Jared had trouble meeting Merc’s gaze in the rearview mirror, but he forced himself to do it. Regret flooded him when he saw the pitying look in his friend’s eyes. He clenched his jaw. “She’s a strong woman. She’s going to make it.”
Even if she never spoke to him again, he’d make sure she lived. He could live with regret. He’d done it his entire life.
But he couldn’t live without Sparrow.
*
“You’re going to have to set me up a permanent room if you keep bringing me new patients.” Dr. Hartsfield rose from inspecting Sparrow’s newly stitched gunshot wound. “She looks great. The bullet came out without any permanent damage to tissue. She should recover fully with lots of rest and care.
“What about when she wakes up? She saw a lot of death. Do you think she’ll be like Hoyt?” The words tasted like acid on his tongue, but he forced himself to ask. Sparrow needed him to be strong.
“I’ve seen men check out for less.” Doc shrugged, “Some come back, some don’t.”
“She’s scrappy. She’ll wake up just fine.” Squirrel sat in an old folding chair next to her bed, his gaze fixed on Sparrow.
Jared didn’t know if the old man was trying to convince them or himself.
“I’ll be back by to check on her and your brother again tomorrow. Notify me if there’s any change. But Jared, she’s been through a big trauma. It may take some time for her to recover.”
He’d put Sparrow in his own bed, unable to stand the thought of her being any farther away from him. Now he had her, a bit damaged on the outside, but still alive. He could only pray she wasn’t destroyed on the inside. Like his brother.
If only he’d kept a better eye on Hoyt. If only he’d believed Sparrow sooner. If only he could turn back time and rescue them. He’d never let either of them go.
“It ain’t your fault. That girl was destined for something big. You can’t stop fate.” Squirrel pulled a small flask from his pocket, took a swig and then offered some to Jared.
“No, thanks.” He didn’t deserve the least respite from his suffering.
Suddenly, Jared heard a crash and ran to Hoyt’s room, hot on Dr. Hartsfield’s heels. They both skidded to a stop in the doorway to his brother’s room, Jared nearly plowing her over. Hoyt was on the floor on his hands and knees, a broken glass of water splattered out before him. He was pale and gasping for breath, but he was awake.
After he and Doc helped Hoyt back onto the bed, Jared grabbed his brother’s hand. “You scared the shit out of me, bro. Don’t ever do that again.”
Hoyt offered up a weak smile “Swear. Won’t ever do it again.” He coughed and immediately groaned.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake, the doctor said. “ I need you to answer a couple of quick questions. Where are you hurting?”
“My side hurts like a mother.”
“Anywhere else?” she asked.
“No, it’s all good.”
Jared smiled. The doctor smiled too. “Well, I think other than a few bruised ribs, you’ll survive.”
Jared met the doctor’s eyes. And the look he saw there soothed his soul. The IV bag was still attached to Hoyt’s arm, so Jared righted the knocked over stand. All the other lines going into him had been ripped out, but the doc said they weren’t needed anymore. Jared leaned over and touched his head to Hoyt’s. “I’m glad you’re back.”
Hoyt squeezed his hand. “Me, too, bro.”
Hoyt closed his eyes and fell asleep. Dr. Hartsfield touched Jared’s arm and indicated for him to follow her out into the hall. “He’s okay. He’s just resting. It’s going to take him a long time to get his strength back up, and he may have to do some physical therapy, but I don’t see any reason why he can’t get back to a hundred percent physically.”
Jared’s heart skidded and jumped at her words. His entire focus for the past few weeks had been on life and death. Now he could finally focus on making sure his brother found his way out of the quagmire of nightmares—and on making sure Sparrow made a full recovery.
That night, he slept in bed with Sparrow with the door open, listening for any sounds from Hoyt’s room. Dr. Hartsfield had injected her with painkillers before leaving. Jared fell asleep praying she’d forgive him when she awoke.
33
Jared was ripped from his slumber by a loud scream. Sparrow thrashed and kicked and screamed louder. He barely restrained himself from throwing his body over hers. Instead, he grabbed her arms to hold her down, but she didn’t stop thrashing her head from side to side, mumbling and sobbing.
“Sparrow. Wake up, it’s me, Jared. You were having a bad dream, honey.” Her breathing hitched, but she stopped screaming. Her eyes fluttered open; for a split second her gaze was blank, but then awareness took over.
Her breathing hitched, and then she sucked in a broken breath and emitted a low keening wail that broke on a sob. The sobs wracked her body, ripping him in two. His need to protect and soothe her was his only conscious thought as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him, careful not to put pressure on her injury, and rubbed soothing circles on her back.
“I…I killed him.” She managed between crying.
“You were trying to protect your home.” Jared wanted to wrap her in a cocoon and take away every last drop of her pain. His first kill had given him nightmares, and he was a soldier.
“Oh God, I can’t believe he…”
“Hush now. It’s over. You’re safe.”
“I should have known. Should have—should have done something sooner.”
Jared felt nothing but anguish. “No. There was no way for you to know. You’re not evil like them. I know that.” Tears gathered in Jared’s eyes and he let them fall, unashamed. “It’s my fault. If only I’d listened to you sooner, you would never have gone back. I’m so sorry.”
She continued crying and Jared didn’t know what else to say. So he simply held her until her crying softened to hiccups and then the hiccups faded into the soft even breathing of sleep. Jared watched the sun rise through the window before sleep claimed him.
*
The next few days faded together for Sparrow. She spent most of her time in bed. She just wanted to lock the rest of the world out. Her emotions were raw and ripped wide open. Part of her was still very angry with Jared. Another part longed for his comfort.
They compromised. He slept with her every night, holding her tight, but it didn’t go further than that. And during the day, he came to check on her, but he also gave her plenty of time by herself.
Squirrel would often come sit with her. They would sit together and play checkers or just talk. It was during one of these visits that she was finally forced to talk about it.
“You know he’s hurting too.” Squirrel leaned across the table and took a sip of the water. Sparrow jumped his red marker. They were playing checkers again, and it was a close game. “I’ve never seen a man so tortured over a girl before,” Squirrel added. “You must’ve done a real number on him.”
Sparrow leaned back in her chair and lifted an eyebrow. “Or maybe he’s the one who did a real number on me. He didn’t believe in me. He doesn’t trust me. What kind of relationship can be built on that foundation?”
Squirrel double jumped her two. “I talked to his brother. Jared has never been in a real relationship before. And never with a firecracker like you. The only thing he’s ever known is war. Combat. Fighting. Not exactly the kinda thing that makes a man trustin’.”
The words reached inside and touched a part of her. It made sense to her. “But I’m not his enemy.”
“No. You’re worse. You’re a girl.” Squirrel smiled and jumped another of her checkers.
“And what’s so wrong with being a girl?” She leaned forward, letting him know she was not okay with that statement.
Squirrel held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing ‘cept that boy ain’t got no idea how to handle a girl.”
Heat rose to her cheeks and suffused her entire body. Jared knew exact
ly how to handle a girl. He had handled her with expertise. And she’d lapped up every bit of it.
“All I’m saying is you should at least talk to the boy. He screwed up. He knows it. And I’m tired of watchin’ him mope around here like he’s out of whiskey.”
As if on cue, Jared called from the kitchen, “Supper’s about ready.”
Squirrel looked her up and down, sniffed, and said, “You need a bath.”
Sparrow tried to look affronted, but couldn’t quite pull it off. She hadn’t change clothes in two days. She knew she looked a mess and smelled like one too.
“Think on what I said.” Squirrel got to his feet, walked to the doorway, and shouted, “Better have me some potatoes. Don’t like all them green vegetables you keep cookin’.”
Sparrow got to her feet and turned to the dresser to grab a change of clothes. Hayden had brought over a whole bag of them for her to wear until she recovered enough to buy some of her own. She didn’t avoid her reflection in the mirror this time. The girl staring back at her looked older, harder, and about ten pounds underweight. Her hair was messy, her clothes ill fitting. Was this the girl she wanted to be for the rest of her life? A shadow of herself?
Maybe Squirrel was right. Maybe it was time to try trusting her heart again. Hopefully this time it wouldn’t almost kill her.
Sparrow went to bathroom and took a bath. She’d just finished towel drying her hair when she heard a soft knock at the bedroom door. “Come in.”
The door snaked open and Jared poked his head inside. “Listen, I know you don’t want to see me or be around me and I can’t blame you for that, but you have to eat.”
His words carried a firm command, yet there was still hesitance in his tone. Sparrow turned to face him, a slight smile on her face. He really was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.
As he eased his way into the bedroom, his gaze raked over her like hot coals, setting her skin on fire. “Sparrow, I…” He rubbed a hand through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I think you need to eat more. You’re losing too much weight. And if it takes me leaving to make you feel comfortable, I’ll do it.”
“Why would I want you to leave?
His dark gaze snapped to hers. “Because you hate me for what I did to you. I shouldn’t have left that morning without talking to you first. Without letting Merc know what was going on. I ignored my instincts until it was too late. It’s all my fault and I can never make it up to you. Never.”
She decided to have a little bit of mercy and took a stroll across the room. Sitting down on the bed, Sparrow curled a leg beneath her. She had on a low-cut top and fitted cotton pants. Hayden had called them yoga pants. Whatever that was. She knew she didn’t exactly look sexy with the black sling around her arm, but his eyes locked on her with banked heat.
Sparrow leaned over and picked at the bedspread, “So let me get this straight. You screwed up, and now you’re just fixin’ to give up?”
She watched as his jaw ticked and he slowly closed and reopened his glittering eyes. “Listen, I deserve that. I know you don’t want to be near me. I promise, as soon as I can, I’ll find somewhere else for you to live.”
“What if I’m comfortable right here?”
The dark circles beneath his eyes looked like small bruises. His cheeks had hollowed out too. She’d been so focused on her own misery she’d failed to notice his.
“Here?” His face was a mask of confusion. As if it didn’t even occur to him that she might be giving him a second chance. Hell, maybe he was afraid to let himself believe it.
Sparrow realized that she was going to have to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. She got to her feet, unfolding her body from the bed, and walked to him. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. “Yes, Jared. Here with you.”
He trembled as his hands wrapped around her waist. “With me? After what happened?”
“You made a mistake. I’m sure I’ll make mistakes too. And I think if you love someone you should fight for them. Not give up on them.”
Jared ducked his head and sucked in a shuddering breath, resting his head on hers, his lips inches away. A tremor passed down her body and chills raced across her flesh. Her heart rate accelerated from the slow, steady rhythm of a woman full of confidence to out of control.
“Sparrow, I love you. I don’t want you to leave. Will you please stay with me?”
She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. Part of that hollow burning in her chest eased just a little bit. “I love you too. And I’m not going anywhere.”
His lips close over hers, taking possession of her mouth, and she opened willingly to him. Heat coursed through her body. He slid to the bed, pulling her down with him, careful of her arm. But any pain she’d felt was forgotten as he slid between her thighs and worshipped her body. Sparrow slipped into a cloud of bliss from which she never wanted to return.
Epilogue
Hoyt leaned his head against the bedroom wall, the sounds of Jared and Sparrow making up was a soothing balm to the soul. They would be able to heal together. They would be able to move past what had happened. They would move on.
And he would be stuck here, trapped as a prisoner in his own body. A body that didn’t belong to him anymore. He turned away from the wall then, took a sip of his orange juice, and got up to shut his bedroom door. He sat down on the bed, fingers clenching the covers. Images of being trapped in that small room slashed at his mind and a cold sweat broke out across his body. His scars from all the cuts seemed to reopen and bleed. His throat closed off, and he hunched forward to suck in air that didn’t seem to exist. He put his hands on his knees, gasping at the sharp pain in his chest as his rib cage constricted around his lungs.
A part of him knew that he was having a panic attack. Hell, he probably had some form of PTSD after all that shit he’d survived. But that was the logical part. And right now the logical part of his brain only made up about zero point five percent.
Terror sent him to his knees and he crawled to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and collapsed half between the rooms, clutching at his chest and sucking in air. Slow. Count to ten. He repeated the mantra over and over.
Hoyt didn’t know how long he lay there, only that when he opened his eyes his fist was clenched on his chest; the other hand dug into the carpet. And when he lifted the fist, he realized it was clutched around a pill bottle. Oblivion. He quickly unscrewed the lid and poured out four pills, knowing one pain pill had no hope of touching his kind of agony.
Hoyt lay there until his body began to ease. He climbed to his window, threw it open, and fell across the bed. The pill bottle was tucked safely in his pocket. If he had to choose between feeling everything or nothing, right now it was no decision at all.
THE END
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Want to see what happens next in Mercy, MS? Keep scrolling to read an excerpt from David: Men of Mercy novella and Ravaged River, Hoyt and Hayden’s story.
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David: Men of Mercy Novella
“That’s it!” Lori grabbed the trash bags from the kitchen floor and strode outside. Crisp morning air bit her cheek. Her legs scissored down the drive. She plopped the trash behind her husband’s car. Three days. Three days he’d come home from work, walked straight to the dining room, and buried himself in case files.
Lori’s anger rose with the sun. No more bending over backward to make everyone happy. No more moping through their house, picking up after everyone. Today was a new day.
By the time she reentered the kitchen the automatic coffee maker had filled her cup. She mixed in vanilla creamer and sugar—her one lapse in food control for the day—and sipped. The deep, dark aroma of Arabian filled her mouth. This used to be her favorite time of day. She and David would sit together and sip coffee in the quiet. No kids. No housework. No distractions.
Pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs. Too heavy to be the kids. Her heart picked up. She hastily poured a cup for her husband and held it at the ready. Maybe if David stopped, even for a second, she’d warn him about the trash-trap behind his car. Maybe he would kiss her and tell her how much he loved her.
David rushed through the kitchen, ignoring the coffee. He brushed a faint kiss on her cheek. She caught the scent of his soap—fresh and masculine. She barely had time to tilt her head before he bolted for the door.
Lori turned and poured his coffee into the sink. Each drop seemed to burn straight through her veins. She watched the dark brew swirl down the drain, taking her heart with it. She had the fleeting notion to turn on the garbage disposal and grind it up to match the heart David had mangled.
She leaned against the counter and sipped from her steaming mug. In the distance, David’s engine whispered to life. She tensed even as a heady sense of justice filled her. She’d asked him to take the trash out every day this week. And each day he’d ignored her request.
His serviceable sedan was energy-saving quiet, but she knew the minute he hit the garbage. Energy-saving or not, squealing brakes sounded the same. Seconds later his car door slammed. Their entire town likely heard his curse.
Reckless River: Men of Mercy, Book 3 Page 24