When we finally touched down on the roof of the hospital, Crew threw the door open as emergency staff raced out to greet us.
I didn’t stop to consider the possibility that I wasn’t allowed to follow Lane and the trauma team into the ER. They’d have to pry my cold, dead hands off the rails of that gurney.
“Stats?” the doctor demanded as we wheeled Lane into the elevator to take us down from the helipad.
“Thirty-five. Active lifestyle. GSW to the upper chest at close range, no exit wound. Flatlined once en route. He was wearing a vest, but…”
“With a large caliber weapon, and if fired within a few feet, it’s not uncommon for it to pierce the vest,” the doctor saidconversationally. Like that was supposed to make me feel better. Like that would give his family and employees who were no doubt filling the waiting room at that moment peace of mind.
When the elevator opened, we made a sharp left turn through the swinging doors into the emergency department and right into the operating room.
Once he was transferred to the table, I was unceremoniously kicked out.
I didn’t know how long I stood outside, watching the team work on Lane through the little porthole window in the door, but eventually, a nurse approached.
“Miss? You can’t stay here.”
Turning my head, I looked at the woman without reallyseeingher, cataloging only the pale blue of her scrubs and paler blonde of her hair. Shades too fucking soft and bright for the darkness swirling within me.
When I faced her fully, she gasped.
“You’re covered in blood.”
With detachment, I glanced down and studied myself. The navy of my tee was coated in Lane’s life force and suctioned to my abdomen, and I absently plucked it away from my skin. The dark material of my pants on my thighs was practically black and wetly clinging to me.
And my hands.
In the chaos and aftermath of the shot, I’d failed to don gloves. My normally pristine skin and nails were stained red. I knew from experience it would take days to fully fade.
My eyes darted around the immediate vicinity, finding all attention on me, expressions radiating sympathy.
What a picture I must have painted, drenched in blood and rooted to the spot in the middle of a busy emergency department while doctors worked to save the life of my…what?
I had no idea how to finish that sentence.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice coming out unintentionally soft. “I’ll just…”
Trailing off, I bolted for the nearest restroom, grateful for the chance to collect myself.
Of course, the moment I was alone, I broke. Sobs racked my body, and my legs collapsed beneath me. Curled into a ball on the sterile, cracked linoleum, I fell apart.
Over the course of my career, I’d worked on plenty of people I knew.
None of those calls hit me as hard as this one had, and I wasn’t quite ready to face the reasonwhy.
All I could admit right then was that I wouldn’t survive if he didn’t make it off that table alive.
Though it took far longer than I would’ve liked, I finally managed to pull myself together enough to get up. With the limited resources at my disposal—soap, water, cheap industrial paper towels—I cleaned up as best as I could.
After fixing my hair and wiping all remnants of tear-streaked makeup off my face, I took a final look at myself in the mirror.
“Well,” I said out loud, “time to face the firing squad.” Then I winced, muttering, “Too soon,” as I exited the restroom.
I kept my eyes downcast as I made my way through the ED and back into the main area of the hospital, beelining straight for the elevator.
On the ground floor, the crowd noise, though subdued, greeted me before I rounded the corner and the waiting room came into view.
A murmur went through the group when I appeared. At first, I couldn’t even see the Lawless family through the sheer number of gathered deputies and support staff from the Dusk Valley Sheriff’s Department. With a deep breath that did nothing to quell my anxiety, I waded into the fray, internally flinching everytime a hand landed on my shoulder in an “atta girl” type pat or when someone thanked me.
