“Yes, Carrie, I brought them here,” he said, his voice tired. “They go where I go. And, as you obviously know, where you go, too.”
I turned my head, not wanting to do this right now. Not able to do it. “Do we know where to go, Larry?”
“They said the third floor.” He pointed at the elevator. “So I’m guessing we start there.”
We walked to it in silence, holding hands still. By the time the elevator arrived, and we rode it to the third floor, I wasn’t sure my legs would work anymore. But somehow, when the doors opened, I walked out. And then I took the steps that led us to the receptionist, who wore a scrub top with cartoon turkeys on it.
“Can I help you?” she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.
Larry stepped forward and rested his hand on the desk. It looked casual enough, but I knew he rested on it for support. “Y-Yes, we’re here for Sergeant Griffin Coram. We don’t know if he’s…”
When he didn’t finish, instead covering his mouth and closing his eyes, I stepped forward and I squeezed his hand tighter. “If he’s still alive, he means.”
God, even saying that hurt.
The nurse’s brown eyes flashed with pity, and she looked at her computer. “Go have a seat, and someone will be with you.”
“Can you tell us anything?” Larry asked, his face pale. “Anything at all?”
She hesitated. “It’s not my place to do so, sir. There’s protocol and rules…”
“P-Please?” I added, catching her gaze. “Even something tiny.”
She sighed. “He’s here. That’s really all I know. I don’t know where or how he’s doing. I don’t even know if he’s…living. I just see his name in the system—and that’s all I can tell you.”
Tears fell down my cheeks and I nodded, biting down on my lower lip. “Th-Thank you,” I managed to say before I led Larry to his seat.
Dad followed, his fists tight at his sides. “That’s bull. They can’t tell you anything?”
“It’s the way the military works,” Larry said, collapsing in the plastic chair. “It’s always been this way.”
“Someone ought to fix that,” Dad grumbled.
Larry and I both gave Dad a pointed stare, and then we all fell silent again. We sat there for what had to have been two hours before we saw anyone. A nurse in pink scrubs came up to us—her eyes empty and her face carefully neutral. “Sir? I can take you to your son now. The rest of your party will have to wait out here.”
I stood up, almost falling over in my haste. “Can’t I come, too?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Please?”
“Family only, ma’am,” the nurse said, her eyes showing me she didn’t want to refuse me. “I’m sorry.”
I bit back a sob and covered my mouth. I didn’t want to stay out here. I wanted to be with him. With Finn. “Okay. I’ll wait here.”
“You’ll let her go back,” Dad said, his voice clear and strong. “I’m Senator Wallington from the United States Senate, and that boy back there is one of mine. I’ll gladly follow your rules and wait, but you’ll let her go back.”
I looked at him in surprise, tears still blinding my vision. “D-Dad?”
“Sir…I can’t.”
Larry rested a hand on her arm. “He’d want her back there. Whether he’s alive or not…he’d want her there.” He paused. “Please.”
She hesitated, still gazing at my father, who stared her down until she finally nodded. “All right. She can come, but not for too long.”
Not for too long? Did that mean he was alive? I was trying to dissect everything she said and it was driving me insane. When would they tell us something?
I looked at Dad, but he didn’t look at me. Instead, he headed for the elevator without a word. Larry tugged me into the back room, and then we were entering a room with beeping noises and a lot of bright lights and…oh my God.
He was there. Finn was there, but he didn’t look like Finn at all.
His head had white gauze wrapped all around it, and he had scratches all over his face, a black eye, and a bloody lip. It looked as if they’d shaved all his hair off, too. All I saw was skin, scars and stitches. There were stitches over his forehead that ran long and deep, extending underneath the bandage around his head. And he looked so pale. Almost as if…
As if he wasn’t alive.
But the machine was beeping steadily. He had a heartbeat. He was alive.
I kept echoing that in my head.
I took a step closer, my own heart squeezing so tight that it hurt to move, let alone breathe. His eyes were closed, but his lips moved restlessly, as if he was having a bad dream or talking in his sleep. They were all scabbed up and dried out, and he looked as if he hadn’t had a drink in days. His left arm was in a cast from the elbow down, and then a sling, too, as if it needed all the support it could get. His legs were covered with a blanket, but I didn’t think he had any casts on underneath.
“Oh my God,” I said, taking another step closer. “Finn.”
Larry cried out and rushed to Finn’s side, and I watched as if I was out of my body. Unable to move or talk or do anything besides stare. I wanted to feel relieved that he was alive, but how could I feel anything resembling relief when he was in a bed—bloody and bruised and hurt?
The arm that wasn’t in a sling rested at his side, but he had his hand fisted tight. As I watched, he loosened the fist, then tightened it again. He was holding something. I leaned closer, squinting. It took me maybe three seconds to recognize it. It was tattered, but I’d know it anywhere. It was the picture he’d taken of me outside his apartment. I hadn’t even known he printed it out.
My gaze flew to his face, but his eyes were still closed. “I’m here, love,” I whispered, even though he probably couldn’t hear me. I stood there, not sure where to touch him…if at all. It didn’t look safe to touch him anywhere. “I’m with you.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Larry asked, his eyes on Finn. “Will he recover?”
“He’s been confused and in pain,” the doctor said. He walked to Finn’s side and checked his vitals. “We’ve been keeping him dosed with morphine, and he’s been pretty out of it because of that, so it’s hard to tell what kind of effects the explosion might have had on his brain. We did an MRI, but we’re still waiting on the results from that. With crude IEDs, you never know.”
Larry covered his mouth. “What got broken?”
“He was lucky,” the doctor said. “It was just his arm. Lots of bruises and stitches all over his body. There will be scarring on his face and his arm. And he got a concussion, as I said. We won’t know the long-term effects until he wakes up. When his arm broke, the fibula came through the skin, so it was touch and go for a while. He lost too much blood before they could get him here, so he’s weak. But he really lucked out.”
I walked toward Finn slowly, my eyes on his cast. That was lucky? How could that be considered lucky?
“The rest of his unit died,” the doctor said, watching me closely. “That’s how he’s lucky.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d said that out loud. I reached Finn’s side, the one without the broken arm, and I slowly closed my fingers over his hand. I made sure not to crumble the picture, even if it was almost unrecognizable already. Even though he didn’t so much as blink or wiggle his fingers, I swear…
I swear he knew I was there, and that was enough for me.
I kept seeing it over and over and fucking over again. The bright flashes as the IED went off. The deafening boom where I heard nothing at all, followed by me wishing I still heard nothing at all. The screams. The blood. The dead men…
Then there was my superior’s leg getting blown clear off his fucking body, and then blood spurting everywhere, even in my face and burning my eyes. I swear I could still smell it. Taste it. I’d
never forget that hellish night.
I’d tried my best to slow down the bleeding, even as it stopped squirting and just started to trickle slowly, I didn’t let go. Even as his face went lax and cold, losing all traces of life. Everyone around us went into panic mode, shooting at anything that moved. I didn’t let go until they dragged me away kicking and screaming.
And the pain…
God, it wouldn’t fucking leave me alone.
I’d been fully conscious when my arm snapped in half and I flew from the Humvee, and I’d been so sure this was it. That I was a fucking goner. And in a weird, twisted way, I kind of wished I had died. At least then, I wouldn’t be living through an endless replay of the attack in my mind.
I was fairly certain they had me doped up on some strong pain meds, so I didn’t feel the pain. But yet…I did. Maybe I was dying. Or maybe I was already dead.
All I knew was that I was in hell.
I felt someone poking at my head, and a masculine voice talking about brain damage and possible long-term repercussions. I wanted to shove him off me and tell him to leave me the fuck alone so I could die in peace. I wanted to shout at the world, demanding they shut the fuck up. But then…
Ah, then I heard her.
I felt her soft hand touch mine, immediately calming me, and I tried to open my eyes. Tried to see if I was really dead, or if I was alive with Carrie at my side. If Carrie was here, I was alive. It felt unfair, almost. I knew no one else had made it out alive. Only me. I should have died. I really should have fucking died.
“Finn? Can you hear me?” Carrie’s voice asked, the hand on mine tightening. “I love you. I love you so much. You’ve got to wake up for me. Open those blue eyes.”
Either I was alive, or I was right and I was burning in hell, because I swear that was actually Carrie. I tried to open my mouth to ask her if she was real, but only a squeak came out. A small, pathetic sound.
“Oh my God, he’s waking up,” Carrie called out, holding on to me with both hands. Her grip on me hurt. That’s how fucked up I was, but I didn’t care. “Doctor Sloane, he’s waking up.”
I felt a man’s hands probing me, then heard, “Be prepared for the worst. He might not remember things. Might not remember you two at all.”
The fuck I didn’t remember her. She was my Carrie. I managed to make my fingers move, and she cried out. “Larry, he’s moving.”
My father was here? But where was here?
“Son, I’m here with you.” What I assumed to be Dad’s hand fell on my arm, gentle and yet rough at the same time. He sounded fucking exhausted, and he sniffed loudly. “We’re both here.”
I managed to crack my eyelids open, but the bright lights shining down on me hurt, sending shards of pain through my brain. I slammed them shut again, then opened them more slowly. I blinked against the bright light and managed to turn my head just enough to see who stood by me.
Jesus Christ, I hadn’t died. Carrie was here with my father.
She wore a short purple-ish dress, a pair of ripped tights, and her hair was falling all around her face. Her makeup was smeared across her cheekbones, and she had the hugest bags under her eyes I’d ever seen …but she was my very own angel.
“C-Carrie?” I managed to croak.
She burst into tears and nodded, smiling at me. Fuck, she looked perfect. “Yes, it’s me,” she said. “I’m here.”
Dad gripped my arm and kissed the left side of my forehead. “You scared us, son.”
I’d scared them? How had they even known about it? I had so many questions to ask, but I didn’t want to. Not now. All that mattered was they were here. And I was alive.
Fucking alive. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that yet.
Carrie kissed my hand, her hot tears hitting my skin. She blinked at me, a soft smile still on her lips. I knew she was putting on a show for me, trying to be brave and all that shit. And I loved her so much for it.
“I know you feel horrible right now, but I’ve never been happier to see those blue eyes,” she said, kissing my hand again.
“You…” I took a deep breath. It hurt to fucking talk, but I had to say something to let them know I was still here, under all the scrapes and bandages. “Look like hell.”
She blinked at me, then a surprised laugh escaped her. Dad chuckled, too, and I eased my head back on the pillow, closing my eyes. That’s what I’d needed. Right there. I needed them to take a break from crying or worrying about me.
And it’s what they needed, too, even if they didn’t know it.
“I’m sure we do,” she said, her voice still light.
“It’s been a rough night, son,” Dad said. “Not anything like yours…”
“I’m feeling pretty good right now,” I said, trying to make light of the fact that I felt like I was dying slowly. “I’m h-h...”
My voice broke and I swallowed hard. I kept picturing the life leaving Dotter’s eyes as I clung to his bloody stump of a leg. Jesus Christ. I’d never forget it.
The doctor cleared his throat. “I think we should let him rest now. I’m going to get him another dose of morphine. You’ll have to say your goodbyes till tomorrow.”
I tightened my fingers on Carrie. I’d just found her again. I didn’t want her to leave, but the nurse pushed a button on my IV station, and the world spun in front of me, taking away my vision and even my concentration. “C-Carrie?”
“I’m still here,” she whispered.
“Tell me something before they dope me up again,” I whispered, urging her closer. “Before I’m g-gone.”
I felt her move closer to me. “Yeah?”
“Is the sun shining?”
Her tears hit my arm, rolling off onto my hospital bed. “It is. And it won’t stop. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”
I nodded and drifted off, the nightmare starting all over again. I could still smell the flesh burning, and I could hear the cries of the dying men all around me, but I knew I wasn’t there anymore. I was home. And Carrie was here, too.
I’d be all right.
What might have been minutes or hours later, I opened my eyes again, blinking into the empty hospital room. I heard someone move closer and slowly turned my head, hoping to see Carrie. Instead, I saw her father. Senator Wallington.
For a second I thought I was hallucinating, so I blinked again. He was still standing there, watching me with those intense blue eyes. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. I was too damn high to make a fucking sound.
When he saw my eyes on him, he took a step closer and rested his hand on my bedrail. “I know you probably won’t remember this, but you’re a hero, son.”
I blinked. Yeah, I was totally fucking high right now.
He sighed. “I know you love my girl, Griffin. And I know she loves you, too.” He looked down at me. “I get why you fell for her. Who wouldn’t? It doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, though. Or that I’ll accept it.”
I wanted to reply so fucking bad, but nothing came out.
I swallowed and tried to open my mouth to talk, but the drugs were still dragging me down. All that came out was a moan sounding like, “Sir?”
He flinched and reached out, pushing a button on my IV that controlled my morphine drip. “Get well, son. For both of our sakes.”
Within seconds, the screams of the dying men took over my head again…
And I fell back into my own version of hell.
Click here for other books by Jen McLaughlin
I have to first and foremost thank my family. My husband, Greg, for being so supportive every time I have to hunker down and get to work. And for my kids: Kaitlyn, Hunter, Gabriel, and Ameline…you’re the best things I ever did. Thanks for being you.
I also have to send my love to my parents, sist
ers, nephews and brother-in-law. Thanks for being my cheerleaders and also for pimping out my books occasionally. I know you always have my back, and that’s an amazing feeling.
And my amazing agent, Louise Fury from The Bent Agency. You’ve been my nonstop supporter, backbone, guide, and are just all-around awesome to be with. I don’t know what I’d do without you there, helping me make the right choice. You’re a rock star! Much love to you and your hubby, too.
To Team Fury, and everyone at The Bent Agency, I have to say it: I love you all. You’re a great team to be on, and I thank my lucky stars I get to be a part of the group every day!
And thanks are also due to my fabulous publicist at InkSlinger PR, Jessica Estep. You’re the best, and I couldn’t possibly handle all these blog tours and blitzes without you. And thank you so much for all your excitement and confidence in this book, and in me.
I couldn’t leave out my best buddies: Trent, Jill, and Tessa. You three are my rock, and I love how close we’ve gotten lately. NYC crew forever, man!
To my wonderful, fabulous, amazing critique partner, Caisey Quinn. You never let me down, and you’re always here for me, no matter what. I love you, girl!
Thanks to Casey, as well, for your expertise in all things Finn. You’re the best.
To my editor, Kristin; my copy editor, Hollie Westring; my formatter, Emily Tippet; and my cover artist, Sarah Hansen: thank you so much for giving me the best quality service out there! I love you all.
A huge, huge thanks goes out to all the Carrie and Finn fans out there. Thank you for joining me for the second part of their journey. I hope to see you for the final portion of the journey next year!
And to all my writer friends…you know who you are. There are way too many to name in this small section, and I don’t want to leave you out. You know I love you. You know how much you mean to me. And thank you for being you!
Out of Time (Out of Line #2) (Volume 2) Page 21