Prince Walker
Always and Forever
The steady beeping sound that seemed wired into my dreams came into focus as my eyes flickered open, then objected to the brightness of the light.
“Fuck,” I groaned roughly. I felt as if I’d been hit by a freight train. My chest was so tight it was hard to draw breath. Then it occurred to me that something was over my face, pressing against my nose. I raised a hand to push it away, but the movement seemed to be in slow motion. Trailing tubes made the gesture harder.
“What the fuck,” I muttered.
Hospital. Obviously. I was attached to a machine, and there was a drip in my hand. Oxygen mask over my face. That explained it.
At least I was alive.
Sasha!
I tried to get up. Too weak. Too damn weak.
“He’s awake,” someone said. And then a hand on my shoulder pushed me back against the pillows.
“Sash…” I ground out through gritted teeth. Things around me took shape. Colors beginning to make sense. I was looking up into a face.
An angel.
“You’re okay,” she said softly. My heart clenched. I tried to smile.
Thank fuck!
“You’re going to be fine,” Sasha went on. Another face came into focus beside her. My mother’s features were puffy. She’d been crying. I felt fingers curling through my own and realized Sasha had taken my hand. I tried to squeeze it and was rewarded with a smile.
She was crying too now.
“I love you,” I managed to croak out the words. There was so much more I wanted to say, but somehow my mouth didn’t want to cooperate.
“Always and forever,” she said brokenly, and it tore at my heat. I wanted to stare at her for an eternity, but my eyes had plans of their own. I fought to keep my eyelids open, but it was a losing battle. Darkness descended again, and sleep took me.
∞∞∞
“He’s doing extremely well,” Dr. Lindeque said warmly. The man had been in and out several times during the course of the day, just as he had during the days Prince had been in the hospital. I’d come to anticipate his visits. At first with trepidation, then with growing confidence.
After the surgery to remove the bullet from his chest, the doctors had been cautious about what they told us. Although it had missed his heart, the slug had left a trail of destruction in its wake, tearing dangerously close to arteries. “Wait and see” had been a phrase that came up daily. But then he’d woken up, and things had suddenly taken a turn for the better.
Now the attending surgeons were saying things like “miracle” and “very lucky man.” I’d known it had been bad, but I’d refused to let myself believe anything other than that he’d get better. He would come back to me. To us.
A week had passed, and I’d barely left the hospital. The first days in ICU had been the worst, but now he’d been moved to a private room. They’d set up a cot for me in the corner. Nothing could keep me away from him. The doctors had given up trying to persuade me to go home.
“We’ll call you if there’s any change,” Dr. Lindeque had said. I’d ignored him – thank God I had, because I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t been here that first moment his eyes had opened.
They were opening again now. My heart leaped as I found myself transfixed by a steady green gaze.
“Hey you,” he said softly. I swallowed hard and gave a watery smile. He raised an unsteady hand, and I took it between both of mine.
“Hey,” I replied gently. “It’s good to have you back.” I spoke as if he was merely returning from a brief trip instead of nearly leaving us for good.
“No place else I’d rather be.” His voice was husky with disuse, but I’d never heard a sweeter sound. I pressed closer against the edge of the bed. I wanted nothing more than to fling myself into his arms, but right now, with his chest still swathed in bandages, I was afraid to hurt him.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. The words seemed trite. There were other things I wanted to say. Like “I love you” and “I wouldn’t survive a day without you” and “please never leave me again.”
“Couldn’t be better,” he said lightly. The tiny laugh that bubbled up my throat had a hysterical edge to it. He’d thrown himself in front of a bullet for me. He could have died. Not to mention the risks he’d taken in getting to me in the first place. The day we’d brought him in here, Andy had told me what had gone down. How he’d flung himself into the jaws of death to save me.
