The nurse takes my vitals, wraps the blood pressure cuff around my good arm, and checks my temperature. She asks my pain level on a scale of one to ten.
I hold up eight fingers.
She prescribes more medicine, adjusts something on the IV, then she leaves.
The anticipation makes the next two minutes feel like an hour. Every second stretches. Intensifying the pain.
Then the door opens.
Jax walks in first.
His face is swollen like a pillow. One eye is nearly shut. His lip is split. But the sight of him makes my heart stutter.
He’s alive.
Zephyr walks in behind him. Less beaten but still bruised with a scratch down his cheek.
I’m so relieved I can barely breathe.
“Zinni?” I ask. My voice cracks on her name.
The tears are back, sad this time when she doesn’t round the corner.
“Zinnia’s with CPS,” Zephyr says gently.
I look up at the ceiling and cry.
Then I hear commotion in the hall.
“Fuck that. She almost died!”
Zephyr smiles despite everything. “Here comes Cal.”
Callum storms in. His face is bruised too—cheek swollen, eye blackened. I don’t recall a moment when he was beaten. When did that happen?
“Tiger,” he says.
The sound of his voice makes my chest constrict, makes everything hurt worse and better at the same time.
He walks over and kisses me gently on the lips. So soft I barely feel it.
I see his bruised cheek up close and wonder what happened to him. When. Where.
“Cal,” I try to say, but nothing comes out.
“Shh,” he whispers. “Don’t talk.”
The nurse appears at the door. “Only two at a time.”
“She almost died,” Jax says flatly.
“We all need a second,” Zephyr adds.
The nurse looks at all three of them. At me. Then she just walks away without another word.
I’m relieved.
Callum turns back to me and kisses me again. Longer this time.
