Rowan palmed some scissors, then kneeled in front of him. “Are you gonna play nice or do I have to get Buck and Dalton to hold you down?”
Bodie crossed his arms, nearly colliding with the other door when everything shifted. “I said, I’m fine. Everyone needs to focus on Wade. And I can walk my ass into the hospital.”
“Always the hard way, with you military guys.”
“I’m not…” He blinked, came back around with his head tucked against Dalton’s shoulder, his cargo pants sliced up one side.
Rowan pressed another dressing over the wounds, glancing at him as she started wrapping his thigh. “You back with us?”
Bodie frowned. “I didn’t go anywhere.”
“You didn’t leave the helicopter, but you were out. Five minutes.”
He’d been unconscious for five minutes?
She taped the last bandage in place. “That should hold until one of the doctors can remove the shrapnel. I’ll need whatever they take out, by the way, so have the doc bag it.”
“You hoping to identify the builder?”
“If I’m lucky.” She shifted over to him. “Can’t say that I’ve been lucky, yet.”
“Always a first time.”
“An optimist. Interesting.” Her face wavered for a moment. Blue eyes washing in and out of focus.
How had he missed what shade they were? So vivid and bright he swore they were neon. And when had her hair pulled free from the ponytail? Cascading over her shoulders in a mass of chestnut-colored waves. The kind that begged to be fisted as he claimed her mouth.
He blinked. He must have lost more blood than he’d anticipated if his damn thoughts were drifting in that direction while still racing for the hospital. Still under the threat of losing Wade.
Rowan frowned, then checked his leg. “Shit, Chase. I think one of the pieces shifted. I need a pressure bandage, some fluids. Get the crash cart ready.”
Bodie blinked, again, his vision tunneling to gray at the edges before he pulled it back. Focused. Chase had exchanged places, wrapping his leg tight as Rowan jabbed his arm — started an IV. He tried to wave them off, failed, only to fade a bit more, black streaks moving in from the side.
“Bodie.”
Rowan’s voice sounded next to him, her small fingers pressed against his neck. She mumbled something to Chase, her face reappearing amidst a scatter of dots. “Bodie. You need to keep those blue eyes on me.”
Had her voice always been that smooth? The words flowing out like music?
She tsked. “Don’t you fade on me.”
More pressure on his leg, punching a few of the pieces deeper. The pain rolled his eyes for a moment, the cabin vanishing amidst a sea of nausea until the helicopter settled hard against the ground, the hum of the engines diminishing.
The doors opened, a flurry of chaos descending on the chopper. White coats and bright lights swam in and out of focus as he bumped along a hallway, the world appearing in flashes like some kind of strobe light.
Voices sounded around him, hands tugging at his clothes as he fought against the darkness one last time.
Rowan grabbed his hand, squeezed, those gorgeous eyes staring down at him. Strong. Commanding. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
He wanted to call her out. That nothing would ever be okay as long as those men were out there — breathing — but nothing got through. His thoughts derailing a second after they took shape.
Instead, he gripped her hand, held tight.
She smiled, and his damn heart skipped. What he hoped was from the easy tilt of her lips, how it lit up her entire face and not because he was on his way out. Had neglected the bleed a fraction too long.
Another squeeze, then Rowan looming over him. “Not letting you get away that easily, Page. Rest. I’ll see you once you wake up. And don’t think I’m not collecting on that beer.”
He smiled, everything bleeding into black around him. He gripped her hand, wishing she could stay as he faded, her fierce eyes following him into the darkness.
