Page 66 of Second Go-Round

A hand touched my shoulder. “Jarod.”

Turning, I took in the face of a stranger, a man covered in filth like me, his hard hat askew. His grin proved contagious. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he said.

I glanced down at Christine—she still lay pale and unmoving beneath the early morning light filtering in through the tangled mess around us. “I’m gonna love you forever, sweet girl.”

Chapter 28

Christine

Pain shot down through my leg, and I came awake with a shriek, thrashing. “Fuck!” I screamed again, agony radiating up my thigh and blinding lights killing my eyes.

“The hell are you doing to her?” I heard Jarod holler from too far away.

I closed my right hand into a fist, but his fingers weren’t there for me to grasp.

“Jarod!” Blinking and squinting, I could barely make out the man leaning over me.

“Shh,” he soothed with his voice as pressure once more as coolness slid through my body, numbing the pain and easing my mind. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“Need him…”

“He’ll come along with us to the hospital.”

I closed my eyes and gave over to the darkness again, trusting Jarod to be there when I woke again.

A warm hand slid down my cheek, and I breathed in deeply, my mind swimming through a murky haze. At least there was no pain.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” I murmured, smiling at the voice I’d know anywhere.

“Thank God.” Dad’s voice broke, and I recognized the strong fingers squeezing my left hand.

I forced my eyelids open. Dim light bathed the fuzziness around me. No more dust stung my nose, nor did choking dryness scratch my throat. I floated in a painless wave that didn’t quite feel real, but I could grasp Dad’s hand. Could smell the scent of his cologne I’d adored since childhood.

“I’m alive,” I whispered even though I didn’t have the energy to pinch myself just to be sure.

“Yes,” Dad said, his voice wobbling. “You’re at Mass General.”

I turned my head slowly, searching the small hospital room as it gradually came into focus. “Where’s Jarod?”

“I sent him home to shower and change out of the borrowed scrubs he’s been wearing since they brought you both here.”

“He’s okay?”

“Banged up a bit. A broken finger is the worst of his injuries.”

It took me some time to process his answer, but I turned my head back toward Dad. “How long?”

“Three days since the explosion, two since you were admitted.” Wetness welled in his eyes, and he lifted my hand, kissing my knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, my voice sounding tired as the rest of me felt.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I promised I wouldn’t go any bars downtown, but I didn’t want our night to end and neither of our places would have been safe.” It took me awhile to get all the words out, but Dad didn’t interrupt.

He stared at me as though working through my explanation. “You love him,” he finally stated as though certain.

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