Bring Me to Life

by Kira Sinclair

  Hands moved on her body. She knew they were there, felt as they checked her for injuries she’d already told them she didn’t have. They asked her questions. She answered, although she couldn’t remember any of them.

  She couldn’t pull her gaze away from the doors.

  And couldn’t stop the sigh of relief when they finally wheeled a stretcher out of the bank. Evan was strapped down, but at least he wasn’t covered with a sheet.

  In fact, other than the equipment surrounding him, he looked okay—for someone who’d been shot.

  His eyes were open and frantically searching the crowd gathering outside the bank.

  “Tatum,” she heard him say. “Tatum,” he said again, his voice rising above the chaos.

  He shoved against the restraints keeping him in place, pushing up on his elbows to get a better view.

  And giving Tatum an unobstructed look at his chest covered with blood-soaked padding.

  Her stomach rolled. “I’m going to be sick,” she managed to say before someone shoved something plastic in front of her face.

  “Sir, you need to lie back down so we can get you to the hospital.”

  “Not before I see my wife. Tatum!” he hollered. She could hear the panic in his voice. The man who’d just stared down an armed robber without batting an eyelash was worried about her.

  And she was over here losing her lunch.

  Pushing the bowl away, Tatum stumbled to her feet. They were numb. She couldn’t feel them, but at least they held her up long enough to cross the parking lot to where the men with the stretcher had stopped.

  The moment he saw her, Evan ceased struggling and dropped back to the gurney. He held out a hand, which she took.

  His grip was strong. Stronger than she’d expected.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

  “I’m fine, Tatum.”

  She shook her head. How could he say that? He’d been shot. Was headed to the hospital where the doctors would probably have to operate to get the damn bullet out of his chest cavity.

  “I’m fine, Tatum. I promise.” Using their clasped hands, he reeled her closer until she was practically lying on the stretcher with him.

  Cupping her chin in his hand, he forced her to look him straight in the eye. “The bullet just grazed my side. It’s nothing. I’ve had far worse.”

  “If that’s supposed to make me feel better, Evan, it isn’t working.”

  He laughed, the sound breaking into a groan at the end.

  “Sure, it’s just a flesh wound,” she said, trying to fight out of his hold. But he wouldn’t let her go.

  How was it, even with a bullet wound, the man was stronger than she was? Talk about frustrating. And a touch demoralizing.

  “Let me go, you idiot, so these nice men can get you to the hospital.”

  “Not until I know you’re okay.” His voice dropped low. “I know this has to be freaking you out right now.”

  She hated that he knew her well enough to realize that. She had no secrets from him, which left her feeling completely vulnerable.

  There was nowhere to hide, not from him. Not from herself.

  “I’m fine,” she lied anyway.

  “You’re not,” he countered.

  He leaned his forehead against hers. Tatum’s eyes closed. She breathed deep, pulling in the sharp, spicy scent of him into her lungs.

  How could something so simple both hurt and soothe at the same time?

  God, she was a mess.

  “I promise, baby. I’m fine. As long as you’re okay, I’ll always be fine.”

  She swallowed back the heavy lump threatening to choke her. Somehow she found the force to push out words she didn’t really mean.

  “I’m fine, Evan. I was shaken, but now I’m okay. Go to the hospital. I’ll be right behind you.”

  He pulled back. His eyes, more golden than green, searched her face. She had no idea what he was looking for, but apparently he was satisfied because he nodded.

  The men, who’d been waiting patiently while they had their moment, sprang into action. Evan kept hold of her hand until he couldn’t anymore, his fingers finally slipping out from between hers.

  She felt their loss like a tear deep inside.

  The paramedics loaded him into the ambulance, one jumping in beside him. Someone smacked a palm on the closed doors and then they were gone.

  And whatever she’d been using to hold herself together failed completely.

  For the second time that day, Tatum dropped to the ground.

  * * *

  HE WAS FRUSTRATED, with everything and everyone.

  The doctors were taking their damn sweet time getting him patched up and released. The groove the bullet had cut through his side hurt like a son of a bitch, but he’d refused the pain meds. Several times. The last thing he wanted was to be fuzzy headed.

  It was just pain, and Evan had learned how to handle his fair share over the years. They’d given him a local when they stitched up the wound, but it was already wearing off. And he was still sitting on his ass in a hospital gown that showed way more of his skin than he was comfortable with.

  He had no idea where his clothes were, not that they’d be much good considering the emergency room staff had cut them off his body, even after he’d started yelling at them not to.

  No one had listened to him.

  The bullet had gone through his shirt not his favorite pair of perfectly broken-in jeans.

  He’d also asked for Tatum, but so far none of the nurses had produced her. He was going to be pissed if they were keeping her out in the waiting room when she could have been keeping him company—and from losing his mind.

  He’d seen the way she’d fallen apart at the bank. He’d seen that haunted, hunted look too many times not to recognize it.

  She wasn’t okay, and he wouldn’t feel comfortable until he could settle what had spooked her.

  One of the nurses returned, a frown pulling hard on her lips and his discharge paperwork in her hand. “You know we really want to keep an eye on you for a little longer.”

  “I’m fine.” He was getting tired of saying those words.

  “There’s a prescription for an antibiotic in here.” She glared at him, fists balled onto her hips. She’d obviously missed her calling as a prison guard. “Get it filled and take it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, trying to suppress a smile.

  She grunted, narrowing her eyes, but didn’t say anything else.

  They provided him with a pair of scratchy, uncomfortable scrubs to wear, but better those than marching out of the hospital with his ass on display.

  He walked through the swinging double doors, half expecting to find Tatum waiting for him, so he was shocked as hell when Gage Harper pushed away from the wall.

  “Where’s my wife?”

  “At home with her girls.”

  Dread sank into Evan’s stomach, but years of training allowed him to school his features.

  “She okay?”

  “No, man, she really isn’t.”

  Evan screwed his eyes tightly closed. Gage wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. But hearing the words somehow made them real and not just a fear manifesting in his head.

  Clapping a huge hand across his shoulders, Gage said, “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

  The trip was silent, Evan’s brain scrambling twenty different directions in an attempt to prepare for the worst-case scenario that he was likely walking into.

  It was almost like prepping for battle.

  When they pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, and Gage chose to stand beside his vehicle, hands balled into fists, instead of going up the walk, Evan’s sense of panic deepened.

  The front door opened before he reached it and Hope stood framed in the doorway. He thought she wasn’t going to let him inside, but after several tense seconds, she stepped outside and out of the way.

  “Everyone else left about fifteen minute
s ago.”

  Evan started to walk past, but her hand on his arm stopped him.

  “She’s afraid, Evan. Scared out of her ever-lovin’ mind.”

  “I know.”

  “No, I don’t think you do. And I’m not sure she completely does, either.”

  What was he supposed to do with that? Hope wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know. Tatum’s fear had been a tangible thing, living between them, since he’d gotten back.

  For a little while, he’d thought he’d broken past it. But in one quick moment the gulf was back. Right along with his worst nightmare—that eventually he wouldn’t be able to find a way across again.

  It was clearly not a good sign that she hadn’t been at the hospital.

  But Hope was waiting for some acknowledgement so he nodded his understanding. She squeezed his arm and offered a small smile that was far from reaching her eyes, and then let him go.

  He walked into the still, silent house.

  Tatum wasn’t the kind of woman who liked unnecessary noise. She didn’t play music or have the TV running for no reason. But usually there was...something. The sound of her chair squeaking as she rocked back and forth while she read a book. Or the clang of knives and pans as she puttered around in the kitchen.

  Now there was nothing. Not a single sound.

  “Tatum?” he called, walking through the den and into the kitchen.

  She sat at the small table wedged into the corner, her gaze pulled toward absolutely nothing.

  Crossing to her, he crouched beside her, resting a hand over her clasped fingers pressed to the table. Damn, she was ice cold.

  “Baby?”

  Slowly, she turned to look at him. It was the only way she acknowledged his presence at all. And when she finally did, Evan gasped, as if he had been punched in the gut. He wanted to double over. No, he wanted to throw up.

  Dammit all to bloody hell. She was devastated. And he’d put that expression on her beautiful face.

  “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

  Lifting his shirt, he showed her the line of tiny stitches running along his side just beneath his armpit. “See, a scratch. They patched me up and sent me home.”

  Her mouth thinned and a spark of something lit in the back of her eyes. Thank God.

  Well, he thought that until she opened her mouth.

  “Sure, this time, Evan. What about next time? What happens then? When the next crazy lunatic with a gun manages to shoot straight? Or there’s a kid with a bottle rocket. Or a handsy guy at the bar.”

  She was on a roll, words pouring out of her mouth so quickly they were jumbling together.

  “I’ve already buried you once, Evan. I was broken. Practically comatose.”

  Tears washed her eyes and spilled over, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “When you were gone, I finally understood why my dad did what he did. Up to that point, there had always been a part of me that was angry with him. Hurt. Because he chose the easy way out instead of fighting. Fighting for time with me.”

  Her hand trembling, she laid it softly across her heart.

  Tatum’s words gutted him, but it was the expression in her eyes that left him bleeding and defenseless. The mixed terror and guilt and anger and love and hope.

  “But I understood it after they told me you had died. It took so much effort to wake up every day that not waking up suddenly sounded good. Just for the pain to end.”

  “But you didn’t, Tatum. You didn’t take the easy way out.”

  “No, but it was tempting. Way more tempting than I ever thought it could be.”

  She dropped her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “The problem is I don’t think I have the strength to go through that again. To let you back into my life only to lose you.”

  “You aren’t going to lose me.”

  “You can’t promise that. And even if you could...”

  Her gaze met his again, but this time there was no turmoil. Never once would he have expected to prefer that, but as much as it hurt him to see her struggling, it was far better than the cold, dead, blankness staring back at him.

  “We’re different people now, Evan. I realized that in the bank. Watching you confront that guy. Take him down. You could have killed him with your bare hands.”

  Evan rocked back on his heels.

  “You were so ruthless and...focused. Hardened. You didn’t hesitate at all. Not for a single second. You were ready to kill, and we both know it.”

  Of course he’d been ready to do bodily harm. The man had a gun pointed at her!

  But that wasn’t what she meant.

  She was talking about him. About the monster he’d been afraid was locked away deep inside. The one she’d finally realized was there.

  “What are you saying?” he asked, trying to keep his voice low and measured.

  She didn’t blink. “I think it would be better if you left.”

  It was what he’d feared all along—she would see beneath the polished surface of the man she’d once loved to what he’d been forced to become to survive.

  And not be able to love them both.

  So he did exactly what she asked.

  He walked away.

  15

  FOR SEVERAL DAYS, Tatum managed to put up a brave front, pretending everything was fine. She rose in the morning, drove to Petals and acted as though it didn’t gut her knowing Evan wouldn’t be working beside her.

  How could she have gotten so used to him being a part of her life again in such a short time?

  She’d blown off the girls several times, but knew when the bell over the door chimed at ten minutes until closing time, it would be Hope, Willow, Lexi, Jenna and Macey. Her reprieve had come to an end.

  Especially when she realized Lexi carried a huge bakery box, no doubt full of decadent, fattening, sugar-laden goodies. And Macey was double fisting bottles of wine.

  Flipping the Closed sign and locking the door, they didn’t give her a choice, simply ushered her into the workroom.

  The top of the box was flipped open to reveal an assortment of treats, luckily none of them aphrodisiac chocolates because that might have sent her immediately over the edge. Willow broke out glasses and poured.

  Fudge-covered brownie in one hand, glass of wine in the other, Hope hopped onto the counter, settling in as though she planned to stay all night. “All right, sister, spill it.”

  “Spill what?”

  Willow arched a single, elegant eyebrow in her direction, and the wall Tatum had been holding everything behind for days cracked.

  The tears started, quickly turning into ugly sobs, the kind with black mascara smears that required a box of tissues.

  Lexi rubbed her back. Jenna gently extricated one wet, soggy ball of tissues to replace it with a dry one as needed. Hope crouched in front of her, holding her hands. They just let her pour out all the pent-up emotions.

  When the tears finally slowed, Hope asked, “Feel better?”

  She really wished she could say yes, but while some of the pressure in her chest had eased, the worst of it remained.

  Because Evan was still gone.

  And she was the one who’d sent him away.

  “Not really,” she sniffled.

  “Wanna tell us about it?”

  Tatum craned her head to look at Willow. Calm, cool Willow. How often had she wanted to be like her? Even when there was a crazy stalker after her, Willow had kept her head.

  But that just wasn’t Tatum. She had a quick temper and a sarcastic tongue. Her mouth often ran away with her, words spilling out before her brain could body check them into submission.

  And Hope, so dedicated and determined. Once she made her mind up about something, she tackled the task head-on.

  “How do you do it?” she asked her friend.

  “Do what?” Hope asked.

  “Deal with the fear.”

  Everyone knew Gage Harper had a wild streak a mile wide, combined with a penchant for
finding trouble. Even retired from the Rangers, he still found plenty of danger—skydiving and riding his vintage Harley, even if he did wear a helmet now.

  Hope shrugged. “You just do. Because no one knows what tomorrow’s going to bring. I was so worried about Gage being hurt in combat, but in the end, it was something stupid that almost took him from me.”

  “Shit happens,” Willow chimed in. “And it isn’t just our men. I mean, who would have expected me to be kidnapped and Tasered?”

  No one, which had been part of the problem. None of them had been prepared.

  “I guess my point is,” Willow continued, “sure, Evan might take a few more risks than your average Joe, but bad things happen all the time to good people.”

  They had a point. Logically, she realized that. But emotionally... “Yeah, but none of you had to bury the love of your life.”

  Lexi wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “No, thank God, we didn’t. But, honey, I hate to point out the obvious. It happens. All the time. The difference here is you get a second chance.”

  “God forbid something did happen to Gage,” Hope said. “I know I’d give anything to have him back. You have a flesh-and-blood miracle, or as close as I think you’ll ever get to one, Tatum. And I’d hate to see you alone and unhappy for the rest of your life because you were scared to be grateful for it.”

  Hope’s quiet words slammed into Tatum’s chest. The pain of them spread, but behind that first wave was a warmth that thawed out the cold that had invaded her skin the moment she’d walked into the bank and stared straight down the barrel of a gun.

  She’d gone numb, not out of fear for herself, but fear for Evan. Even before he’d acted, she knew exactly what he’d do.

  Be the hero.

  Because that’s the man he was. A husband she was proud of. A man who put others before himself. Every single time. A man with integrity and honor who fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

  How could she turn her back on a man like that?

  She was a coward, and for a brief second, hated herself for the weakness she’d let rule her.

  God, she hoped it wasn’t too late to fix this.

  Racing across the room, she rummaged around in her purse until she found her cell phone. And dialed a number she’d had for three years but had never bothered to use—Locklyn Granger.