Page 86 of His Saving Grace

Chapter 22

Grace’seyelidsached.She tried to open them, but they felt stuck and heavy, like someone had sewn them shut. She should just go back to sleep, where it was dark and dull and silent. But there was an annoying beep, beep, beeping sound beating its way through her skull.

She took a deep breath and pried her eyelids open.

The brightness caused her to tear up, and she blinked to clear her vision. The first thing that struck her was the starkness. It took her foggy brain a minute to remember she was in the hospital. The beeping heart monitor should have been her first clue.

That and how her entire body ached. The ache wasn’t on the surface, but buried deep, thanks to some serious painkillers. The doctor had been in when she’d woken up earlier, explaining about her emergency surgery and all that stuff. And then exhaustion had overwhelmed her and she’d fallen back asleep.

One heartbeat and beep, followed by a second, and then the rest came flooding back. David in her house. Forcing her to go with him in the rain. Mason confronting them. Trying to run away, to keep the Callahan’s safe. Something hitting her, forcing her to the ground and then searing pain in her back. Mason holding her and lifting her and then everything going fuzzy.

What happened after that? Was everyone okay? Where was David? Was anyone else injured? Was Mason okay?

The heart monitor chronicled the increase in her heart rate. Beep, beep, beep, beep. She needed to know if everyone was okay. She turned her head, searching for the call button. There were two men sitting next to her bed.

Mason and Jake. They’d pulled some rather uncomfortable looking chairs up close and were both asleep. They looked like they’d been to war.

Mason, who was closest to her, had a bandage on his cheek, but there were stitches peeking out above it. His chin rested against his chest, and he had a nasty scrape on his neck. His hands, which were covered in scratches and bruises, were folded over his stomach.

Jake looked even worse, with two black eyes and a nose that was definitely broken. His head was tilted to the side. Her neck ached in sympathy. His eyes blinked open. He smiled at her and she wanted to cry. This was all her fault.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but her parched throat had other ideas. She coughed. Jake kicked Mason’s chair, and he came awake with a start. He blinked and scowled at his brother. And then his stormy blue gaze landed on her.

“Hey,” he said, his feature softening.

“Hey.” It was less a word and more a croak.

“Here.” Mason stood and grabbed the pitcher on the tray next to her bed. He splashed a little water in a cup and then sat on the edge of the bed, so he could lift it to her lips.

She wanted to protest, tell him she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, but it was a lie. Her arms refused to cooperate, almost like her bones had been replaced with lead.

The cool water slid down her throat, and she wanted to weep. Okay, that might have been more to do with the entire situation and the drugs coursing through her system. Mason pulled the empty cup away. “Do you want some more?”

She shook her head. He placed the cup back on the tray.

They stared at one another, a weird tension building between them with every beep of her monitor. She plucked at the sheet underneath her fingers.

Jake lumbered to his feet. “So, I think I’m going to give you guys a minute.” He turned and limped out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Mason turned back to her as soon as he was gone, reaching for her hand. He intertwined their fingers. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” She squeezed his hand. “But I think it’s because of the morphine.”

The ghost of a smile touched his lips, but he didn’t respond.

It took every ounce of her strength, but she managed to lift her free hand and touch the side of his face. Her thumb brushed against the bandage on his cheek. “What happened?”

“We got caught in a mudslide and a rock took exception to the way I look.”

She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “I’m sorry.” The apology was just this side of a whisper.

Mason turned his head and placed a soft kiss against the inside of her wrist. “It’s not your fault. This was all on him.”

Grace swallowed, but that wasn’t true. If it hadn’t been for her, none of this would have happened. To any of them. “Where is he?”

Mason looked away, and a length of barbed wire wrapped around her chest. The barbs dug in deep, sharp and biting. Her brain and body were too tired to try to decipher what he wasn’t saying. She brushed her thumb against the back of his hand.

He turned back to her. “He’s dead.”