Page 4 of His Forever Princess

It didn't help.

What had they been talking about? Communications. Or the lack thereof.

"I need to be able to communicate with Eloise. And Clara. And there are others." She opened her eyes to a wavy reflection of him in the outdated stainless steel fridge.

He remained in the doorway, one arm propped on his hip.

Not on his hip, she realized.

Her surprise had her reacting before she'd thought it through. She whirled and took two steps toward him before her thoughts caught up. She stopped short.

"You're hurt."

Blood, stark red, was soaking through the wad of tissues he held against his left side.

She caught the flash of surprise in his eyes before his expression went carefully blank.

"I got nicked. I'm fine."

She'd seen his nicks before. Once at the ranch, he'd nearly sliced his finger off while filing a horse’s hoof. He’d declared it so minor he didn't need to see a doctor.

She'd overruled him.

But back then, everything had been different. That was before their marriage had transformed into this cold, barren wasteland full of pressure mines.

They stared at each other, all of it hanging almost palpably in the air between them. The words they'd spoken and the ones they hadn't. The missed anniversaries. Their daughters growing up without him. Both of them missing Maggie so deeply for so long.

He looked away first, a muscle jumping in his cheek.

He didn't like this either, she realized. He didn't want to be here with her.

Why had he insisted so furiously, then?

His sense of duty.

Of course.

Like recognized like. She understood duty. She was good at it.

It was everything else that she could never seem to manage.

"The mirror is too high." It seemed as if he was speaking through gritted teeth. "I can't get a good look at it." He twisted and she saw dark stitches against his skin. "Would you... please... take a look for me?"

She had to clear her throat to push words past the lump that wanted to choke her. "Yes. Of course."

Her feet took her to him before she could truly steel herself. The bathroom was minuscule, so she stayed in the doorway and bent to examine his wound.

"Was it...?" She couldn't say the words.

"A bullet. Just grazed me. Doctor checked it out and it passed right through. I'm fine."

He sounded so matter-of-fact, but all she could do was remember how they’d stood together at Maggie’s charity ball. One moment, he'd been at a polite distance. Not so far that anyone would know they were estranged. He had once found it difficult to be more a few inches from her. He'd often stayed glued to her side, his hand at her back.

There'd been a crack that split the air, and she'd found herself unceremoniously pushed to the ground. Gideon had covered her body with his.

Was that the moment he'd taken this bullet? One meant for her?

"I just need to know if the stitches held." His voice had gentled.

---