Everyone else had gone home, with the exception of Michael, who had merely left only to grab a shower and a sandwich. The day had been a constant parade of support. Jake knew from personal experience that on some deep level Shane was registering it, but on the surface, he was thinking only of Lacie. How much he loved her. How she had to come out of this alright, because anything else was simply unacceptable.
Jake also knew that Shane was blaming himself, berating himself for all the things he could have or should have done differently. How he should have known, should have sensed Davidson’s level of psychosis. How he shouldn’t have waited so long to speak with Corinne. How he should have found her sooner.
Unfortunately, he would have to fight those demons on his own. There was nothing that anyone could say or do to ease the clawing grief in his heart and mind. The only one who had any hope of helping him heal and get past it was Lacie.
Jake stepped up to the bedside and looked down at the woman who had captured his brother’s heart. The last time he had seen her, she had been beaming, radiant with happiness over some small gift Shane had left for her. With her shy smile and contagious ebullience, she was a perfect mate for Shane, and Jake had liked her instantly.
It was hard to reconcile that woman with the pale, fragile form before him. Her hair, carefully braided for practicality of care, was tucked along the pillow. A mask covered her nose and mouth, providing the oxygen her lungs needed to hasten the effects of the drugs on her tortured body, as did the fluids that flowed through her veins, attempting to flush out the narcotics. At least the padded restraints had been removed; they’d been an unfortunate necessity when they’d first brought her in. Her body had been racked with seizures, symptoms of withdrawal from the powerful narcotics Davidson had been giving her. Michael had said that her body chemistry was way off-kilter, but chemical genius that he was, he’d devised the right combination to stabilize her fairly quickly.
It brought back such painful memories. Memories he thought he’d reconciled.
He exhaled heavily, then returned to resume his place against the window. He would share this vigil with Shane, lending his own quiet support, as Shane had for him.
An hour passed, maybe two. Nurses came in and silently checked her vitals, disappearing again without a word spoken. Monitors and machines blipped and hissed in the private room; the only light came from neon lines on the screens and the automatic nightlight just inside the door.
*
It felt like only minutes had passed since the silvery mist had enveloped her. Gone was the ethereal sensation of being comprised entirely of light; in its place was an aching heaviness, as if someone had poured concrete into every one of her limbs. This was different from before, though. Instead of the muddled, painful disorientation she’d experienced at the cabin, this felt ...cathartic.
There was something strapped lightly over her nose and mouth - a soft, rubbery plastic. Each breath filled her lungs with the most wonderful cool, clean air. Gentle whirs and hums filled the quiet space around her, and there was the unmistakable scent of rubbing alcohol, noticeable even through the mask.
With some effort, Lacie opened her eyes. The room was dark, but there was no mistaking it for anything but a hospital room. And at her side.... Shane!
Relief and joy flooded through her at the sight of him, along with a pang of sorrow. He looked so sad, so weary, but still, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen, and her heart lifted.
Hypnotic blue eyes blinked once, then widened. “Lacie...” he swallowed down the choking sob in his throat and whispered her name like a prayer. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ll get Mick,” Jake said quietly, disappearing from the back of the room.
Lacie’s heart pounded in her chest; tears formed in her eyes. All of the emotion of the last week flooded into her, overwhelming her. It was okay to let go now. Shane was here, and nothing bad could happen to her when Shane was with her.
“Don’t cry, Lacie,” Shane whispered, yet she clearly saw wetness on his own sinfully long lashes.
She reached up, attempting to remove the mask over her face, but Shane caught her hand in his and pulled it to his lips. “No,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Don’t say anything, sweetheart. Just...listen.”
Lacie blinked to clear her vision. Shane kissed each of her knuckles, then held her hand to his cheek. “I thought I lost you, Lacie. I don’t ever want to feel like that again. I won’t survive it.”
Lacie tried to stroke his jaw, but her fingers weren’t working properly. She could feel the growth of a day or more against her palm, however. It was surprisingly soft. How much did he know? Would he feel the same way if he knew what Craig had done?