Thankfully, my friend Brynn Somerton turned up a minute later. She swanned into the room, looking put-together as always. Today it was dark jeans, ankle boots, a crisp white button-down. Her long straight hair was up in a sleek ponytail.
“Good morning,” Brynn announced. “How’s today treating you, Keira? Sucking as much as yesterday?”
“You know it,” I said, managing a smile.
“She’s acting like she’s great, even though she’s not,” Stephie grumbled from the chair where she was slumped.
Mom returned with a nurse, who offered a dose of NSAIDs for my pain. I was saving the stronger stuff for nighttime.
“Two visitors,” the nurse reminded us.
Brynn smiled. “Yes, ma’am. We’ll sort that out.”
When she’d gotten the news about the shooting, Brynn had been in Mexico at the house she shared with Cole. She’d arrived in Hartley just yesterday, stopping by the hospital to see me for a few minutes, but a ton of other people had wanted to stop and see me too.
I was so glad she was here. I hadn’t had the chance to talk to her alone yet, and I needed to.
I needed my friend.
As if she’d read my mind, Brynn worked her magic,convincing Mom and Stephie to go home and rest for a while. “Thank you,” I breathed, relaxing into the pillows when they were gone. “I love them, but it’s a lot having them here constantly.”
“Of course it is.” Brynn carefully sat on the edge of the mattress beside me. “I heard from the nurses you’re the most cheerful GSW victim they’ve ever encountered.”
“Trying.”
“I admire that. But you were shot, Keira. You’re allowed to be awful. Nobody expects you to be sweet right now.”
Brynn was a former FBI agent. I’d met her when she and Cole came to Hart County to partner on an undercover Protectors mission. They wound up falling in love.
These days, she and Cole were bounty hunters, spending summers in the States and winters at their beach house on the Pacific coast of Mexico. Brynn and Cole were also members of the Protectors, carrying out missions whenever their particular skills were needed.
Brynn didn’t hold much back, especially not after finding love and happiness with Cole.
“You can tell me how you’re really feeling,” she said.
I groaned, and my eyes burned. “I hate this. I’m so…”
She held my hand, the one not trapped in a sling. “Tell me.”
“Sopissed off. People have been really kind, coming to visit and check on me and bring flowers and food. My neighbors, everyone from Last Refuge, and our church, and from the station. But I just want to…scream. Or cry. Or something. But I can’t cry in front of any of them, B. Especially not my family, and never Owen or Trace or River. If I do, I’ll prove that I’m…”
A mass had gathered in my throat, choking me. I grabbed for Brynn’s hand and squeezed as hard as I could. Which wasn’t all that hard considering I was lying helplessin a bed, barely able to move and with my left arm in a sling.
“Weak,” I finished, my voice just a whisper.
When those men had tried to kill me, I’d put up little resistance. Yeah, I’d shot one of them. He’d left blood at the scene, and forensic techs were searching for DNA matches. But my attackers had gotten away easily. I hadn’t stood a chance.
How could I ever be a Protector if I couldn’t even defend myself?
Brynn leaned closer. “We all fall apart, every single one of us. But tough folks like us, like you and me, we choose who to do it in front of. You can fall apart in front of me.”
“Thanks.”
Gah, I sounded so sad and dejected. I was sick of myself. Sick of everyone and everything.
“Have you cried yet? Even alone?”
I shook my head. That lump was stuck halfway, refusing to budge.
