Page 149 of Forbidden Protector

The man who shot my abuser in the head without looking away from me.

The beeping sound blares through my skull.

I gasp awake.Swallowing the air like I’ve been starved of it. My ears ring, my chest heaves. For a moment, blackness threatens to swallow my sight.

“Just breathe.”

I do. In and out. My vision starts to clear, and the ringing begins to fade.

Initially, all I can see is light. Bright, scorching light that threatens to burn my retinas. But then my eyes adjust, taking in the cold, clinical fluorescent light with relief.

I lie back down with a long, careful breath.

Only for it to be knocked back out of me a second later.

Aimee’s arms wrap themselves around me tighter than I ever thought possible. All I can smell is her strawberry shampoo and the detergent of her scrubs. Her tears fall into my hair as she strokes it so fondly.

My own tears fall freely, unashamedly. Because I fucking missed my sister. My best friend.

And even though I don’t know what’s coming for us next, I know we’ll face it together.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Aimee scolds as seriously as she can through her blubbering tears. “You asshole.”

“What are sisters for?”

She pulls away, thumping my arm as she withdraws. “I mean it. You do that to me again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Ow!” I turn to the attending nurse, who’s standing with a bemused expression in the corner. “Excuse me, do your doctors usually treat their patients like this?”

“I’m out,” she replies, throwing her arms up in defeat. “I’m not paid enough to deal with two of you.”

As she makes her way to the door, Aimee calls after her. “Thank you, Aisha. For everything.”

“Come back to work soon, okay?” Aisha replies before making her exit.

I look around in confusion. “Are we not at Lennox Hill?”

“This,” Aimee gestures around. “Is my new office. Jack set it up in the bunker, so I quote-unquote ‘wouldn’t get rusty’.”

“You’re stitching up bullet wounds again, aren’t you?” I deadpan.

“At least the commute is better than L.A.,” she jokes back. “Aisha’s been a saint, too. Covering for me at work while I’m under house arrest.”

I smile at my sister, taking in her unkempt hair, the dark circles under her eyes, and the glow of a job well done. This is the Aimee I remember. The one I’d wait up for after a twelve-hour shift, the one who’d yell at me for not replacing the coffee.

The woman I met back at the cafe feels like an entirely different person. I feel a small sense of satisfaction that the Aimee wearing all those fancy clothes is still the Aimee I know and love. Maybe things haven’t changed as much as I thought.

“When I said to Kate I missed the action of the E.R., I didn’t expect her to bring you home like this.” She gives me a once-over before approaching the monitor I now see is hooked up to me.

“I got high again, didn’t I?” I ask carefully. I may not remember all the details, but I know a comedown when I feel one.

I don’t know I’m holding my breath until Aimee turns back to face me.

“It wasn’t your fault, Roisin,” she says, so earnestly I can feel my eyes prickling with tears. “Eda Romero was abusing you for years. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine for not telling you. I thought keeping that part of your life from you would protect you from it. But now–”

Aimee cuts herself off with her own tears, and I immediately reach over to grab her hands. “It’s not your fault, Aimee,” I repeat back to her.

When we hug again, it’s my turn to stroke the back of her head.

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