The top of her head was covered in dried blood. Except for the spot on one side of her face where the doctor had cleaned her up to assess the lump on her temple, she looked like something straight out of a horror film. Carrie on stage after the group of rival teens dumped the bucket of pig’s blood on her.
And yet, to Fisher, she’d never looked more beautiful.
Beautiful because she’s alive.
The thought of just how close she’d come tonotbeing alive was enough to have his stomach souring. The two beers he’d had with Britt before she’d called to give them the dreadful news of what had happened to her sloshed around in the bottom of his belly like stagnant swamp water.
He nearly reached for the kidney bean container again. This time forhimself.
“Why can’t I catch my breath?” she asked desperately. The whites of her eyes stood out in harsh relief against the darkness of the blood on her forehead and cheeks. “I thought it was my head that was hurt. But maybe I breathed something into my lungs because?—”
“It’s the shock paired with the letdown of adrenaline,” he reassured her, imagining the soles of his boots were glued to the floor so he wouldn’t run to her side and pull her into his arms. Every instinct he had told him to cuddle her close, to wrap her up tight and make sure the world couldn’t reach her.
But he wasn’t sure she’d thank him for the effort. So he gave her the only thing he could. The advice of a man who’d lived through things like what she’d just lived through. Who’d seen death and destruction with his own eyes. Who knew what it was to watch someone he loved as they were taken from the world in the most brutal and barbaric of ways.
“If ya can force yourself to take slow, measured breaths,” he instructed lowly, “the need to hyperventilate will pass.”
“Right.” She nodded, her lower lip trembling even as she squared her shoulders and made herself breathe slowly.
Within a minute, her chest rose and fell in even measures. And as soon as the crisis passed, all the starch went out of her.
He watched helplessly as her face crumbled.And here comes the grief, he thought. But, somehow, she valiantly held back a sob until the noise that popped out of her sounded more like a hiccup.
“I can’t stop thinking about it.” Her voice was a bare whisper, but he would swear her words ripped through the air inside the curtained-off section of the ER’s triage room like a scream. “Abouthim.Charlie, he?—”
This time she had about as much luck holding back a sob as he’d have had holding back the muddy waters of the Mississippi.
Eliza Meadows was a tough nut. He’d never known what it would take to make her crack. And he couldn’t say he was happy to discover that what’d finally shattered all her finishing school poise was being witness to her boyfriend’s final moments and?—
His eyes tracked down the huge diamond on her left hand. The facets of the stone caught the glaring florescent light and sparkled with so much fire he was tempted to shade his eyes.
Not boyfriend, he silently corrected himself.Fiancé.
Apparently, Eliza Meadows had agreed to become Mrs. Eliza McClean. And as much as he hated himself for it, he couldn’t deny a sense of relief at knowing that would never come to pass.
The truth was, even though she was so far out of his league as to be playing on a whole other planet, and even though a woman like her wasdangerousto a man like him, he wanted Eliza for himself.
Hadalwayswanted her for himself.
The day she’d walked through BKI’s front gates, he’d forgotten what life was like before her. And now he couldn’t imagine what life would be like after her.
Some folks might try to say that was love. That he wasinlove with her.
But he knew the truth. He knewhimself.
“God, Charlie.” She pulled her knees to her chest and rocked atop the bed as too many tears to count trekked down her soft cheeks and dripped from her chin. They picked up blood along the way and left pink stains when they fell onto the thin hospital sheet draped over her legs.
His feet itched to inch closer. Every cell in his body strained toward her like he was made of metal and she was one big magnet. But somehow he managed to stay rooted to the spot beside her bed.
When he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, curling his fingers around the coolness of his harmonica, he waited for the comfort he usually felt in the gesture. Thegroundinghe usually felt when the memories of the countless hours and countless lessons he’d been given drifted through his head like a puffy, pink cloud.
The familiar feeling of relief never came.
Instead, the hard metal reminded him of the cornerstone of Black Knights Inc., their rock, their pillar, their veryfoundationwas hurting something fierce. And no matter how much he wished it weren’t so, there was absolutely nothing he could do to help her.
Britt, who’d been standing in the curtained-off corner, walked over to prop a hip on the edge of the hospital bed. He pulled Eliza into a tight hug and then proceeded to do all the things Fisher wishedhecould do.
Like gently pushed her hair back from her face. Like rock her and shush her. Like smooth a gentle hand up and down her back.
