by Moira Byrne
"What happened?" Meghan asked with panic in her voice.
"Is he going to be okay?" I was so panicked I made her look calm.
Her father shook his head. "Maddox was shot. They managed to remove the bullet. They just moved him up to his room and we’re waiting for him to wake up."
"He's already had surgery?" Meghan asked as she glared at her parents. "When did it happen?"
They exchanged a look, then her mother replied, "Not that long ago. We called you the moment he was in recovery." "Not that long?" she seethed openly. "He had surgery, Mother. Surgery! He was shot! Why didn't you call me?"
Joseph rubbed Meghan’s shoulders. She leaned into him, but her glare was still firmly in place.
"Honey, you have to know we didn't want to worry you," her father said. "There was nothing you could do but wait in some uncomfortable chair anyway."
I saw Meghan’s eyes narrow and knew she wasn't done. Being this angry couldn’t be good for the kiddo, so I decided to jump in. "When can we go see him?" I asked.
"Now," her father replied. I rushed ahead planning to get the door for Meghan, but I barreled straight through. I hadn't even realized how badly I needed to see him. I froze the moment I was inside. He was pale and motionless. A tube ran from his arm to a bag on a stand.
"Thanks for the help . . ." Meghan's sarcasm faded away when she stepped in behind me.
Everyone stayed silent as we gathered around his bedside.
I heard his family talk softly, but didn’t listen to what they said. I couldn’t stand to see him like this. If I was distracted earlier today, there had to be another word invented to describe the way I felt when faced with this image. Before I knew it, I was back in the hallway. I sat in one of those hard chairs as a wave of nausea crashed over me. I wrapped my hands around my stomach and bent over.
Time passed. He didn’t wake. The nurses came in and checked on him. I could tell from their worried expressions as they left his room something wasn’t right. Knowing that he was just beyond the doors to my side made me want to burst through them, but I forced myself to sit there, no matter how much it felt like it was physically hurting me. I would fall apart if I had to stand there and just . . . look at him. I couldn't do it.
"Ms. Travis?"
I looked up when I heard the concerned voice of a doctor beside me. He was speaking to a young woman who had arrived only moments ago.
"I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. My sister and I are from out of town . . . I had trouble finding my way here." She took a deep breath. "Th-They told me my sister was here, but they won't give me a room number . . ."
The doctor walked over and took a seat beside her, his movements heavy and solemn.
"They told you about the accident?"
"Yeah. I told her that little car was a death trap. But she insisted on driving it here. I never actually thought . . ."
"I'm sorry, but she was killed on impact."
My heart went out to her as she sobbed.
"Come," the doctor said softly, "we have a grief counselor on staff."
The young woman continued to sob as the doctor led her away. I averted my eyes, not wanting to stare. My already tender heart ached for her, so much so that it felt like my chest was constricted, tight and suffocating.
The door to Maddox's room suddenly opened. His parents, Meghan, and Joseph came out. I was worried I'd be getting bad news of my own, but then Maddox's mother smiled weakly.
"We're so happy you're here, Rose," his mother said to me as she reached to take my hand in hers. "Are you holding up okay?"
I tore my eyes away from the door. I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and managed a weak smile. "I should be the one asking you that."
Her eyes swept upwards to her husband, then over to Meghan. They all shared a look.
"Go talk to him, Rose; we'll wait out here," Meghan said.
I started to protest, but they all shook their heads. I had no idea what was going on with them right now. It was bizarre. Why would they send me in there alone? They were his family. I saw the worry and kindness in their eyes. I swallowed my protest and nodded. Maybe this was what they needed from me. Someone to stand watch while they took a break. I would have to do it. For them, and for Maddox.
"Okay," I said calmly. "I'll go talk to him."
The moment I stepped inside the clean white room, my dried tears started to flow again. I rushed over to Maddox's bedside. I touched his hand, then his chest, then cupped his cheek. He looked terrible. I couldn't believe someone shot him. That didn't happen in Fayoak, it just didn't.
"Maddox," I said between quiet sobs, "please, wake up."
But there was no response. He continued to lie there, entirely cut off from the outside world. So, I started doing what I knew best. I rambled.
I told him about my customers today, and how I now was placing orders before the customers even arrived. It was nothing he hadn't heard before, but hearing about my clairvoyant screw-ups never failed to make him laugh.
"Weird, isn’t it?" I said. "I can't tell if I'm getting better or worse at this whole being able to see the future thing."
Nothing. His eyelids didn't so much as twitch in response. I moved my hand from his cheek and took a seat at his bedside, then wrapped both of my hands around his.
"What about Meghan? She'll be having her baby soon," I continued. "You'll feel like a real jerk if you miss out on that, won't you? You won’t be able to greet the new member of the family if you don’t wake up."
"Oh! You're supposed to find your mate soon," I suddenly said, then wrinkled my nose and frowned. "Or maybe you already have. I'm not really sure. But that's exciting, isn't it?" My voice trembled as I fought back my tears.
I certainly didn't think so, but I would do anything at this point for him to wake up. I would go find her myself if it meant Maddox would wake up. Tears trickled down my cheeks at the thought, but it was true.
"Oh my God," I heard from the doorway. "You're his mate, you scatterbrained dork."
I looked over my shoulder in shock as I swallowed my tears. "Meghan? What're you talking about?"
I wasn't his mate. That was impossible. I wasn't a shifter. Plus, if I was his mate, I would probably know. I could see the freaking future. Sometimes. Looking back, I had felt that he was going to find his mate for quite some time now. Even more so recently. I figured it never happened because my clairvoyance was wonky sometimes, or the future simply changed before what I saw came to be. I still thought that was a possibility, yet Meghan seemed so sure of herself.
"I can't deal with you two thinking you're being so sneaky anymore." Meghan sighed, her hand still on the open door. "It was cute at first, but I'm so over it. Talk to him like his damn mate, then maybe he'll wake up, got it?"
Despite my confusion, I nodded numbly as she walked back into the hallway. I turned my attention to Maddox. I wasn't his mate. There was no way. But it wouldn't hurt to try. I would deal with the shock of this later. I had to focus on him now. I had to get him to wake up.
"Maddox," I began, a hint of awkwardness in my voice, "I need you. I can't imagine life without you. You remember how you told me that shifters go deep into mourning when their mates die? I don't think I could ever recover if I lost you."
I lifted one of my hands from his to brush a hair away from his forehead. He was heart-achingly still. "If I lost you, Maddox, what I would feel wouldn't be mourning, it would be like a small death inside of me."
Although it was daunting at first, the words came easier and easier as I went on, to the point where I almost believed Meghan. I actually thought I could be his mate, maybe a clairvoyant could be the mate of a shifter. I came to believe that anything was possible during those moments while I tried to coax him from his catatonic slumber.
But he didn’t respond. No matter how much I spoke about how much I loved him, how much I needed him. I talked about what our future might look like. How many kids we should have. Where we would live. He still didn’t
wake up. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. I wasn't his mate, but I still tried to be. Eventually, my words turned to murmurs and I rested my head on the side of his bed. I drifted off into a fitful sleep, still holding his hand in mine.
14
Maddox
I slowly opened my eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. The surface I was on was soft, and I rubbed my hand on what felt like a blanket. So I must be on a bed. I spent a lot of time in various hotels, but I couldn't place this one. I didn't even remember checking in. I pondered that oddity.
Where was I? A part of me knew I should be freaked out. The last thing I remembered was letting my panther take over. My human mind went to sleep and I ran. So how did I end up here, and why wasn’t I in my panther form anymore? Why couldn't I remember? Nothing made sense. I felt like my head was wrapped in cotton. Like all of me was wrapped in cotton. And nothing could penetrate the soft barrier.
I took a deep breath and suddenly the world came alive. Sounds and scents swamped me. I heard people talking softly nearby—muffled, as if they were on the other side of a closed door. Soft beeps nearby. Someone was breathing softly next to me, as if they were asleep.
The scents were odd: antiseptic, blood, worry, strangers, family, and my mate. None of it made sense. Why was I so calm? I should be frantic. I was in an unknown situation surrounded by strangers. But I felt like I was floating in a pool of tranquility. The water gently lapped at me.
I was sinking back into those serene waters when a thought occurred to me. I had smelled my mate. How could I? Why would I think my mate was here? Red was dead. I waited for despair to crash down on me, but the fog that surrounded me kept everything away. I was so detached, almost as if I was outside watching this happen to someone else. I flexed my hand and felt something odd, like I had a stick under my skin. I glanced down and saw a tube taped to my arm. I followed the tube up to a plastic bag on a stand.
A little noise drew my attention to the chair next to my bed. I turned my head and saw Red slumped over in the chair, her arm folded under her head as it rested on the bed by my knee. Her other hand held mine, the one that didn’t have the tube attached to it.
I blinked in confusion. How was Red here? Was I dead? How did I die? If I was dead, why was I in a hospital? Dead people didn’t go to the hospital, they went to the morgue. If this was the afterlife, why was Red drooling? Before I could focus my thoughts, the fog moved forward and swallowed me into sleep.
I opened my eyes and my head felt a bit clearer, as if the cotton had been removed. Not all of it, but some of it at least. My eyes immediately focused on the chair by my bed, and disappointment crashed into me when I saw it was empty. Had I imagined her? Was Red really gone? I swallowed down my emotions. I needed to figure out where I was, what was going on, and how to get out of here.
I studied the monitor next to me. I didn’t want an alarm to sound when I removed the devices attached to my body. I had to figure out how to turn it off. I turned my attention to the tube sticking into my body. I’d have to remove that, too. I looked at the bag feeding the tube. What was in that? Was that why I felt fuzzy?
I couldn't focus for long. My thoughts bounced all over the place. I was having trouble doing something, but what? I frowned. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. I needed to do something. I couldn't remember anymore.
I looked over as the door to the room opened. Red stepped in holding a bottle of water. Her eyes grew wide as they met mine. The drink hit the floor with a loud crack of plastic.
"Red," I whispered. Was this a delusion? A hallucination? It felt real. Almost. Damn, those were good drugs.
Before I could say anything else, she was at my side and tears ran down her face. Then she was in my arms, her face buried in my right shoulder. I rubbed her back as her tears soaked into my skin. There was no way this was a product of my imagination. She was warm and real. I lifted my other arm and felt a twinge in my left shoulder, but that didn’t stop me from holding her.
"Red, baby, don’t cry," I said. Her tears tore right through me. "Shh, tell me what’s wrong. Don’t cry, please, don’t cry."
"Maddox," she sobbed.
"I’m here." Suddenly it hit me. Red was alive. She was in my arms. My eyes grew wet and I blinked rapidly. I didn’t know who the poor soul was that the EMTs had been talking about, but it wasn’t her. It wasn’t my Red. The relief made me light-headed for a minute, then I crushed Red to me.
"Maddox, no!" she cried, pulling back.
I didn’t want to hurt her, so I let go, confused. Why did she pull away?
"Red, what?" I asked, my brain was so fuzzy.
"Your shoulder," she said, looking at said body part. I followed her gaze to my left shoulder, but all I saw was the hospital gown. It occurred to me that the gown was a little lumpy. I reached over with my right hand to feel it, but Red grabbed my hand before I could touch my shoulder.
I looked back at her and smiled. I didn’t care what happened to my shoulder. My Red was here. I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, then let go, her look uncertain. I had the feeling she was going to step away. Before she could, I sat up and grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in for a kiss.
She froze for a moment, then kissed me back passionately. Her hands came up and one went to the back of my head, the other touched my left arm.
As soon as her hand touched my arm, she stiffened up and pulled back. I moved to follow but she held onto my arm to keep me in place.
"Maddox," she said, then paused to take a deep breath. "Maddox, you’re drugged. You got out of surgery a couple hours ago. You can’t . . . " I thought she was trying to sound firm, but she sounded breathless to me.
Then I processed what she said. Oh, I was drugged. I looked over at the clear bag again. Right. That explained a few things. I thought about it for a moment and decided I didn’t care. I was fine.
I grinned and reached out to catch Red. "C’mere."
She stumbled back out of my reach. "No, Maddox. You aren’t thinking straight."
There was something in her eyes I couldn't puzzle out. It was like sadness and worry all bundled into one. Grief, maybe. There was no need for grieving. She wasn’t dead. We were together.
She took another step back and I felt panic rise within me. She couldn't leave. Not now.
"Don’t go," I said, alarm in my voice. I couldn’t bear to have her out of my sight. What if I was wrong and this wasn't actually real and she never came back? "They wouldn’t let me see you in the morgue," I said sadly. "Don’t go now."
Her brow wrinkled. "In the morgue? I wasn’t in the morgue, Maddox. What are you talking about?"
I nodded, suddenly pleased. "Only dead people are in the morgue." I smiled, overwhelmed by happiness. "Which means you aren’t dead. Because you're here."
She looked at me as if I was crazy. "Maddox, what are you talking about? Of course I’m not dead."
"No, but the girl in the car is," I explained.
She paused for a moment, as if deep in thought, then she tilted her head to the side with a frown. "You thought that was me?"
"It wasn’t you. You weren’t smashed by the truck. Or was it a semi?"
She took a deep breath and looked to the ceiling, as if asking for patience. I followed her gaze, but didn’t see anything of interest, and looked back at her. She studied me and I wondered if I had something odd on my face. I raised my hand and the thing in my wrist poked me again. I wanted it out, but when I moved my other hand to make that happen, Red stepped forward and grabbed it.
"No, Maddox. You have to leave that in." She had the patient tone of a parent speaking to a cranky toddler.
"How did you know I wanted it out?" I asked in wonder. Could she read minds now, too? I wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. I turned my attention to her and studied her with interest.
A small smile curved her mouth. "I can see you, silly. Wow, you're drugged out of your mind, aren't you?"
I shook my head. "No, I d
on’t think so. Everything is fuzzy, though."
She nodded. "Yeah, no, you’re definitely stoned."
"Red," I said, focused on her as worry clawed at me, "I won’t let you go."
She laughed, but her eyes looked wary. "That'll be awkward when I have to go pee. Are you sure that's what you want?"
I shook my head. It was important she understood what I meant. "No, Red. You’re mine. I’m keeping you."
She snorted, then smiled down at me indulgently. "Like a lost puppy?"
I shook my head. Why didn’t she understand? "Red, Alex can’t have you. I won’t let him."
"Uhh, since when was Alex trying to have me?" She glanced over at the wall and back to me, as if she was hiding something. But the thought was gone when her gaze met mine again.
"Don’t care." I shook my head again as I struggled to keep my thoughts together. "Keeping."
"Maddox," she said as she drew out my name like my mother did when I’d done something bad as a child. "Now . . . isn't the time for this."
Even with my drug-addled mind, I picked up on the hesitation in her voice. I was afraid I was too late. I would make a good mate for her. I knew it. I loved her and was going to keep her. She had to understand. "Give us a chance, Red. Let me prove it to you."
"Prove what, Maddox? I can't compete with destiny." Sadness filled her eyes, but she blinked and it was gone. "I mean, what will happen when your mate shows up?"
Her words were light but they didn’t match the expression in her eyes. I’d seen the sadness there. She shouldn't be sad. I missed something, but couldn’t figure out what. I shook my head.
She closed her eyes, raised her eyebrows, and tilted her head, an expression I’d seen on women’s faces time and time again. Usually my mother and sister. Sometimes Red. My mother always said she was trying to find patience.
"Did it work?" I asked, intensely curious. Maybe I should try it.