Blood stained a two-foot radius of carpet beneath Hound’s prone body. The knife handle was still sticking out of his side, and he looked pale and lifeless.
“Is he even breathing?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. It was difficult to tell from where I stood, and I was terrified of the answer.
“For now,” Havoc replied, dipping a rag in the hot water and wringing it out. He carefully cleaned Hound’s side and surrounded the knife with additional wet towels, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.
Toby started to stir, so Zombie moved to stand guard in case the bastard woke up.
Needing to do something, I dropped to my knees by Hound’s head and pleaded with him to be okay until the ambulance arrived. The wait seemed to take years, rather than minutes. I could hardly move as Hound was secured onto a stretcher. My eyes locked onto his chest, searching for any signs of breath. As soon as the paramedics wheeled the stretcher toward the door, I bolted to my feet and faced off with Havoc. “I’m riding with him,” I said.
I expected an argument, but Havoc threw his hands in the air and stepped back.
The police pulled into the driveway, careful not to block the ambulance. I knew I’d need to give a statement, but they’d have to find me at the hospital, because there was no way I was leaving Hound’s side. Following the stretcher, I climbed in and sat where I was instructed to, grabbing Hound’s hand on his uninjured side. As they hooked him up to machines and we started toward the hospital, I prayed harder than I ever had in my life.
He came for me!
Hound knew what Toby was capable of, but even the threat of death hadn’t stopped him. Hound’s back was fucked up, he didn’t bring a weapon, and he still took one look at Toby’s hands around my throat and stepped inside the house to help me.
Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before.
And now, he was fighting for his life because of it.
The ambulance ride took forever. I’m sure it actually took only minutes, but it felt like an eternity. The paramedics kept busy while my attention stayed focused on every precious rise and fall of Hound’s chest. I was afraid to look away, afraid to even blink, willing him to keep breathing.
Once we made it to the hospital, they escorted me to the waiting room and wheeled him back to prepare for surgery.
Shortly after he disappeared down the hall, two police officers arrived to take my statement. I told them everything I could, even sharing Detective Monte’s contact information. Seemingly satisfied with my information, they gave me their business cards and left.
For the next twenty minutes or so, I was alone with my regrets, thinking through all the things I should have done differently. When my repressed memories of the compound kicked my ass, I should have talked to Hound about them. He’d risked his life to save me, and I should have trusted him. Levi was right. I needed professional help, because I couldn’t leave Hound. But I didn’t want to hurt him anymore, either. I needed to learn how to love and connect.
I was so busy figuratively kicking my own ass that I didn’t even notice the broad squad’s approach. Emily, Naomi, Julia, Carly, Jessica, Sasha, and Monica descended on me like a pack of concerned mother hens, offering hugs and begging me to let them help. After all the times I’d cold-shouldered them, their undeserved concern and affection—combined with my fear for Hound’s survival—was too much. I broke and told them everything.
Every-fucking-thing.
Toby, the reverend, my parents, Billy, Polly, Rishi, I held nothing back, unable to stop crying or blabbing. They encircled me like a wall, protecting me from the outside world as I let it all out. And when I finished, there was no judgment or pity in their eyes, just a strange sort of cleared-air solidarity I’d never expected.
“So, you’re fucked up?” Sasha said with a shrug. “Welcome to the party.”
Everyone laughed.
Expecting something more—and wondering if I was too numb or fucked up to be reading the situation correctly—I searched each of their faces.
Seeming to pick up on my confusion, Julia sat beside me, adjusting her very pregnant belly to get comfortable. “We all have our hang-ups,” she explained. “Nobody here will judge you for yours. What we can do, is offer our assistance, though. I am a trained therapist, and I’m… slowly getting back into the business. Regardless, I believe I can help you. I’m offering my services, free of charge, if you want to work through some of this shit.”
I snorted, and then blew my nose again. “Levi did tell me I need professional help.”
“Oh, honey, you do,” she agreed. “But the good news is, pretty much everyone does. You’re not alone.”
They stayed with me until the doctor approached to inform us Hound was out of surgery and stabilized. I’d never heard more welcome words in my life. Bidding a quick goodbye to the girls, I followed him down the hall, into a dark room where Hound was resting. Thanking the doctor, I pulled up a chair to Hound’s uninjured side, sat, and grabbed his hand. He was still worrisomely unconscious, but at least his coloring looked better. I was exhausted, and my eyes burned from crying, so I rested my head beside his hip and fell asleep, still holding his hand.
When I awoke, the morning sun was streaming in through the window, and Hound was still out cold. His hand in mine was warm, and his chest was still rising and falling. I sat up and stretched. Sleeping in that awkward position had given me a kink in my neck that I’d be dealing with for the rest of the day. But none of that mattered, because Hound had made it through the night.
Hound finally woke up around ten a.m., and his big brown eyes were the most welcome sight. I had to stop myself from pouncing on his bed to wrap him in a hug. “You’re awake!” I said, unable to contain my relief.
He gave me a lopsided smile. “Yeah. How long was I out?”
“Since… since Toby stabbed you.” A lump formed in my throat. Swallowing around it, I said, “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing about that was your fault,” Hound replied, remorse written all over his face. “I never should have said what I did. I was just shocked and hurt, and… I sent you right to him.”
