“Yeah, you were out for a while.”
She knew she had died. She had felt the life leave her body, something that she wouldn’t have thought possible. “I don’t know.”
He flicked on a small light near her head and peered into her eyes. “What’s my name?”
“Huck.”
His brown eyes warmed. “How was I named?”
“You were named after your dad’s dog, Huckleberry.”
“Good,” he said. “What’s the square root of 1,020?”
All right. Her mind was coming back. “Approximately 31.937.”
The tension slowly left his face. “You’re okay.”
She swallowed and looked at his bloody shirt. “Were you shot?”
“Yeah,” he said shortly. “I’m fine.”
Her entire body hurt. She looked down at her hands, which were both bandaged. “I scraped the ice.”
“Yes. You took off a couple of your nails. You did good. You fought well.”
“Not well enough. Where’s Zeke? Is he in custody?”
Huck shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. I let him get away. I’m sorry.”
She stared at him. He looked exhausted, and his hair had dried curly, standing up on end. Bruises mottled his face, and blood was quite evident on his light T-shirt. “I think you were probably saving my life.” Her chest ached.
“You swallowed a lot of the water.”
She looked around the darkened room. “Do I have any permanent lung damage?”
“It’s too early to tell,” he said, “but since your brain is fine, I assume your lungs are, too.”
She liked that logic. “I see.” She took a deep breath and looked down. Somehow, she already knew. “The baby?” Then she looked in his eyes.
“No,” he said. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracked at the end.
Surprising tears filled her eyes. Could she have fought harder?
“It’s okay.” He leaned in and pulled her against the left side of his shirt as if trying to keep the blood off her.
She shocked herself by crying hard sobs that didn’t make a lot of sense. She hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped for that baby. She settled her nose into his shirt and let the tears fall. “This is silly,” she said. “Twenty percent of women miscarry in the first trimester. I was still in the first trimester. We hadn’t even heard a heartbeat yet.”
“I know.” He kissed her neck, one scalding hot tear sliding from his skin to hers. “I’m still sorry.”
She gulped. “So am I. I had big plans for that kid.” She tried to chuckle, but the sound sounded like a sob.
“So did I,” he said. “I will find Zeke Caine, and he will pay for this.”
She forced herself to grow calm. “I know.”
“I will find that bastard,” Huck said, his voice still quiet. He leaned back and gently wiped her tears away with his thumb. “It’s okay to feel sad.”
“I do,” she said. “Very. I wonder who that baby might’ve been.”
