Later, I don’t know if it’s minutes, hours, I don't know, the door cracks open. A blanket settles over my shoulders. Hunter or Colten or Jett, I don't look up to see which. The door clicks shut again.
My whole body is one deep bruise, and I can't feel any of it. There's only his hand in mine, and the small, stubborn heartbeat between us, and the count running in my head as I finally slip under.
Eight seconds, Acey baby.
Then eight more.
I'll be here for every single one.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Harper
An entire day of sitting by his bedside.
They've started reducing the sedatives and got him breathing on his own. They're going to bring him around.
I haven't let go of his hand. I refuse to. Well, except for the couple of times I had to pee, because apparently growing a human means your bladder runs the show now. I keep talking to him. About anything and everything. I've told him about the vacations we need to take. The fact that I need him to go and blow up a beach house in LA that I now own. The fact that our baby is the size of a peach this week.
"A peach, Ace," I told him this morning, holding his hand against my bump. "You're going to lose your mind over that one. I already know it."
His hand twitches in mine, and I nearly jump out of my chair.
His head rolls from side to side, and he groans. I run to the door, shouting for anyone. A doctor, preferably.
His brothers rush in behind me, followed by the doctor.
"Harper," Ace croaks. I hardly recognize his voice. But it’s his, that’s all that matters to me.
The machines beep beside him. I watch his heart rate climb on the monitor, so I grab his hand and squeeze.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here," I tell him, loud enough to make sure he hears it.
His eyes flutter open; he’s fighting himself to come back.
His brown eyes are glassy and unfocused, drifting around the room until they find me.
And he smiles. Swollen face, split lip, tube marks, and the man still manages that grin.
"There's my Goldie," he slurs.
The whole room exhales, and all of my broken pieces start to fit back together again.
The doctor moves in, checking his pupils with a penlight. "Mr. Sterling, can you tell me where you are?"
Ace squints at him and considers the question with the deep seriousness of a very drunk man.
"Heaven," he says. Then frowns. "No. Wait. There's a doctor. Heaven wouldn't need doctors." He looks at me. "Am I dead, baby? You look like an angel. That's confusin' the hell outta me."
"You're not dead, Ace." I'm laughing and crying at the same time. "You're in the hospital."
"Hospital." He nods slowly. "Where? Are we safe?"
"Gianna's sorted that."
"The scary Italian lady?" His eyes go wide. "Did we win?"
Colten snorts from the corner. "Yeah, bro. We won."
