As if the prospect of help had my strength slipping through my control, I broke. I held Beckham’s hand tighter, pressing my forehead to his shoulder blade as a sob wracked through me.
He spun at the sound, his arms wrapping me in a safe cocoon.
“Does something hurt? Is it the baby?” Beckham attempted to calm his frantic tone, but even with all his willpower, the panic at the thought of me or this baby not being okay was too much to contain.
I shook my head because that was all I could do.
Of all the times I thought I could do everything on my own, this wasn’t one of them.
Help was here, and I was so damn relieved.
38
BECKHAM
If the ride back to the ambulance had been grueling, this was pure torture.
Search and rescue had scaled the mountain on snowmobiles to find us, and after ensuring Parker was well enough to get her down for medical help, I’d slowly started losing my grip on my ability to stay calm.
Adrenaline seeped out of me like water through a crack in a dam—though all my defenses tried to hold it together, there was no stopping the flood of regret. Guilt. Pain. Heartache.
In the hospital, when Parker was taken back without me, I broke. I sat in the chair in the waiting room, ripping my hair out and watching through watery eyes as each tear puddled on the linoleum floor. My clothes were soaked, I still felt cold, and the racing thoughts were painstakingly grueling.
I’d talked to countless officers, explaining what hadhappened multiple times. They checked the story, checked it again. There was no hiding the fact that I’d murdered someone, and the only reason I believed I wasn’t behind bars was because I fessed up to it on the initial phone call.
Parker was scared when they forced us apart. She had to take tests to be sure she and the baby were okay, and I had to answer what felt like hundreds of questions. Recounting the events was like being on autopilot at this point.
The fear in Parker’s eyes. The gunshot. The blood.
There was so much blood.
I’d dealt with all types of injuries on the ranch and delivered so many foals and calves I lost count—but the blood of a person? Someone I’d killed? It stained my mind more than it did the rug in that cabin.
But I’d do it again.
There were no limits I wouldn’t cross to keep Parker and our baby safe.
Safe.
I had to focus on that. We were okay now. We weren’t standing in that cabin, the two of us freezing and scared and facing potential death.
We were safe.
But I wouldn’t breathe until I knew our son was okay, too.
Parker was so strong, doing her best to keep it together for everyone’s sake, but I knew her mind was spinning just as much as mine was.
“Beckham Bronson?”
I was on my feet in a blink, focusing on the nurse in blue scrubs ahead of me.
“That’s me.”
“You can come back now,” she said. I tried to read her features to see if anything was wrong. Did we lose the baby, and that was why she hadn’t smiled? Were they both hurt, and she didn’t want to get my hopes up?
The walk to Parker’s hospital room was longer than that trek up the mountain, and each echo of my boots on the floor had my heart skipping beats and speeding up all at the same time.
The nurse slowed and gestured to a room. I wasted no time slipping past her, not stopping until I was at Parker’s side.
