She stops at the side of the bed, and I get a good look at her, scanning her face and taking in the redness in her eyes, the dark shadows forming beneath them.
“She’s fine,” Sloane gently moves the blankets away from Lily’s face, showing me my sleeping daughter, but I already knew my daughter was okay.
“Are you?” I ask.
With the way I’m ignoring the rest of them, we may as well be alone right now. Her eyes bounce between mine, “I’m fine.”
More fucking lies.
“You’re not.”
“Stop it,” She whispers.
“Sloane,” Savannah steps closer, touching her arm.
“Can you take her?” Sloane says quickly, handing Lily over, “I need to use the restroom.”
“Oh,” Sav agrees, taking my daughter, “Sure.”
Sloane doesn’t say anything further as she scurries from the room, the door closing with a soft click behind her.
A few seconds tick by. “You all fucked up.” I snap at my friends.
“What?” It’s Killian who responds.
“Didanyof you check on her?!” My anger bubbles under the surface. Really, I should focus on the fucking shooting and find out who the hell wanted me dead, but seeing her like that… fuck.
“She’s fine, Dean,” Savannah says.
“You’re telling methatwas fine!?” I growl. Killian steps beside her protectively.
“Don’t make me fucking hit you while you’re in a hospital bed.” He warns.
“Fucking do it,” I challenge, “You all fucked up. She was there, she isn’t like us!”
“Is there something going on between you two?” Savannah asks.
“What?” I snap, “No.”
“You sure, man?” Sebastian laughs, “’Cause it looks like you’re ready to rip us all apart for her.”
“I fucking am.”
He quirks a brow and smirks. Prick.
“She’s okay, Dean,” Savannah assures me. “Sloane has her own past, and this is how it is with her; just let her be.”
I feel my nostrils flare. No. I’ll not just let her be.
Inwardly, I hear a small voice laughing. Pot meet kettle.
Everyone left about twenty minutes ago, leaving me to the fog of meds that makes it hard to keep my eyes open. I fucking hate being here, where the only sound is the beeping of the machine to my side, and the smell in the air makes my nose burn. I’ll be able to go home tomorrow, provided the surgical site is clean and there are no complications that arise overnight, but that doesn’t mean I’m free. Words like physiotherapy and rehab were thrown around earlier, but I was too fucked up on the drugs to really take it all in. One thing that rang through all the noise was the possible long-term problems I may have.
If whoever fucking shot me has fucked me up, I’m going to rip them apart slowly. If I had access to my damn computer, I would have found them by now, but I’m here while they’re out there, thinking they’ve gotten away with it. I’m not stupid to believe it wasn’t an attempt on my life, and perhaps I would have brushed it off like the many times before, but I wasn’t the only one there.
Sloane could have been hit, and if the door to the car wasn’t shut and I hadn’t armored the vehicle, then Lily could have been hit too.
Snatching my cell off the bedside unit, I open the thread with my brother and start typing out a message to ask him to bring my computer here, but I’m interrupted by the door creaking open.
