“No,” I refuse, “I’ll wait. I’m fine.”
“Niamh,” Remy crouches in front of me, “Let them look at you. We’re not going anywhere. We’ll find out the moment he’s out of surgery and awake.”
“He’s right,” The nurse says. “I’ll notify you myself if that’s what it takes.”
I swallow thickly. “But what if —”
“We’re here,” Remy interrupts me.
“You’ll get me?” I ask.
“We will.” He promises. “Go get checked out. Roman will kick our asses if he sees you like that when he wakes up.”
I’ve seen the inside of a hospital room too many times in the past few weeks, but I don’t dare leave Roman’s bedside. He came out of surgery an hour ago and has yet to wake up, but he’s alive.
I have a few new stitches in my head and arms, but the cuts on my neck are simply flesh wounds. If anything, I’m just exhausted. Drained. There’s going to be a shitstorm to handle when we leave this hospital. Policeand statements and whispers, but that’s a tomorrow problem.
Reaching for Roman’s hand, I tuck my fingers around his, ignoring the dirt and blood caked beneath my fingernails that I couldn’t get out no matter how hard I scrubbed my hands. Silas and Remy are silent on the other side of the room, as tired as I am. The sun has long since set, and the city below the window is sleeping.
None of us has said a word.
Loosening my breath, I lean forward, resting my head on the side of Roman’s bed, my eyes too heavy to keep open. I listen to the steady beat of his heart monitor, letting that lull me to sleep.
We made it out alive.
We did it.
I’m not sure when sleep dragged me under or how long it kept me down, but I wake to the feel of fingers in my hair, gently massaging against my scalp. I moan with how good it feels, skin prickling as the feel of it keeps me in that weird foggy space between sleep and wakefulness.
It takes me a moment to figure out it’s someone touching me.
My head snaps up, and my eyes land on Roman, sitting up a little in his bed, eyes hooded and sleepy, but he’s awake.
“Hey baby,” He rasps.
“Roman,” His name cracks out of me.
At the sound of my voice, his eyes close for a few seconds before he looks at me again. “You’re okay.”
I scramble to my feet, eyes burning with more tears as I lean down and press my mouth to his. Needing that feel of him, the taste of him. I need to know this is real. He kisses me back just as desperately, as much as the bed and the wires attached to him allow. The beep of his heart monitor speeds up a notch at our connection.
“I thought I lost you,” I whisper, unable to get my voice any higher through the thickness clogging my throat.
“I’m here.” He cradles my face.
“It’s over,” I sigh, dropping his eyes. I killed a man, and while I knew I had to shoot him, the weight of those actions weighs me down. “He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
“Look at me,” Roman commands, “Niamh, look at me.”
I lift my eyes to meet his burning amber ones.
“You did what you had to do. You survived. You saved me. There is no shame in that.”
“I was so scared,” My voice shakes, “There was so much blood.”
“I’m here.” He vows. “I’m not leaving you.”
A tear slips off my cheek and drops onto the blue blanket covering him, and I watch as it blooms into a small wet patch.
