“Yeah, I know. That’s what Doctor Browning said.” What Dr. Browning didn’t mention was that there were any number of things that could go wrong between now and a complete recovery.
“You know,” Sean said. “You could go down to the ER right now and get a CT scan done. I can’t imagine they’re too backed up at two o’clock in the morning. You could be in and out before Mac even wakes up from the anesthesia.”
Emily tried not to roll her eyes. Sean was only being a pest because he loved her and worried about her. “I tell you what, why don’t you google signs of concussion on your smart phone there, and I’ll let you observe me for however long you want.”
He shook his head at her flippant response, but short of picking her up and carrying her out, he had to know she was not leaving this waiting room. “Fine. But I’m also googling signs of internal brain hemorrhage.”
“Have at it, buddy,” Emily said, trying to give him a smile but knowing it was a weak effort.
“We should call his mother,” she said, feeling guilty that she hadn’t thought to do that sooner.
“Already did. I got her cell number from his phone. She was visiting a friend in Florida, but she’s catching the first plane back in the morning.”
“Oh, okay. Good.” Well, that was that then. There was nothing left to do but wait. She checked the flat-panel again. 1KGF254 was still in surgery.
* * *
He’d had moments of wakefulness. He knew he was in a hospital, remembered the panicky feeling of waking up with a tube down his throat. Emily had been there, and the relief of seeing her awake and well had blurred his vision. He cherished the sound of her calming voice in the background when the nurse gave him instructions to cough as she pulled the tube out. His throat had been so sore he hadn’t been able to talk, and in any case, his eyelids wouldn’t stay open.
The few times he’d been awake, he’d felt groggy, drugged, sluggish. But every time she’d been there.
He experimented now by taking a deep breath. His entire torso felt achy, his throat sore, and his body weak, but all things considered, he felt all right for having been shot.
He looked to the right and saw she was still there, curled up in an uncomfortable looking recliner, her neck at an odd angle that would surely be stiff when she woke. The sun, which was either setting or rising, he couldn’t be sure, streamed in, reflecting off of her coppery hair with an ethereal glow. She looked like an angel—his guardian angel.
She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and then practically fell out of her chair when she saw that his eyes were open.
“You’re awake! How do you feel? Do you need anything? The nurse said your mouth might feel dry. Do you want me to get you some ice chips? Some water? Why didn’t I think to have that here already?”
He smiled at her rapid-fire questions. He wanted to tell her to calm down, that he was fine, but all he could manage was to croak the word water.
“Right. Of course. Be right back,” she said.
She returned so quickly, he figured the drink station must be right outside his room. Either that or she had sprinted. Noticing her shortness of breath and general excess of nervous energy, he was leaning toward the sprinting theory.
She helped adjust the bed, raising the head up gradually, continuing her inquisition. “Is this okay? Are you feeling dizzy? A little higher? Lower? Comfortable?”
He answered with head nods and gestures, pointing up to raise the bed, down to recline. Once he was situated, he gratefully sipped the water. “Thanks,” he said, surprised that his voice had somewhat returned after a little lubrication.
She looked down at him, her bright blue eyes welling up with tears. “Hey,” he said, reaching for her hand. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Rather than calming her as he’d intended, this seemed to break her control completely. She held her hand over her mouth, but giant hiccupping sobs escaped, tears overflowing and making her lashes appear thick and spiky.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped her tears away with both hands. “I’m just so relieved that you’re awake and talking.”
“Right. Yes, I’m fine and…wait…who are you again?”
Her breath caught and her eyes widened, but her panicked look quickly gave way to a startled laugh when she noticed his smile.
“Oh, you’re terrible!” She laughed harder, the sound better than any medicine they could pump into him through an IV. “I can’t believe you would joke about that.”
“It really was in poor taste wasn’t it?” But so worth it to hear her laugh.
“Seriously though,” she said, sobering a bit. “You scared the life out of me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She bit her lip, as if she had more to say, but didn’t know how. He remembered her “no cops” dating rule and the way she’d blown up at Sean over how he “played the hero” while she sat at home worrying about him. A rock in the pit of his stomach, he realized what she was undoubtedly about to say. He gave her an opening. “So, I guess this is why you don’t date cops, huh?”
“Yeah.” One word, half laugh, half sigh, but it went straight to his heart, piercing with more destruction than a bullet. He loosened his grip on her hand.
“But the thing is,” she said, taking his hand in both of hers. “It’s too late.”
“Too late?”
“Yeah. It’s too late for the no cops rule. Because we’re already dating. Okay, so we haven’t actually gone out on an official date yet, but we will. You don’t know it, but you’re taking me out…someplace nice…maybe you’ll even spring for some flowers. Gerbera daisies are my favorite.” She smiled through her tears. “It’s too late for that stupid rule, Mac. Because I already love you, and I can’t not be with you. I just can’t. You’re stuck with me…for however long we’ve got.”
“I—” He pulled her toward him until she sat on the edge of his bed, face to face, hip to hip. There were no words. How could he tell her all that she meant to him, all that she’d given him? “I love you,” he said against her lips, knowing the hoarseness of his voice had little to do with the surgery. It was a brief kiss, their embrace made difficult by the IV and chest tubes snaking out of his body, but in it he found a sense of wholeness, a feeling that as long as he had her, he had everything he’d ever need.
* * *
Watching Emily rub her neck, Mac massaged his chest, rubbing over the ache in his heart that returned every time he looked at her worn out form. “Emily, honey, you need to go home and get some rest—sleep in a real bed for once.”
“I’m fine.” She stopped rubbing her neck and dropped her hand. “Besides, I promised your mother you wouldn’t be alone in the hospital. She feels terrible enough that she can’t be here. Knowing someone is with you is probably all that’s keeping her sane.”
“I don’t suppose you were able to convince her not to cut her trip short, were you?”
“I doubt history’s most persuasive speakers, could convince your mother not to come home to her boy,” she said with a tired smile.
Speaking of people who couldn’t be convinced…He wished he had the persuasive skills of Lincoln, or Kennedy, or shit, even Johnny Cochran. Maybe then he’d be able to convince her to go home and take care of herself. What would OJ’s former lawyer say? Something like, If your neck is stiff, you must not sleep ’n sit.
But he’d already tried every argument he could think of. The woman could not be moved. She’d been by his side for two days now, pestering doctors about his progress and seeing to his every need—keeping a ready supply of water on hand, fluffing pillows, bringing reading material, changing the TV channels. He couldn’t have loved her more for it, but every hour he felt stronger, and it was time she took a break.
“According to the news, all this rain that’s been keeping her grounded is going to clear up tomorrow. She’s hoping to catch the 6 A.M. flight and be here shortly after noon.”
Mac nodded.
“Sean came by to see you while you we
re napping. He’s starting to think that you’re pretending to sleep every time he stops in.”
Cautiously, he laughed then held his ribs when the familiar pain spread across his chest.
“Still hurts to laugh?” she asked, her voice full of concern.
“And to breathe sometimes, but it’s not as bad as it was.”
She took his hand in hers, massaging the inside of his palm, completely taking his mind off the pain in his torso. Closing his eyes for a moment, he savored the sensation.
Someone knocked softly on the partially open hospital room door. “Are you serious? He’s sleeping again? You sure he’s not in a coma?” Sean whispered, walking over to stand beside Mac’s bed.
Mac opened his eyes. “I’m not sleeping, douche-bag. I’m recovering from a near fatal gunshot wound.”
Relief lit Sean’s face, and Mac was touched by how worried his friend had obviously been. “Well, let’s get on with it then. It’s just a flesh wound,” Sean said, doing his best Monty Python impression. The effect of his jest was ruined, however, by the break in his voice on the word wound.
He put his hand on Mac’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Glad you’re okay, man.”
“Thanks,” Mac said, briefly letting go of Emily’s hand to pat Sean’s.
And because they were men, those were the only words needed.
Emily resumed rubbing his hand while he and Sean talked business. Sean reported that Carl Franks was still on the hook for the vandalism to Emily’s office, but the phone calls were all from Ted, whose last name they now knew was Ferrell. Ferrell had a history of stalking and domestic violence. His last girlfriend had taken out a restraining order on him that hadn’t been extraordinarily effective until a week ago when he’d decided to focus his attentions on Emily.
Mac didn’t know if he particularly cared either way, but Sean shared that Ferrell had been brought to the hospital DOA.
Pulling the trigger on a legit danger-to-society was an entirely different thing from shooting a young kid. He didn’t expect to lose much sleep over Ferrell.
“Personally, I wish he’d suffered a little first,” Sean said. “But hey, at least he’ll never terrorize another woman. Guys like that…their behavior only escalates.”
Grateful she would be spared Ted’s sickness, Mac glanced at Emily and saw she’d nodded off in the uncomfortable mini-recliner. “Think you could pick her up and take her home without waking her?” he asked Sean.
Her eyes snapped open, and she sat at attention. “I’m awake. I’m awake.”
He turned to Sean. “She promised my mother she wouldn’t leave me alone at the hospital, and now she refuses to listen to reason. Tell her she needs to go home and sleep in a real bed for more than forty-five minutes at a time.”
Sean wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t want to say anything, Sis, but you could use a shower too.”
Mac resisted the urge to laugh, knowing it would make his chest ache.
Emily huffed. “Oh, all right. But Sean, you need to promise that you’ll stay here until I get back. That way I can keep my word to Mac’s mother.”
“Done,” Sean said and then turning to Mac, “You don’t mind moving to the recliner tonight do you? It’s just, my back, it’s really sensitive—” Emily tossed an empty paper cup at him, hitting him directly in the forehead. “I’m kidding! Geez!”
Seeing her outraged glare, Mac couldn’t hold back his laughter this time, and he clutched his ribs, applying pressure to alleviate the pain.
“Sean, look what you’ve done! I swear I can’t trust you two together.” She grabbed the control for the bed and lowered it down slightly, adjusting the pillows beneath Mac’s shoulders. “He’s going to offer to bring in contraband junk food, and I’m not leaving here until you promise me you won’t eat anything the doctor hasn’t given you permission to have.”
“Scout’s honor,” Mac said, lifting his right hand.
One hand braced on the bed above Mac’s shoulder, she leaned over him, her mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. “That’s not the scout’s hand signal. That’s the Vulcan ‘live long and prosper’ sign.”
“I had no idea you were a Trekkie,” he said, smiling and reaching up to slide his Vulcan hand around her nape and pull her closer.
“I’m just full of surprises.”
He loved her teasing grin, wanted to nibble it off her pouty lips.
“Mmm, I just bet you are.” He kissed her smiling mouth. Her lips were soft and warm, and he would have lingered much longer had Sean not begun theatrically clearing his throat.
Eyebrows stuck halfway up his forehead, Sean said, “So it’s like that now, huh?”
Emily ignored her brother and with her palm still resting on Mac’s cheek said, “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning.” She placed a chaste kiss on his forehead and then shot a stern look at both Mac and Sean. “Behave yourselves.”
He and Sean offered mock salutes, and Emily grabbed her purse and walked slowly, reluctantly out of the room.
His gaze lingering on the empty doorway, Mac let out a contented sigh.
Sean leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his face. “I knew it. I knew Emily would be good for you. I mean, look at you—the Mac is back.”
“I wasn’t aware that I’d ever left.”
“You know what I mean. I’m not going to lie to you man, you really had me worried.”
“Worried? About what?”
“I thought you’d lost your edge. I mean, shit, when I pulled up to that domestic and saw you with a gun pointed at your head and your weapon still in its holster, I thought you were either suicidal or…I don’t know what. I thought you were so messed up over that Swanson kid that you’d never draw your gun again.”
Mac was incredulous. “And you thought Emily could fix that?”
Clearly oblivious to the emotions brewing in Mac’s gut, Sean said, “She’s got a way with people, you know? I told her that if you just had someone to talk to about what had happened, that maybe you could exorcise those demons, get back to your old self.”
Anger and disbelief tumbled over one another in the pit of Mac’s stomach until they’d rolled into a hard mass of righteous indignation. “So, let me get this straight. You tried to set me up with your sister, told her I was messed up and needed her help, told her about the Swanson shooting, and what? Hoped she could work her counseling magic on me?”
Sean lost his relaxed pose, sitting forward, shifting his weight to one elbow over the wooden armrest of his chair. “Okay, when you put it like that it sounds underhanded and manipulative. It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?” Mac barely got the words out through his clenched jaw. The thought that Emily might have viewed him as weak, as someone needing her counseling services, made his stomach roil. And knowing that she’d sat there and let him tell her everything that had happened as if she hadn’t already heard it all from Sean had his blood boiling.
“Look, don’t get the wrong idea here. Nobody’s trying to manipulate you—”
Mac snorted in disbelief, thinking of all the times Emily had tried to get him to talk about what was bothering him. Talk to me, she’d said, and he had, hadn’t he? He’d opened up and spilled his guts all over the floor for her to pick apart and analyze, just like he was one of her damn clients.
“Get out,” he said quietly.
“Mac, don’t be ridiculous—”
“I said, get out.” He couldn’t even look at Sean—his gaze fixed on the door in a pointed command for Sean to walk his ass through it. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the heart monitor begin to spike frantically.
Sean shook his head, as if he understood that Mac was through with this conversation. And Mac was through with it. He was so fucking through.
Sean stood up, picked up the wooden chair, and walked toward the door. “I’ll be waiting in the hall. Just holler if you decide you want to talk about this rationally.”
Mac was silent, thinking Sean would be sitting in the hall for a long damn time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Passing an elderly hospital volunteer in the hall—her designation obvious from the badge clipped to her bright floral patterned blouse—Emily prepared her facial features to offer a polite smile and realized she was already smiling. Yes, just the thought of seeing Mac again put that goofy grin back on her face.
She’d gotten a full night of rest after passing out the second her head had hit the pillow, and had woken up feeling revived, despite the horrific trauma of the days before. Surprising, that she should feel so good, so optimistic, after her worst fears had all come to fruition. She’d come very close to losing someone she loved again. But rather than retreating in fear and closing herself off, she was more determined than ever to live in the moment, love in the now, and hold each second with him close to her heart. It was too late to walk away anyhow, too late to put up her old protective defenses, and she didn’t want to. Living that way had been incredibly lonely and in loving Mac, she’d found a completion she had never known before.
Her stomach fluttering with the anticipation of seeing him again, she rounded the corner to Mac’s unit and nearly tripped over Sean. He sat slumped in a chair that he’d apparently pulled out of Mac’s room, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression hostile.
“What’s going on?” she asked, thinking Mac may have asked him to step out while one of the nurses performed some procedure or another. “Is everything all right?”
“Damned if I know. I’ve been banned from his room.”
“Why?”
“You know what? I’m just going to let him explain it to you.” Sean stood, stretching out his arms and rolling his neck to loosen it. “He’s all bent out of shape over something I said. I’m sure you’ll be able to smooth it over. I’m not really in the mood to stand here talking about it after having slept in this friggin’ chair all night.”
“Sean,” she said warily. “What, exactly, did you say?”
“Nothing!” He shrugged, his arms held out to the sides, palms up. “All I said was that I knew you’d be good for him, and he went ballistic.” Sean grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled it on, leaning over to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good luck with that,” he said, nodding in the direction of Mac’s room.
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