“What?” My voice cracks like a gunshot. “Why the hell didn’t you start with that? Take me to him. Right now.”
He nods and turns, and we follow him down the hall.
Only when he glances back and sees the entire club trailing behind does he stop.
“I’m sorry, I can’t allow all of you in the room.”
“You guys head home,” I start to say. “I’ll contact you when I have answers.”
Spike snorts. “Like hell. You go in there and be with Eli. We’ll wait right here.”
I shake my head, knowing there’s no arguing with him. With any of them.
Then I turn and follow the doctor, my heart hammering so loud I’m surprised it doesn’t echo down the hallway.
Eli’s awake.
He’s alive.
And I’m about to see him.
God help me.
Because I don’t know if I’m about to hug him or yell at him or drop to my knees beside his bed and fall apart completely.
The second we step inside, and I see him…groggy, blinking slow like his eyelids weigh a hundred pounds…I’m already moving. I’m at his bedside before the door even clicks shut.
“Sweetheart,” I breathe out as I drop into the chair, grabbing his hand with both of mine. “How are you feeling?”
He squints at me. “Skip?”
His voice is small, confused.
“What’s… what’s going on? Why am I in a hospital?”
“You passed out again,” I tell him gently. “Except this time, you didn’t wake up.”
Eli looks from me to the doctor and then lets out a long, miserable sigh, tossing his head back against the pillow.
“That hasn’t happened in a very long time,” he mutters.
“What?” I ask, heart already climbing up my damn throat. “Something like this has happened before?”
The doctor glances between us. “Would you like me to explain it to your husband?”
Eli’s eyes go wide. “Myhusband?” He bolts upright, then immediately goes pale, his head tilting sideways before he collapses back against the bed.
“Don’t fucking do that, baby,” I growl, grabbing him and fixing the blanket around him like he’s fragile glass. “You hurt your head when you fell.”
“I did?” he whispers, reaching up with shaky fingers to touch the bandage.
“Luckily, there’s no internal damage,” the doctor says. “You must’ve protected your head when you fell.”
Eli blinks up at the ceiling. “I don’t… I don’t remember falling.”
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, brushing strands of hair off his forehead, “you scared the absolute shit out of me anyway.”
He turns his face toward me, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Skip… I’m sorry. I haven’t gone down like that in a long time. I thought I was passed that stage in this freaking disorder.”
