by Debra Kayn
The other policeman leaned forward and held out his hand. "I’m Detective Garrison. I'll have a few questions for Mr. Steele if he wakes up."
"When." She ignored his handshake. "Not if. He will wake up."
Mr. and Mrs. Steele returned. Ingrid watched the exchange between Glen's parents and the officers. The conversation was kept to a minimum. Like her, his parents hadn't learned the details of what happened last night.
Though surprisingly, Glen had told his mom and dad about her prior to her meeting them. She had no idea when or how but they quietly accepted her without asking any questions and made her feel like she had a right to wait with them at the hospital, which she was forever grateful to them.
When his parents sat down, they took the chairs on each side of her. Glen's mom reached over and squeezed Ingrid's hand in support. They might not have known each other beforehand, but their love for Glen had brought them together.
"Don't you worry. Those boys are not going to let anything happen to Glen," whispered Mrs. Steele.
She nodded, understanding that the boys Mrs. Steel spoke of were the Notus Motorcycle Club members.
A nurse entered the waiting room through a side door. "I'm looking for the family of Glen Steele."
Mrs. Steele pulled Ingrid's hand as she stood with her husband. The tip of her sneaker scuffed the flat carpet, and she stumbled before righting herself. Her leaden legs barely held her up as she studied the nurse's face looking for any sign of what was going on behind closed doors.
"We're Glen's parents," said Mr. Steele. "How is our son?"
"The doctor has moved him from recovery to I.C.U. and apologizes for not coming out and updating you himself. He's been called to the emergency room. Glen is beginning to stir, though he's not fully awake yet. The next twelve hours will be crucial to his recovery as we watch to make sure he has regained full function of his organs with no lasting damage." The nurse touched Mrs. Steele's arm. "The doctor has given permission for family members to go in the room. We'd like to keep it at two people at a time for ten minutes."
Glen was alive. Ingrid inhaled deeply. After imagining the worst, she'd take twelve more hours. She'd wait a lifetime. He was strong, stubborn, and determined.
"Would you like me to walk two of you back to see him? I can show you the way," said the nurse.
Ingrid stepped away. She'd already received the best news she'd hoped for since learning that Glen had been shot.
"Ingrid?" Mr. Steele held on to his wife. "Would you like to go back?"
Yes. Absolutely. Her chest warmed, and she sniffed, controlling her obsessive need to be with Glen. "You're his parents. You need to see your son."
Mr. Steele's gaze softened. "As his father and knowing how Glen feels about you, the best thing I can do for him is let him see the woman he loves. He's going to wake up, and when he does, you should be the first person he sees."
Mrs. Steele reached out her hand. "Come on, honey. You can go back with me. My husband can go in after we've seen Glen for ourselves."
She grabbed Mrs. Steele's hand and mouthed, "Thank you."
At the nearest elevator, they went up to the third floor. Ingrid realized that Mrs. Steele was holding on to her hand as much as she was clinging to Glen's mother for support. She wanted to assure Mrs. Steele that she loved Glen, too. That without him, she wasn't sure how she would cope. It was simply impossible to think of life without him, and no matter how crazy she sounded, there was a connection to him that she couldn't explain.
But, she remained silent. Sick to her stomach. On the verge of a full melt down.
They exited the elevator and walked down the long corridor filled with beeps, murmurs, and hospital employees rushing in and out of rooms with a stoic professionalism that showed the mood for the I.C.U. The nurse stopped outside Room 313.
"We urge you to talk with the patient even if he's not awake. He's going to be disoriented when he regains consciousness. He might not know what happened to him. There's a nurse with him, who will remain by his side until he wakes. She'll call the doctor to come in at the first sign that he's awake." The nurse smiled understandingly. "He's wearing an oxygen mask, for now. He also has a catheter in, wires going to his chest and an I.V. in his arm. I understand it's a lot to see when you're worried, but we're doing all we can for him. If you have any questions the nurse can't answer for you, the doctor will be available as soon as he's able or you can talk to the attending doctor."
"Thank you." Mrs. Steele stood straighter, squeezed Ingrid's hand before letting go, and pushed open the door.
Ingrid followed. The rhythmic beeping beside the bed drew her attention. She followed the cords and tubing from the machines to the bed, but Mrs. Steele blocked her view of Glen. All she could make out was the white sheet over his legs at the end of the bed.
Her scalp tingled. She opened her mouth to draw in more air. If she passed out, they'd send her out of the room. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, she went to the end of the bed, studying the outline of Glen's legs. Under the sheet, she could pretend that nothing was wrong. That he wore his black boots and still had on the pair of Levi's with the hole at the knee and the worn hem from hitting the asphalt when he rode his motorcycle.
The form under the cover moved. Ingrid snapped her gaze to the top of the hospital bed and gasped, quickly stifling her reaction.
Glen's eyes were open, and he looked straight at her. She covered her mouth and reached out, placing her hand on his lower leg, needing to validate that he was alive, he was breathing, he was going to live. In the back of her mind, she was aware of Mrs. Steele talking softly beside the bed. The nurse talking on the phone. The oxygen machine hissing.
Nothing else mattered because Glen looked at her. She looked at him. They needed each other.
Chapter 41
Ingrid sat on the hospital bed. Glen let her cradle his hand in her lap because it hurt to fucking breathe and he had no problem letting her touch him for both of them.
"The doctor is going to move you up to the fourth floor to a regular room in the morning." She stroked the back of his fingers. "All the monitors will come off you."
"Good." He looked into her tired eyes. "What time is it?"
She looked up and then over her shoulder. "A little after four o'clock in the afternoon."
"Friday?"
"No. Wednesday. You've been here three days." Her throat muscles constricted. "Your, um, parents had to take care of things at home but will be back this evening before visiting hours are over. They haven't left your side. They love you so much."
"You need to rest." His dry mouth made talking hard.
Ingrid let go of his hand, picked up the cup of water off the bedside tray, and manipulated the straw to his mouth. "Just a sip."
Sweet, wet relief came at the first drop of water. He rubbed his lips together. "Have you left the hospital?"
She shook her head and placed the cup back on the tray. "I don't want to leave you. The nurses have let me sleep in the waiting room. Considering the other places I've slept in the past, it's pretty comfortable."
Even exhausted and probably hungry, she tried to lighten the situation. He squeezed her hand. "Kiss me."
"I'll hurt you."
"I'm hurting if you don't kiss me," he said.
She stood, leaned over him, and hesitated. "You're sure?"
"Don't make me kiss you first because I will."
She lowered her head, and her lips softly skimmed his. He curled his fingers, wishing it didn't hurt like hell to lift his arms because he'd catch her and kiss her the way he wanted to be kissed.
"Deeper," he said against her lips.
She opened her mouth, slowing down, and there it was. That little hesitation wanting him to take over. He dipped his tongue in her mouth, and she sucked softly. That was it. There was nothing wrong with his tongue, his fucking cock, or Ingrid.
She pulled back gently with another soft kiss. He looked into her eyes and whispered, "
Love you, Blue. I haven't told you that, but I do."
Her shoulders rolled forward and her eyes...damned if he couldn't see how much the words meant to her.
"I love you, too," she whispered back. "So, much."
The door to his hospital room opened. Ingrid straightened beside the bed, and he patted her leg before she could move away. "Sit back down. You're not going anywhere."
Wayne, Chuck, and Thad strolled in. He remembered seeing them yesterday standing over his bed. High on pain medicine, everything had seemed like a dream. Today was the first time he'd put together what happened inside the old Police Academy with Evan Kingsley.
Wayne stood at the end of the bed. "He looks better."
Thad walked behind Wayne and planted himself on the other side of the bed. "Nah, he still looks like shit."
Chuck joined Ingrid beside Glen, and muttered, "Ugly fucker in and out of bed."
"Do you think I give a shit what you guys think after going back on my favor?" Glen looked into Wayne's eyes. Fuck, if he'd do the same thing if the positions were reversed. He'd go to hell and back for each one of them.
"We got the official word last night that each one of us has been cleared of Kingsley's death. I told Gomez I'd pass the information along to you. He mentioned he'd stopped by yesterday to tell you, but you were sleeping. Apparently, whatever you said after your surgery convinced the detective that Kingsley shot you first." Wayne cleared his throat and looked at Ingrid.
Ingrid sat on the bed gently at Glen's hip without jostling him. "It's okay. You can talk."
"Appreciate it." Wayne put his attention back on Glen. "They matched the bullets that hit Kingsley and because it was —"
"I know which gun they came from." Glen inhaled, wincing at the discomfort.
Nobody needed to tell him he'd killed Kingsley. It was too important for him to protect Ingrid for him to miss. Blinded by the light or not, he'd emptied his pistol and knew damn well that at least one of the bullets took Evan's life.
"So, we're good with the P.D.?" he asked.
"Yeah. Thanks to the bullets the doctor picked out of your body." Wayne leaned forward and braced his hands on the footboard of the bed. "I also notified the union about why you're away from work. They expect a call as soon as you're able. Once they hear from you, you'll have six weeks of off-job disability you can collect that should see you through."
He closed his eyes. Notus had taken care of everything. "Yeah, I'll do that."
Ingrid stroked his hand. The others quietly talked. He'd walked into the building expecting to kill Kingsley and be arrested. Seven to ten years in prison, knowing Ingrid was safe was worth the hell that he would've gone through in the penitentiary.
He couldn't open his eyes. The damn pain pills already starting to kick his ass.
"What about Officer Kingsley?" he said, wondering if he slurred or only thought he asked the question.
"He's taking a leave of absence from the department." Thad's voice came in his ear. "They found some stuff in Evan's apartment after they obtained a search warrant that verified Evan's intent toward Ingrid and also gave them insight into what he had planned for her after he killed you."
Ingrid's hand stilled in his. He struggled to open his eyes. Only his need to comfort her made it possible to overpower the drugs in his body. She stared at him without saying a word.
"It's okay, Blue." He licked his lips and gave up fighting to stay alert. "It's over."
His body relaxed, and the others continued talking. He only perked up at Ingrid's voice when she said, "No, I'm staying here. But, can one of you go to his house and take care of Daisy? That's the cat. She's inside and needs to be let outside. You can feed her on the deck, then leave her out. She'll be fine. She's done running away."
Damn right, the cat wouldn't run away. Either would Ingrid. He planned to keep what belonged to him. Damned or not, living without her was impossible.
Epilogue
~ Six months later ~
The door of Ingrid's childhood bedroom at her parents' house opened, and Clara poked her head inside. "Are you ready for your mom?"
Ingrid sucked in her stomach and ran her hand down the short, lace and satin ivory dress hugging her body. She looked at her bare legs to her four-inch heels. "Yes."
At her mom's gasp, Ingrid turned around and clasped her hands in front of her. Together with her mom, she'd ordered the dress and shoes online two weeks ago hoping for the best. Glen hadn't given her that much prep time from engagement to wedding.
"What do you think?" Ingrid turned in a circle, stopping when she faced her mom again.
"Oh, honey. It fits you perfectly." Her mom walked over and trailed her hand over Ingrid's hip. "It's beautiful. You're beautiful."
She fingered the hair at her neck. "You were right. The long neckline looks good with short hair."
After growing out her crew cut, she'd had the hairdresser layer and cut her ragamuffin mop into a spunky and edgy style that softened her face and showcased her eyes earlier that morning. Glen had given her four hours alone to get ready for the wedding. She'd accomplished a lot with the help of her mom, Clara, and Gracie. Ingrid sighed happily. Glen only lasted three hours before he wanted to see her. He'd made Wayne call Clara and send the message through that Ingrid was supposed to hurry the hell up. He wanted to get married.
Her mom stepped over to the bed and patted the mattress. "Come here."
Ingrid sat down. "Is everything okay?"
"On my daughter's wedding day? Absolutely." Her mother smiled. "How could it not be when I know Glen is going to take wonderful care of my daughter."
"He really will." She pointed her toes admiring her heels. "I don't know if I've ever been this happy. He's more than I ever hoped for in a husband."
"You love him," whispered her mom.
She nodded. "When I was little, before dad's accident, I use to watch you and Dad. I thought I wanted to marry a man who would come home after work and kiss me until I laughed. Dad was always doing that to you, and I thought that was what marriage was all about, but..."
"But?"
She looked at her mom. "It wasn't the kisses or the touches that I wanted. It was the connection to another person that nothing could sever. An accident never weakened your marriage to dad. Either did him becoming paralyzed and eventually losing the ability to touch, speak, or move. I can see dad's love in his eyes when he looks at you. It's the same way with Glen. I just know our love is the kind that will survive anything life throws at us."
Her mom sniffed and nodded. "I love you."
"I love you, too." Ingrid blew out her breath. "I guess it's time."
Her mom stood and held out her hand. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life with the man you love at your side."
"Yes." She walked to the door.
Taking a deep breath, she walked out to the hallway. She hesitated. The soft hiss of the oxygen machine her dad wore constantly now hummed.
It'd been Glen's idea to hire a minister to come to the house to marry them. He wanted her dad to be there when his only daughter married. She jumped on the idea. The simpler, the better.
She nixed the customary wedding march because her father would not be able to walk her down the aisle. She also refused to participate in the something old, something borrowed, something blue tradition. All she wanted to do was marry Glen.
Her mom slipped around her, smiled, and walked to the bedroom ahead of her. Ingrid straightened her back, looked forward, and walked down the hallway. At the open door, she stopped. Her dad sat in his wheelchair. She swallowed, holding back the tears, and curtsied with a grin for him. For her dad only looked at her.
"It's not too late to change your mind," said her dad in her imagination.
"I won't. I love him," she'd return.
"Then, I'll give my daughter away." Her dad would lean down and whisper in her ear. "And, if he ever hurts you. I will be there to save you and bring you home again."
"I know you wil
l, daddy," she'd whisper back.
She swiped her cheek free of the tear that'd escaped, exhaled softly, and gazed at the others in the room. Her stomach warmed. Wayne, Chuck, and Thad stood beside each other wearing their Notus Motorcycle Club vests. Clara and Gracie stood together smiling identically at her from the other side of the minister.
Pauly stood behind her father's wheelchair nodding in approval. He'd turned out not only to be a fair and dedicated boss but a wonderful friend to her. She'd never met anyone who could understand her questions or test her patience with philosophy the way Pauly did on more than a few occasions.
Unable to hold back any longer, she gazed at Glen and found him studying her. Her breath caught in her chest and her face warmed with a flush from the way he looked at her. That look that needed no kisses, no touches, no words.
He looked extra gorgeous in the white dress shirt he'd bought specially for the wedding, his jeans, and his MC vest. Her toes curled in her heels. The beard he'd stopped shaving since he'd met her was trimmed and let her catch a glimpse of the small muscle twitch in his upper lip, and she smiled. He'd been drawn to holding a toothpick in his mouth lately, but for today, he'd gone without.
The minister moved forward and stood beside Glen. "Shall we begin?"
"Yes," said Glen before Ingrid could answer.
She laughed. There was no stopping him and she loved that about him.
Joining Glen in front of the minister, the love and protection surrounding her overrode the standard wedding speech about better or worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health. The truth of the matter, she never put much trust in a piece of paper or pretty words. She knew about love. It'd come before falling in love with all its ups and downs.
"Do you, Ingrid Peterson, take Glen to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, until death do you part?" said the minister.
She reached up and trailed her finger across Glen's lip. "I do."
The minister read from his notebook. "Will you, Glen Steele, take Ingrid as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to—"