“I saw him reach inside his jacket and… I just…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. “I should have known it wasn’t our fosterfather that sent me those texts. I just couldn’t take the risk. Neither you nor Griff need to blame yourselves.”
“Erin,” I whisper. “You were shot. Right in front of me. If anything would have happened to you… If I’d lost you… Erin, I need to tell you something.”
Her breath shifts, shallow and uneven, pupils blown as she stares at me. Her body goes taut beneath the thin sheets.
The monitor behind her begins to climb. It’s as if she knows three words I’m going to say and is afraid of hearing them.
Not now, Chase.
Not when she’s fighting to breathe evenly.
So, instead, I say, “I had to tell Bella about your mom showing up in Huxley Bay when she and Brodie got here.” Her body relaxes, and the numbers on the screen lower. “I didn’t tell her everything.”
“How mad is she?”
“She’s not mad. She’s hurt and confused.”
Erin sighs.
“And she’s grounding you until you’re thirty,” I add, trying to lighten the mood.
It works and she cracks a faint smile. It isn’t much, but the tiny curve of her lips is as comforting as a rainbow after a storm.
“I guess it’s time to have that heart-to-heart I’ve been putting off. Is she still here?”
“She’s staying at the hotel down the road. Do you want me to call her?”
“Yes, but I also need you to call Brax. I don’t think they’re gonna let me outta here anytime soon. And the three of us need to talk about the secrets we’ve been keeping.”
I know what she’s talking about—the locked door.
“Erin,” I sigh. “You just woke up from surgery. Give yourself a minute, baby.”
Tears build inside her again as she shakes her head. “This can’t wait, Chase.”
I swipe her sadness away.
I hate seeing her cry.
“Not anymore.” She sniffles. “Please?”
“Okay,” I say after a beat. “You’re right. The three of us do need to talk. But not in the hospital.” I keep my voice even. “Brax is already here. He’s talking to the cops about the shooting. He’ll stay when they question you.”
“Did you call him?” she asks.
“He was on his way before you got hurt. He figured out Clarissa Rose was headed here, and I guess he was right to worry,” I say, smoothing circles with my thumb along the back of her hand. “We’ll talk, I promise. But when we’re home. You need to rest. A few days isn’t going to change anything.”
There’s reluctance in her voice when she says, “Okay.”
A knock on the door steals our attention. Brax pops his head into the room.
“Hey, kid,” Brax says as he steps through. His gaze sweeps over Erin, and his jaw ticks—barely—but I sense it.
He’s rattled.
The bed dips from his weight when he sits next to her. His hand closes around hers. “I’m so damn sorry.”
“You did nothing wrong,” she reassures him. “This is not on you.”
