Page 73 of Ward

Grace

We’rebroughtbyambulance to the nearest hospital’s emergency room. Aidan insists on them placing us next to each other, to the point of threatening to have a helicopter take us somewhere else if they try to separate us.

“You’re very lucky,” the doctor tells me. He’s an older man with kind eyes and gray fuzz growing out of his ears. “The fall could’ve easily broken your ankle, but you walked away with a sprain. Well, limped away.” He chuckles and pats my brace over the blanket, trying to lighten my mood, but a sinking feeling pools in my stomach.

“When will I be able to dance again?”

“I’d give it a few months before you’re back to a hundred percent,” he says. “Physical therapy will expedite the process.”

“Thank you,” I tell him, somewhat reassured. He winks at me, then leaves, drawing the curtain closed so I can get some rest.

I listen to the doctor talking with Aidan on the other side of our shared curtain about his gunshot wound. I didn’t realize his leg was bleeding until we were already in the ambulance, and the EMT was cutting his pants open with scissors.

Aidan squeezed my hand and told me it was just a graze, nothing to worry about. Still, my throat tightened as the reality of what we’d just been through came rushing over me.

I cried silent tears all the way to Greenwich hospital.

The doctor discharges me a few hours later with a prescription for painkillers and explicit directions to make an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon as soon as possible. Aidan’s situation is a bit more complicated, what with the prolonged smoke inhalation, his cracked rib, and the bullet wound.

Jen is in the waiting area when they wheel me out.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she says, taking both my hands. “I was so worried about you, darling. I’ve booked you a suite at a hotel close by where you can get some rest.”

“How bad is the house?” I ask.

She cups my cheek. “We can talk about all that later. Right now, you need sleep.”

I crash as soon as my head hits the feather-down pillow. By the time I open my eyes again, it’s after noon. Aidan arrives at the suite sometime in the evening, along with the private nurse Jen hired to look after us both.

I’m resting in bed when I hear the hotel-room door open, followed by a gasp and Jen saying, “My God, you look awful.”

“Thanks.” Aidan chortles. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Where’s Grace? Is she all right?”

“She’s asleep.”

“Good,” he says. “Let her rest.”

I drift back to sleep. When I wake up later that evening, Aidan is asleep beside me with a flexible tube supplying oxygen under his nose. I watch his chest rise and fall. The parts of his body not covered by the blanket are peppered in blue and purple bruises.

We’ve both been through so much. I have no idea how we made it out of that terrible night alive. Watching the house burn with Aidan inside was worse than a panic attack. I desperately wanted to rush back in and help him fend off Liam, but every time I tried to stand, the pain in my ankle dragged me back to the ground.

Our nurse pokes her head into the room to check on us and, seeing that I’m awake, quietly slips in to freshen my water and help me to the bathroom. I eat some cheese and crackers before taking another dose of painkillers that put me out for the rest of the night and much of the next day.

Aidan and I don’t talk about what happened. Not until we’re dressed at the dining table, with bellies full of room service.

“How did Liam die?” I ask him.

Aidan wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a long, deep breath before he responds.

“Liam had the gun. I fought him for it. The fire was crawling toward the bed, and I knew he wasn’t going to let me out of there unless I made him. I pushed him off me, and his finger must’ve been on the trigger because the gun went off. It was an accident.”

I reach across the table to touch his hand. He strokes the side of my thumb.

“I don’t regret how it ended,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I knew that if he lived, you would never be safe. He wanted revenge, and he was ready to destroy everyone, including himself, and you, to get it.”

He brings my hand to the side of his face and then turns to kiss my palm.

“It took fighting for my life to realize that I've been punishing myself for things I can't take back, and holding myself accountable for things that are out of my control. I've spent twenty years feeling sorry for something I’ve apologized for more times than I can count. I'm a better man now than I was then, and a much better Dom. I wouldn’t make the same mistake again.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” I don’t need to have known him back then to know he’s a better person now. I'm not the same person I was when I set foot in Aidan’s house six months ago. I've seen and heard and experienced things that have changed me forever.

The day I met Aidan; my black-and-white world exploded into color.

“You've introduced me to the man I’ve become, little one,” he says. “And this new man wants to give you everything you deserve."

My stomach flips. “Does this mean you’re willing to break your rules about no sex with kink?”

Aidan’s gaze smolders with an intensity that makes my chest flush.

“Not just break them,” he says. “I intend to commit myself to making up for all these painful months of deprivation.” He reaches out to stroke my lip, then winces. “As soon as I can lift my arm without feeling like I’ve been trampled by a horse.”

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