“To the black site,” Z replied. “The ALPHA physician is meeting us there. Are you injured?”
“Just hypothermia,” Brit said. “We were buckled and the airbags deployed, so I didn’t hit my head when we slammed into the water.”
“Joaquin, are you okay?”
“Never fuckin’ better.”
Beneath their blankets, she clutched his hand.
Twenty minutes later, Z pulled around to the back of the building, tapped the visor. The giant garage door rose. He pulled in. The door shut.
They went inside, Z’s feet eating up the floor as he made his way to the medical wing. She wasn’t even going to try to keep up. Their terrifying ordeal was starting to sink in. She would have drowned if it hadn’t been for Rebel.
He led them into an exam room with a single hospital bed, opened a cupboard, and pulled out two hospital gowns. “Let me get another bed.”
Rebel raked his hand through his damp hair. “Philip, I’ll sit in the chair.”
“Dad, can we have a minute?” Brit asked. “We still have on our wet underwear.”
Z’s phone rang. “The doctor is here. I’ll bring her in. Open the door when you’re ready.”
He left, closing the door behind him.
They stripped down, dressed in the hospital gowns. Rebel wrapped her in his arms, held her close. “You did great.”
She held him so tightly, he chuffed out a laugh. “No worries. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never, ever going anywhere.”
“I’m sorry about what I said, earlier,” she whispered.
“No apology needed. You were being honest.” He tipped her face toward his. “Breaking up would be something we’d both regret. You know that, right?”
She nodded.
He dipped down, kissed her.
Everything shifted back into place. They were safe. They weren’t physically hurt. They were together.
Rebel kissed her forehead, broke away to pull a blanket off the counter. When Brit sat on the hospital bed, he laid the blanket over her lap before opening the door and easing into the nearby chair.
A moment later, Z entered with a middle-aged woman, her hair in a pony tail, her face makeup free.
“This is Dr. Joyce Ferguson, my personal physician and surgeon.”
“I hear your vehicle went over a bridge,” the doctor said.
“Nothin’ more than a rollercoaster at a theme park,” Rebel replied.
She opened a drawer, pulled out a stethoscope. “Britain, would you like them to step out while I examine you?”
“I’ll wait in the hall.” Z exited, shutting the door behind him.
As Dr. Ferguson was examining Brit, she asked, “Are you in pain?”
“It feels like my toes have frostbite,” Brit said. “My muscles hurt from swimming. What happened hasn’t sunk in yet.”
The doctor nodded as she continued her exam.
When finished she said, “You’ve got no lacerations, nothing appears to be broken. Is the feeling coming back in your hands and feet?”
