“She’s just being moved to her room now. How about we take a walk and we can go over those questions.”
I nod and mutely follow behind. He goes over her injuries in more detail and tells me that she will need to be admitted for observation and hopefully her swelling will be down enough for her cast to be placed by morning.
“I understand that you rode in with her, but it’s been a few hours and her bruising had gotten a little worse. Be prepared, Mr. Keeze—she isn’t going to look like the woman you brought in here. The bruising will fade. The bones will heal. She’s alive.”
He gives me a moment. I slow my breathing and will my heart to calm before it beats out of my chest. With a shaking hand, I push open her door and step into the room. When I see her battered face for the first time, a deep rumble bursts through my chest. I push it down and focus on being there for her. Hesitantly, I walk forward. Then I take the chair placed on her right side and reach out for her slim hand. Feeling the warmth against my skin is the green light my soul has been waiting for.
I drop my head to the bed, next to her hip, and press my lips to her fingers.
The bed shakes with my heaving breaths. I let it all out, prepared to stuff my pain back inside when she wakes and be the strength she now needs.
“I love you,” I whisper hoarsely against her skin, closing my eyes tight and vowing to God for the first time in too many years to be the man she deserves.
Chapter 24—Emmy
I don’t want to move. I keep my eyes closed long after I heard him whisper those three words, their meaning filling my body, effortlessly picking up the pieces of my heart, which I thought would be forever broken.
Turning my head and ignoring the soreness in my neck, I open my eyes. The lighting in the hospital room causes me to blink a few times, the tint on the windows keeping the sunlight from being to harsh, but my dry eyes take a few moments to adjust. My body hurts, but the majority of my pain is coming from my arm and my leg. I know from before the doctor brought me in here that I broke both my left arm and leg. Other than some other minor injuries, I’m fine—all things considered.
Having Maddox here is just the medicine I need. Well, that and the high dose of pain meds they pushed through my IV thirty minutes before. I’m sure my pain level would be quite different had I not gotten those.
Moving my eyes down to where I feel him against my side, I take in his hunched over form. His large frame is folded in the plastic chair, both tan hands wrapped around my much paler one, his head lying against the mattress so that his mouth is resting next to my fingers. His eyes are closed, and if it weren’t for the wet tear streaks falling down his cheeks, I wouldn’t even think he was awake. Even though he’s hurting, he’s more at peace in this moment that I’ve ever seen him.
“Hey,” I mumble. My voice is deeper and rougher than normal.
When he hears me speak, he jerks up in his seat—eyes wide and hopeful. “God…”
He doesn’t say anything else, so I give him a small smile, trying to let him know that I’m okay.
“Do you need the nurse?”
I shake my head.
“Water?” His brow crinkles, and if he weren’t still holding my hand in a death grip, I would run my fingers over them.
Again, I shake my head, causing his frown to deepen.
“Bathroom?”
“Stop, Mad. I’m good. I have everything I need right here next to me,” I sigh. It takes me a little while to get the words out—my throat rawer than I thought. “I just need you.”
His expression changes—his face going soft as his eyes heat. It’s an expression I’ve never seen from him but always dreamt of.
“I was coming back to you, Em.”
“I know.” I smile and pull my hand from his grip.
His eyes go wide until he notices that my intent isn’t to pull away.
I reach out weakly and run my fingertips along his stubbled cheek. “I like this.”
“Do you?” His lips twitch, and I feel the mood lighten.
“I do.” I run my fingers along his jaw a few more times before I cup his cheek in my palm, looking deep into his eyes before speaking. “I love you too,” I whisper.
He jumps in his seat. Not much though, and if I hadn’t been studying his reaction, I would have missed it. His eyes search mine for a few beats, the uncertainty clear as day. I give him the time he needs, preparing myself for if he rejects me. This is, in a sense, our moment of truth. His jaw ticks and his deep breathing fills the silence.
I watch his emotions fighting for control, each one playing out in a fascinating display. The fear. Struggle to believe. And the hope that he can. Them, finally, I see them all clear and the acceptance and love take over.
“My sweet angel,” he finally says on a sob.