None of us chase him. Because we can’t. There’s too many eyes. Which is exactly why he came here.
We knew it was a possibility that he’d make an appearance tonight, but considering it’s a wildlife conservation gala and he’s actively trying to destroy the wildlife in the area, we weren’t sure he’d have the balls. And for most of the night, he didn’t. In fact, I’d wager everything I have that he walked in and came straight for Abigail.
Her fingers twitch in my hand, and I look down instantly. “Sweetheart?” Linc says softly.
Her lashes flutter again, and she slowly cracks her eyes open. They’re unfocused and glassy as they look up at me. Relief hits me so hard I nearly choke on it.
“Jas…” she murmurs.
That one word wrecks me.
I lower my forehead to hers carefully. “Shh. Shh, Abbie Girl. I’ve got you. You’re okay. We’re getting you some help, okay?”
Her breathing steadies just slightly as I hear sirens growing louder in the distance.
Linc shifts closer to her other side, his voice calm but tight. “You took a fall, Sweetheart. Ambulance is almost here.”
She tries to move, and I tighten my grip gently. “Don’t move. Stay still for me.”
Her eyes find mine again, barely open, confusion swimming there.
Fear flashes through me all over again, so I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead, just above the forming bruise. “We’re all right here,” I whisper. “Not going anywhere.”
Hospitals smell like antiseptic and fear.
I’ve never liked either.
Especially not since I had to sit in a hospital and watch my sister heal after our own father almost took her from me. After hedidtake my mother from me.
Even when I’ve gotten hurt on the back of a bull, I did everything I could to avoid coming to this godforsaken place.
And yet, here I am.
Staring at the love of my life.
She looks too small in that bed.
Too pale.
There’s an IV running into her arm. A heart monitor beeping steady, rhythmic reminders that she’s still here despite the dark bruise that mars her temple, severe against her soft, pale skin.
I haven’t stopped staring at it.
She’s drifted in and out twice since we got here. Both times her eyes barely opened before sliding shut again. She tried to answer a nurse’s questions, but her words were slurred and unfocused.
The four of us are crammed into her small room, desperate to see her hazel eyes staring back at us.
When we first got here, the staff made it clear that since we weren’t “family” the four of us weren’t allowed in her room. But one look at the mix of sheer terror, panic, and anger plastered across all of our faces and the sweet older lady at the intake desk—who we will be sure to send the biggest gift basket known to man kind—relented and let us back on the promise we wouldn’t cause any problems. None of us argued when she fixed us with a glare that could drop even the strongest man to his knees and made it clear that even the slightest hint of trouble would have us thrown out on our asses.
Lincoln sits closest to the bed on her left, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped so tight his knuckles are white. He’s the picture of calm on the outside, but I know him. I know his jaw has been locked so hard for the last hour; I wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked a tooth.
Lawson stands near the window, arms crossed, staring out into the dark parking lot. He hasn’t moved much. Just the occasional grunt at the staff while keeping a watchful eye. Calculating, really.
Beau is pacing.
Back and forth, and back and forth. Like a caged animal that’s chomping at the bit to be unleashed. It’s rare I see him like this; it’s usually me. But when he is, it’s easy to understand the gravity of the situation.
And me?
