* * *
I sat hunched over in the hard plastic chair, elbows on my knees, exhaustion in my bones. People hustled on the other side of the door that’d been wedged open a crack. But inside this room? Time had stopped. Nothing less than a mind-altering waiting game.
Dimness floated on the feigned peace, and that steady beeping of the monitor lulled me into a sense of security I was praying wasn’t faulty.
“You should go get some rest, man.”
I jumped when the muted voice hit me from behind. I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to clear the daze, and shifted to look over my shoulder.
Kale stood there in his scrubs. Dude looked just about as weary as I felt. Since the second we’d rushed through the emergency room doors, he’d been running nonstop, making sure every test possible had been run on my daughter. Ensuring nothing was missed.
He’d been up all night and all of today.
“Think it’s probably you who should be taking a break,” I told him.
He let a smirk ridge his mouth. “Nah, I’m basically a super hero. Can’t keep me down. ”
Cocky asshole.
A light chuckle rumbled from my tongue. “That so?”
“Come on, look at me, you know it is.” He was all affable grins.
I turned my attention back to my daughter. Frankie was lost to sleep, tiny body tucked beneath stark white sheets.
Resting.
Whole and right.
According to Kale, things could go south up to two days after prolonged smoke exposure.
Which left me an unwilling player in this waiting game.
But Kale kept insisting I shouldn’t worry. That she was going to be fine. That he’d make sure of it.
She’d been dosed with precautionary antibiotics and breathing treatments, and Kale promised not a single base had been missed.
I’d always known it, but it wasn’t so clear what a damned good doctor Kale was until then.
“Thank you, man,” I muttered quietly. “No way I could ever repay you for what you’ve done.”
He made a sound of rebuttal. “I was just doing my job, Rex. You know she wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you and Rynna.”
Rynna.
Beautiful Rynna. This girl who’d become my orbit. My sun. My gravity.
Rynna had saved my daughter’s life. She’d put herself on the line. She fought for her. For us. She loved her in a way that was absolute.
“Almost at the cost of her own.”
Everything pressed and pulled.
This gratefulness that had taken up residence in every part of me, up against this blistering agony at the thought of almost losing her, too.
“I won’t pretend to know Rynna all that well,” he said. “But from what I do? I’d bet she doesn’t regret rushing into that fire any more than you do. Which is why I’m here. You can see her now.”
My body swayed with the harsh heave of my breath. “Can you sit with Frankie for a while?”
