He exhaled a huge breath and linked his hands behind his head as if he needed to take a breather, as if he’d run from Utah instead of taking the quick two-hour flight.
Sierra hated that she was relieved to see him, hated that she needed him to take over because she could feel her panic chipping slowly away at her own walls and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold them up for.
Benji didn’t ask questions or force Nina to relive what had happened.
He simply took charge.
He dropped his small duffel bag on the floor and knelt to unzip it. He pulled out an ancient Wrangler tee, one that Sierra herself had worn many times, and he came to crouch in front of Nina. ‘Hey.’
Nina’s eyes instantly welled. ‘It’s my fault—’
‘No.’
‘He came forme,’ she insisted. ‘Alexander came for me.’ Her words came in a rush of anxiety then. ‘And I’ve survived the last months by telling myself that the assault was the worst thing that would ever happen to me – but it wasn’t. Not even close. Benji … There was so much blood.’ She looked down at her hands where blood had dried in the fine cracks of her pale skin. ‘I don’t know how a person can survive losing so much blood.’
‘Have you seen the size of that guy?’ Benji teased. ‘He has a lot swimming around in there. He’ll be fine.’ When Nina didn’t reply, only nodded, he continued gently, ‘No news is good news right now.’ He unknowingly repeated what Sierra had said only moments before he’d arrived. ‘It means they’re still working, and that’s what we’re going to hold on to. Okay?’
Nina nodded.
‘’Kay, arms up,’ he ordered. When Nina only stared at him, Benji grinned. ‘I won’t peek. Sacred rule of brotherhood.’ As if to prove his point, he held the shirt up in front of his face, waited for Nina to tug hers off and then open the bottom of the one Benji held. He waited until her head was through before tugging it down her torso. ‘Mind if I toss this?’ he asked, holding up Nina’s blood-stained shirt.
‘No.’
He pushed to his feet, walked to a nearby trash can, and threw the bloody shirt straight into it. When he came back, Sierra said, ‘I’m pretty sure they have separate trash for bloody items.’
‘What they don’t know won’t hurt them,’ came his succinct reply. He cocked one hip. ‘What does everyone need? Coffee? Food?’
Just the thought of coffee made Sierra want to throw up. It didn’t matter that it was close to two a.m., her empty stomach was too sick to handle the caffeine.
‘I don’t think I could stomach anything right now,’ Nina said, speaking Sierra’s thoughts.
‘Markus? Juan, I’m guessing?’ Benji leaned forward to shake Juan’s hand.
‘We’re good, thanks,’ Markus replied.
But because she knew Benji, and she knew he needed something to keep his thoughts from focusing on Mav, she said, ‘Could you take Poppy for me while I go to the restroom?’
He came to her immediately, gently took Poppy’s weight with a practised ease, and when Poppy stirred, and said, ‘Daddy?’
Benji kissed the side of her face and replied, ‘Not yet, honey. I’ll wake you up when you can see him.’
Poppy yawned. ‘’Kay,’ she murmured, and then buried her face against Benji and promptly fell asleep in his arms, her legs dangling.
When that near-constant grief rose up within her, choking her, Sierra pushed to her feet. She refused to let the memories of her lost dreams pull her under, especially now when Mav needed them both.
So, she let the past lie. And she walked away.
Nina was so consumed with thoughts of Mav that she didn’t hear the exchange or see Sierra walk away. Nor did she see when Sierra returned and took her place at her side again, like some tireless watchdog.
Time was irrelevant. Every second may as well have been a year, and it didn’t matter how long it took so long as whoever came to speak to her told her that Mav was alive and fighting. Because if he had even a small chance, he would take it. Mav always fought for what he wanted.
Thirty minutes later, an exhausted-looking doctor came out.
Nina shot to her feet because they were the only ones left in the waiting room.
He took those steps towards them, and for a long moment Nina could only look down at his soft-soled shoes as they padded across the linoleum floors, because she was too afraid to look at his face and read the news there.
‘Sierra Hunt?’
