“There is that,” Eliza muttered.
“No way am I not bringing her in just because she’ll have to explain why her head hurts,” Caleb snapped. “They don’t have to know she didn’t hurt her head in the explosion. How do we know she didn’t?”
Eliza held her hands up. “I’m not arguing. That’s between you and her. Certainly wouldn’t hurt to get her a prescription for those headaches after the one she had earlier.”
He hated the idea that she suffered at all. And the idea that until now no one had ever been there to care for her when she suffered was more than he could stand.
“It’s not normal for a headache to cause nosebleeds,” he said fiercely. “What if she has a brain bleed? With the kind of pain she was describing and the mental strain she was under, it certainly seems possible.”
Eliza shrugged and then stood, motioning for one of the medics.
“Guess the best way to know is to bring her in and get her head checked out,” Eliza said.
“Traitor,” Ramie grumbled.
For some reason, that slight complaint completely unraveled Caleb. Maybe it was the fact that she was injecting levity in a situation fraught with turmoil. Whatever the case, his behind slumped downward to rest on the backs of his legs and he found his strength gone.
The adrenaline that had given him superhuman strength and focus just moments before was over in an instant and he felt too old and weary to even push himself to his feet.
Even after Ramie had been placed on a backboard and boosted upward to one of the stretchers, he remained where he was, hands shaking.
“Come on, I’ll help you up,” Eliza said, her voice gentle. “You’ll need to go to the hospital with Ramie.”
Caleb lifted his gaze to Eliza’s, his gut churning so much he worried he’d end up being sick all over the ground.
“She almost died,” he whispered.
“We all almost died,” Eliza amended. “But we didn’t. Ramie warned us quickly enough.”
“Caleb? Where are you?”
Ramie’s worried question spurred him to action. He allowed Eliza to give him a hand up so he didn’t embarrass himself by face-planting on the ground. Then he went to the stretcher and leaned over to kiss Ramie on the forehead.
“I’m right here, baby. Now let’s get you to the hospital so I know that you’re truly all right.”
TWENTY-NINE
BY the time Ramie was discharged from the ER, a battery of tests run to ensure she had no serious injury, including a CT of her head at Caleb’s insistence, she was exhausted and feeling the aftershocks of the bomb blast.
The only injuries she sustained were bruising and a feeling of being hit by a train. She was sore and stiff, every muscle protesting the slightest movement.
Caleb stopped by a twenty-four-hour pharmacy to have her prescriptions filled since it was an obscene hour of the morning the next day, and Ramie figured he had likely scared the poor pharmacist to death with his appearance because the script was filled in a matter of minutes.
“He likely thinks you’re a prescription drug addict,” Ramie said in amusement as they drove away.
He glared darkly at her, his scowl making her giggle, which only served to make him glower more fiercely.
“I’m so glad you find this so funny,” he muttered. “Do you forget you could have gotten killed today—yesterday? Whenever the fuck it was.”
“But I didn’t,” she said gently. “And you could have gotten killed too but I’m not biting your head off for daring to be in danger. You didn’t have to go, you know. I had to be there but you didn’t.”
“Stop right there,” he snapped, his mood as black as his expression. “Swear to God if you suggest one more fucking time that I should just leave you to your fate and not give a crap where you go or the danger you’re in I’m going to throttle you.”
“I was merely pointing out the hypocrisy of you being pissed at me for almost getting killed when you did the same,” she said in a mild voice.
“I’m not pissed at?. . .??Okay, maybe I’m pissed,” he grumbled. “Give me a break. I was scared, all right?”
“So was I,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Do you have any idea how badly I panicked when I realized there was a bomb inside and didn’t know if I’d be able to warn everyone in time?”
He sighed and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to her palm in a tender gesture. “I know, baby. I’m sorry. I don’t deal very well with feeling helpless and right now that’s exactly how I feel. I’m not used to other people controlling my happiness, my mood or my decisions. But you do.”
“I do what?” she queried.
“You have complete control over my happiness, my mood and my decision making,” he said starkly.
“Ah, the control freak in you frowns on that, huh.”