Chapter Thirty-Eight
––––––––
Cassie’s eyes snappedopen when the O.R.doors parted, and a staff member wheeled out a patient.Not Tristan.
Gavin’s arm tightened around her shoulders.She’d been using him as a pillow.“Not him.”
She sat up, put a hand to the back of her neck and tipped her head back to relieve the ache there.“How long was I out?”
“Maybe thirty minutes.”He removed his arm.“I’m gonna go grab another coffee and check in with the others down in the cafeteria.Can I get you anything?”
“I’d just about kill for an herbal tea.”
“Whoa, can’t have that.Anything in it?”
“Bit of honey if they have it.Thanks.”
“Sure.See you in a bit.”
She sat alone in the hallway, staring at the O.R.doors.The past few hours had been a continuous, horrific blur that kept playing over and over in a loop in her head.
The initial terror when she’d heard Tristan being ambushed.Racing over there, fearing she would get there too late and find him dead.Facing down and killing Rob.Finding Tristan badly wounded.The shock that had taken hold after.Then having to deal with the police when all she’d wanted was to be beside Tristan at the hospital.
But seeing that name and number on Rob’s call log in the ambulance haunted her every bit as much as the rest of it.
She’d handed the phone over to the cops and used Gavin’s phone here at the hospital to contact Ivy.She hadn’t told him why, but Ivy was quietly doing her thing, doing her own investigation without alerting anyone else.Cassie didn’t want anyone else to know her suspicions until they were confirmed.
She blew out a breath, rubbed at the top of her right shoulder where the knots were worst.She wished someone would give them an update.Was Tristan still in the operating room?They’d taken him into surgery more than an hour ago.
“Hey, there you are.”
She glanced up to find Bristol walking toward her with a familiar pale blue pastry box in her hands.“Hi.”
“Brought you something.”
“What?When did you have time to go all the way to our pie place?”
“I didn’t, TJ did.And he got me a piece too, so move over.”Bristol shimmied in beside her on the short, padded bench set against the wall and opened the box.“Here you go.Lemon sour cream for you, French silk for me.Because I’m an addict and not ashamed to say so.”She handed her a fork.Leaned over to kiss her cheek.“Love you.Now eat.You’re pale as a sheet.”
She wasn’t hungry.Her appetite had disappeared, and food was the last thing on her mind.But itwasher favorite pie, and Lord knew she could use the sugar rush.“Remind me to thank TJ.”
“You like him now, right?”
