“She had a severe asthma attack exacerbated by the smoke inhalation. Her lungs didn’t sufficiently respond to anti-inflammatories, so we had to intubate her to stem the possibility of respiratory failure. Once her lungs are recovered and able to work on their own again, we’ll be able to remove the tube. Probably in the morning. She also has burns on her hands and forearms.
Christ, from pulling the burning pieces of ceiling off of him, he bet. Sonofabitch. “But . . . but she’s going to be okay?” he asked, needing to hear her say it again.
“She will. You both will. Your burns are minor and your CT scan was clear. You just have a pretty killer bump on your head.”
He put his hand to his hair and flinched. Bump? That thing was a fucking mountain. “I don’t know how that happened.”
She frowned. “When you think you’re ready, there’s a police officer here who’d like to talk to you. He might be able to tell you more. Want me to send him in?”
Maverick nodded, and she turned to go. “Wait. Alexa’s mom. Cynthia Harmon?”
Erica returned to his bedside. “I’m afraid her mother was in severe respiratory distress from prolonged smoke inhalation, and she also had a bump to the head. The doctors are hopeful for a recovery, but we’ll know more in the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”
“Fuck. Okay.” Maverick shook his head, his thoughts a wreck. “Sorry for the language.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry about it, hon. You’ve had a rough night.” She disappeared out the door. Martin came in shortly after.
“Christ, Maverick. You look like hell,” Martin said.
“Fuck you, too,” he said.
“We found you and Alexa lying together on the front porch of her mom’s house. It looked like Alexa pulled you out before passing out herself.”
His gaze cut to her. She’d pulled him out?
He shook his head. “I don’t remember. Something hit me, and then—” He shook his head again. Flashes of disconnected images came together, but he couldn’t piece them together to make any sense.
Martin sighed. “Grant Slater hit you. With a liquor bottle, as best we can tell. The house is a total loss, so it’s going to take us a while to sift through all the evidence. But if I had to guess, I’d say he set the fire.”
Rage was a living beast inside Maverick, stalking around and demanding release. “Goddamn Slater,” he bit out. “I—”
A moan.
His gaze whipped back to Alexa. Her eyes fluttered, her wrapped hands struggling to move.
“I’m here, Al. I’m right here.” He tore the oxygen mask off of his head and slid out of bed. His back and shoulders hurt like a motherfucker, so he grasped the IV pole and used it for support.
Martin reached out a hand. “You sure you should—”
“Try to keep me away from her.” He limped to her bed and gently sat on the edge. “I’m here, Alexa. You’re safe. I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” If he’d taken Slater out at the house after he’d attacked her, this never would’ve happened. So much for playing it by the books. And trying to be the good guy.
Her eyes swam, then finally fixed on him. He could tell the moment her mind snapped to some semblance of awareness. She moaned again as panic cut lines into her face.
“Stay calm, Al. You’re pretty banged up. You burned your hands helping me and your lungs need some time to recover from the severe asthma attack and smoke inhalation. The nurse said the tube can probably come out in the morning.” His thoughts raced to what else she needed to know. “Your mom’s here, too. She also had pretty bad smoke inhalation. That’s all I know so far.”
She pointed to his head, her expression full of questions.
“My head?” he asked. She nodded. “I’m good.”
She frowned.
“Alexa,” Martin said, “do you know how Maverick got hit on the head?”
Her face went white and she moaned, frustration clear in her helpless gestures.
Martin held up a hand. “How about this? I say something, and you just shake your head yes or no?” She nodded.
“Did you see Grant at the house?” She nodded. Surprise flooded through Maverick. Grant had been there the whole time? He looked to Alexa, confusion swamping him.
“Did you talk to him?” Another yes.
“Did he admit anything to you?” Another yes.
“Did he admit or did you see him hit Maverick?” She shrugged, but her expression said she had more to say on the topic. But Maverick knew—the fucker had totally jacked him up. Not only had Maverick not seen him, but he had no memory after the hit.
“Was he inside the house when you came out?” Martin asked.
She nodded. Did that mean . . .
“Did you find a body?” Maverick asked.
Martin nodded. “No positive ID yet. But one deceased in the house.”
Slater was dead? Mav’s mind reeled, shock and relief warring through him.
Erica pushed back into the room. “Mr. Rylan, what the heck do you think you’re doing? Get back in bed and leave Miss Harmon alone.”
“Ma’am—”
“That’s an order. The rest of this can wait until the woman can fully breathe on her own.” She nailed both of the men with a no-nonsense stare.
Maverick pressed a kiss to Alexa’s forehead. “I’ll be right over there, baby.”
Al watched him move away, sadness clear on her face.
“What about this?” Erica said, gesturing at his bed. “Get in, Mr. Rylan.”
“Maverick,” he said, climbing back in but restless as hell over the ten feet separating them.
“Okay, Maverick. I see how it is, so I have an idea you might like.” In that moment, he couldn’t do anything but obey her; he was still too shell-shocked by the news that Slater was actually dead. He laid his ass down on a groan. Erica did some rearranging and pushed their beds closer together, leaving just enough narrow space for someone to walk between. “Better?”
“Yeah,” he said. “As good as can be in the midst of all this.”
“Sometimes that’s all you have,” Erica said, turning on Martin. “Officer, you’re going to have to come back.”
He nodded. “I’ll let everyone know you’re both awake. They’re all here.”
“Thanks,” Maverick said, the comfort of having his brothers, his family, around easing some of the turmoil from the night.
“Now both of you get some rest,” the nurse said, dimming the light.
He turned to Alexa, whose big, wide eyes were on him. “Christ, I love you, Alexa.” She laid her bundled hands on her heart and looked at him, so much love shining from her eyes. Just then, that was all he needed. Because he had more to say. So much more. But he’d wait til she could speak, too.
Sleep came to him fitfully. His body ached, his worries focused on Alexa, and his mind kept wandering to any one of a million questions. Had Grant been at the house when Cynthia arrived? Or had he surprised her by arriving while she was packing her things? And why had Grant gone to the house in the first place? What had been the point? Maverick just didn’t know. And maybe now they’d never find out.