“I thought I lost you,” I sobbed. “There was so much blood, and you stopped breathing, and?—”
“Hey,” He soothed. “I’m okay. I promised you forever, didn’t I?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
“I don’t break my promises.”
“I should get the nurse,” Gator said, but neither of us looked at him. We were too busy staring at each other like we were afraid one of us might disappear.
“Do you remember what happened?”
“That fucker took you.” His eyes narrowed to slits, then instantly flashed with worry. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head quickly. “No. I’m fine. You’re the one who got shot when I told you to stop doing that.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you too. More than anything in this world.”
Gator cleared his throat. “Okay, lovebirds. As much as I enjoy watching you two make googly eyes at each other, the nurse here needs to check him over.”
The next few hours were a blur of doctors and nurses, tests and questions. Everyone wanted to poke and prod, and shine lights in his eyes. But through it all, Weston kept his eyes on me, that crooked smile never leaving his face.
When the medical staff finally cleared out, promising to check on him again in a few hours, we were alone for the first time since he’d woken up.
“Come here,” he said, patting the hospital bed beside him.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“The only thing that’s gonna hurt me is if you don’t get your ass over here right now.”
I carefully climbed onto the bed beside him, curling up against his good side with my head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart under my ear was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” I murmured against his hospital gown.
He chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “That gonna be a problem when I have to take a piss?”
I lifted my head to glare at him. “Weston Basham, you almost died. This is not the time for jokes.”
“Actually,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, “I think this is exactly the time for jokes. We’re alive, baby. Both of us. And that psycho can’t hurt you anymore.”
He was right.
Rodney was dead.
The threat was over.
We were safe.
We were together.
Epilogue
Bash
Two Years Later
