Page 125 of Safe Keeping


Font Size:

“Here’s some water for that dry throat.” The top of my bed starts to rise, and when I’m somewhat sitting up, I blink my eyes open and scowl at the brightness of the fluorescent lights, but there’s a straw in front of my lips, so I lean in and take a pull of the cool water.

That feels good.

“I want Gideon.” I glance around the room. “Where am I?”

“The White House, of course,” the nurse says. “I’ll be right back.”

Why am I in Washington?

And where is my man? Where’s Willow?

Don’t panic. They’re probably around here somewhere. Grabbing food, or getting some fresh air.

I’m taking a deep breath, trying to calm down, when my father walks into the room and offers me an encouraging smile.

“Hi there, pumpkin,” he says. “I’m so damn glad you’re awake.”

“What’s going on?” I ask him as he sits on the bed, by my hip, and takes my hand in his. “Why am I here?”

“Do you remember the attack?”

The attack?

And then it comes back to me. We were at dinner, at the pub, and those men grabbed me.

“Oh, God, is Gideon okay? Did they hurt him?”

I sit up straight, panic shooting through me.

“Whoa, Lena, calm down.”

“Is. He. Okay?”

Dad nods and kisses me on the forehead. “He’s okay. No one was seriously hurt but you. Well, and the ones who tried to take you. I can’t tell you more than that right now. I don’t want you to stress yourself. You have a head injury, sweetheart, and you need to rest.”

I feel tears track down my cheeks.

“Dad, is it all over?”

“Yes, baby. That I can tell you. You’re home now, and you can get back to your life.”

I swallow hard.

Back to my life.

“My life is at that ranch, Dad.”

He shakes his head once, and then I hear my mom’s voice.

“Your life is here,” she says and crosses over to kiss my head. “I’m so glad you’re awake. You worried me.”

“Where is Gideon?” I ask her.

“I assume he’s in Montana,” she replies simply, as if my world isn’t falling apart. “And you’re where you belong.”

“Mom—”

“No.” Her voice is sharp now, and I shut my mouth because I know there’s no talking to her when she’s like this. “Get some rest. We’ll move you upstairs out of the infirmary later today.”