Chief Turner steps back as the EMTs jump from the ambulance, taking my wife from my arms and placing her on a gurney. Their movements are fast and chaotic but professional, as they quickly assess her, talking animatedly as they start to push the gurney away from me.
“One of you can come with us, but we need to get a tox screen and see what drugs are in her system ASAP,” one of the EMTs says, his focus on Starling, the rest of us simply not important enough to warrant a second look.
“I’m coming,” I say, already moving in the direction of the ambulance.
“Are you taking her to Green Acres Memorial?” someone asks.
“Yes,” the EMT says, only waiting long enough for me to climb aboard before he closes the door and we’re careening away from the warehouse, the police, my friends, and the woman whose life we just ruined.
TWENTY-ONE
STARLING
Beep,beep, beep. The sound is so annoying that even though my head is booming, my mouth is dry, and my limbs feel so heavy that I know that it’ll hurt to lift them, I still force my eyes open, blinking until the room comes into view.
“Sebastian,” I croak.
“I’m here, Little Bird,” he assures me, his fingers, which I didn’t realize were holding mine, tightening.
“What?” I try to question.
“You had a reaction to the drug Courtney injected you with. You’re okay, it’s just taking you some time to wake up properly,” he says, his voice tight and controlled.
Courtney. At the sound of her name, everything rushes back to me. Evan tying me up, gagging me, then injecting me with a drug so that after we led the cops to her, they’d find me in the trunk.
“Courtney?” I croak.
“The cops arrested her.”
I try to nod, but the movement makes the thudding pulse in my head boom even louder. Squeezing my eyes shut, I wince as dizziness makes it feel like the bed beneath me is moving.
“You wouldn’t wake up, Little Bird. I thought I’d lost you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“Not yet, you’re not, but you will be. I won’t lose you, Starling. I’d follow you to hell and back, but I won’t live even a moment without you.”
I shouldn’t smile, but I do, his threat reminding me how crazily I love my husband. My whole face hurts as I curve my lips, forcing my eyes open so I can see him. “Why are you sitting there?” I question, blinking at how far away he is.
“Where else would I be?” he asks.
“In here, with me,” I say, feeling sleep threatening to drag me under again.
“I can’t.”
“Please,” I beg, needing him close enough to surround me as I drift back off to sleep.
The next time I wake up, I’m surrounded by heat and Sebastian’s arms encircling me, my face pressed into his shirt.
“The nurses keep telling me to get out of the bed,” he says, knowing I’m awake before my eyes have opened.
“What did you tell them?” I ask, sounding more coherent now that it doesn’t feel like my head is on the verge of exploding.
“That you needed me.”
“I do need you,” I tell him, tentatively opening my eyes and blinking until my vision is clear enough that I can see the deep-seated pain on his face.
“Fuck,” he exhales, cupping my cheeks in his palms as he leans down and kisses me.
