“I almost lost you.” I hear the lump building in her throat.
Leaning forward, I bring my mouth to hers. “But you didn’t,” I whisper against her lips.
Over the past three days, I’ve learned to accept the help she offers. It’s the only way to ease the guilt she feels, even though I’ve told her many times she has nothing to feel guilty about. Three days ago, I left the hospital after a four-day stay. It was a bullet wound to the shoulder, not a vital organ. But the doctors refused my pleading to leave sooner. I’d been patched up andthrown back on the battlefield for worse injuries, but again, they didn’t want to hear it. Neither did Wren.
That evening a week ago will haunt us for a while. I wasn’t scared of staring down the barrel of a gun; I’d had plenty pointed in my direction, but it was the fear of losing her. Of never holding her in my arms again.
I can’t describe the worry and panic I experienced as I watched her tumble from the moving van. Even at a low speed, she hit the berm with so much force. Nate barely had his SUV in park before I was flinging open the door and running toward Wren. I didn’t assess the situation, didn’t worry about the danger I was putting myself in. All I saw was her tiny body rolling through the ditch, collecting dirt and gravel, and I could only imagine the injuries.
When her head popped up, I saw those whiskey eyes searching for me, and I was gone. Nothing and no one was standing in the way of me getting to her.
It seemed like time stood still as we ran toward each other, but the space never shrank, almost as if we were running in place. Then I saw the gleam of metal pointed toward her and the declaration the motherfucker shouted. “No one gets what’s mine.” Too bad, she wasn’t his to begin with.
She was, is, and always will bemine.
Without a second thought, I was diving toward her as if my only purpose in this life was to protect her. The bullet ripped through my left shoulder as searing pain nearly blinded me. I’d take a hundred bullets as long as she was still breathing.
More chaos ensued following the shot, but it didn’t last long and the monster who haunted Wren was no longer someone we had to worry about.
Her freedom was returned.
She was no longer fighting a war.
She’s safe.
I was life-flighted to Dayton where I underwent hours in surgery as doctors worked to make sure I didn’t lose function ofmy arm. Thankfully, it wasn’t as severe as they initially thought. Our families and friends gathered in the waiting room as they waited beside Wren, who was a mess. Guilt ate her alive, but it wasn’t her fault. It was Elias’s, and we don’t have to worry about him any longer.
Once again, the Riggsbys and Drummonds were shown how fragile life is and, luckily, it was only a shot in the shoulder. I wasn’t in harm’s way, but my mom wouldn’t leave me alone, even though Wren was with me. She was always stopping by with Grandma and Grandpa. Wren’s Grams would pop up as frequently with Mark. Saylor cried every time she saw me.
It was suffocating in the best way. I was surrounded by people I loved, but I shut them out two days later and told them we’d call if we needed anything. Our friends texted and we assured them we were fine but were going to hole up in my house for a while. Wren and I needed each other to heal and seal this chapter. But today, our families are coming over for Sunday lunch at our house. We couldn’t keep them away any longer and settled on lunch rather than dinner.
I brush a piece of hair from her face. Wren’s leaning against me, elbow resting on my stomach, her head perched in her hand as she balances on the edge of the couch. I bring my arm down around her middle, holding her steady while her weight settles into me. It’s an awkward angle, but she fits.
“Y’know, I do need something.”
I turn, bringing our noses close together.
“What’s that, baby?” She goes to get up, but I keep her close.
“You.”
Wren rolls her eyes. “The doctor—”
“The doctor cleared me for physical activity with limitations.”
“The way you toss me around the bedroom isn't an activity without limitations,” she mocks.
“Fine, I have another proposition.”
“What?” She narrows her eyes, already suspicious. “Nothing to overexert yourself. We have company coming here soon.”
“I won’t,” I say easily, but her head tilts in concern.
I shift deeper into the couch, careful with my shoulder, angling myself until I’m comfortable. One leg is stretched out while the other is bent, resting on the ground. I shift a pillow until my head is comfortable, draping my good arm along the arm of the couch.
“Sit on my face.”
“J!” She lightly smacks my stomach, laughing in surprise. “There’s no way.”
