath, and despite his strength to carry the world on his shoulders, I know him. I know he’s about to break.
My lips, probably the only part of me that won’t cause my shoulder to hurt, curve up in a smile. “Hey.”
He sits beside me, hand trembling as he reaches for mine with the one bearing my ring. The other is clutching a bag with plastic containers sticking out of it. I want to grin because my Parker brought me flowers, but I’ll wait. He needs to get whatever it is off his chest. I can feel the tension beneath his fingers, the barely contained storm of emotions he’s trying so hard to hold back for me.
Finally, the storm breaks and when it does, it’s like a crack of thunder outside. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, voice cracking. “I’m so, so sorry, Bethany.”
“You saved me,” I whisper. “You saved us.”
“It was because of me that you were in danger in the first place.”
“You had no choice. You had to take the shot.”
“I should’ve found another way,” he mutters, his jaw tight. His hand squeezes mine. “You should never be in danger because of me.”
“I’m here,” I remind him, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall. “And our baby is still alive. Because of you.”
His gaze drops to my belly, and the tension in his shoulders eases as he’s lulled by the same sound I am—the beeping of the monitor. He didn’t even know about the baby before everything went to hell. Now here we are—no longer just the two of us, but three. No longer a couple but a family.
His eyes soften and for the first time since walking into the room, I see the faintest hint of a smile. It is small, but it is there. That is enough for me to know we are going to be okay.The last twenty-four hours are not how anyone should spend a decade together, I muse as I pull my hand free from Parker’s so I can run it through his dark hair. He leans into my touch.
“I love you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Both of you.”
“I love you too. And we’re going to be okay. All of us.”
We are going to be okay. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, we would be okay. No matter what, we’ll face it together. But… “Did you bring me flowers?” I demand.
For just a moment, we’re transported to the date we first made love and how he frantically explained his mistake. What’s between us is no mistake. It never has been, it never will be. Neither is the bouquet of chocolate roses that Parker presents me with while lying in my hospital bed. “Happy anniversary, B. I want at least a hundred more years with you.”
I tug on his hair so he knows to come to me. Bracing himself on the hospital rails, he leans down far enough to kiss my lips. In that kiss, I feel the hard punch of desire, the strength of his protection, and the devotion of love.
I can’t wait for our child to know what it feels like as well.
