The ground was unsteady beneath him and dizziness made it hard to focus. Montana’s voice sounded far away as she called his name.
He blinked several times, trying not to pass out. His lower body went numb, then the rest of him, and all he could feel was his heart pounding in his chest.
Montana’s face above him, her panicked look of terror was the only thing he saw. He reached out to touch her as the world faded in a hazy mist around him.
“Hey...what’s up, Danger?” he said before everything went black.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WAKING UP TO bright lights shining in his face was not a good sign. At least he wasn’t dead. He didn’t think the afterlife was this...noisy.
Voices. Mostly female. Mostly loud. All talking at once.
“Oh, my God, he’s awake.” His grandmother’s voice, then her face peering down at him. “What the hell were you thinking, young man? Jumping in front of a bullet.”
“That’s kinda my job, Gran,” he said, but there was no way she could have heard him. He could barely make out the words. His voice was hoarse, and his ears felt clogged.
“This is why we didn’t want you following in our footsteps,” Katherine said, stepping closer to the bed. She was still in pissed-off mode. His older sister cycled through emotions when she was scared. First, she pretended it was nothing—he must have been asleep for that reaction—then she was angry, which was the stage they were currently in, based on her tone. Eventually, she’d be upset. He wished he could go back to sleep for the third one. His sister was a hard-ass, and he liked her that way. The few times he’d seen her come apart had nearly destroyed him.
And if she was standing in his hospital room right now, his injuries must be serious. Katherine hated hospitals. She’d refused to visit their father in the hospital years before, until his final days when she’d needed to say goodbye to him.
His mother appeared next to them. “Don’t listen to them, Eddie. You did the right thing. What you were trained to do,” she said.
That made him instantly relax. Approval. Good. Finally. He’d only had to get shot to get it, but he’d focus on the positive. He remembered jumping, crashing to the sidewalk and feeling pain in his lower back—and Montana’s concerned look. He quickly scanned the room, but she wasn’t there now. “Is Montana okay?”
“Yes,” his mother said. “She’s in the waiting room. She’s been here the whole time.”
No doubt the hospital—most likely Erika—was bending the rules already, allowing his mother, grandmother and sister in the room all at once, but if he’d had a choice of whose face he wanted to wake up and see, it would have been Montana’s. In his deep sleep, he’d dreamt about her...
“The shooter?”
“He got away. Wild River dispatch is still looking for possible suspects, and they’re asking for witnesses to come forward. So far no one has. Neither Montana nor the man she was with saw the perpetrator.” His mother leaned closer. “Once you’re feeling a little better, I’ll get them to come in and get your statement.”
Not wasting time was important, and the longer the delay before he recounted the events and gave a full description, the less credible his statement would be. The mind forgot or refabricated details the longer they waited.
“What are my injuries?” he asked.
His grandmother looked at his mother. She looked at Katherine. Katherine left the room.
Shit.
“Come on... Someone tell me what’s going on.”
Erika entered the room before anyone could find the words, and Eddie could see his sister standing outside the door.
Fantastic. She’d brought the doctor in. Not a good sign. Erika Sheraton was an amazing surgeon and someone Eddie liked to think of as a friend, but while she’d come a long way in her bedside manner since working at Alaska General, she was still able to deliver bad news to patients without batting an eyelash, and right now he felt as though he could use a sugarcoated version of things.
“Hi, Eddie,” Erika said, checking his vitals on the machine next to him. “How’re you feeling?”
“I don’t feel anything.” Which was terrifying. At least with pain, he could deal with it. Not knowing why he was numb was daunting.
“We will try to keep it that way for a little while longer to make sure you can get some rest.”
“How long have I been here?” Suddenly he realized it felt like days.
“Two days.”
It was a worse injury than he thought.
“We did surgery last night. The good news is I was able to remove the bullet. It remained mostly intact, so there aren’t any fragments that we are worried about traveling through the bloodstream. The bullet’s been handed over to forensics.”
So much for hoping it was a flesh wound.
“The bad news is that it hit your spine,” Erika said. “The damage was in the lower sacral vertebrae. S4 and S5 to be exact.”
He had no idea what that meant.
“As you most likely know, the spinal cord acts like the relay center for the brain, and with these types of injuries, it’s common to see a disruption in the signals. Damage to the sacral vertebrae can result in loss of function in both hips and legs. Mobility issues and loss of feeling are common issues,” she said.
“Am I paralyzed?” How did his voice sound so calm as he asked the most terrifying question ever? The pain meds must also be impacting his emotions.
The tear sliding down his grandmother’s cheek, or the way his sister kept her eyes downcast, refusing to look at him from the doorway, or the way his mother’s face looked anguished should have had his pulse bursting through his veins, but there was no fear at all. Just an unsettling calm that he knew would eventually wear off.
“We don’t know yet.” Blunt, straightforward. Normally, he liked that about Erika. Not today.
“Why not?”
“We need the swelling to go down before X-rays can assess the extent of the damage. We did everything we could for now. We have you on a high dose of methylprednisolone—a steroid to reduce swelling, with the aim of avoiding any secondary damage to the injury site.”
Sounded like quite a lot of damage already.
“You are also on a high dose of morphine, an anti-inflammatory and a strong antibiotic to ward off any chance of infection from surgery. We will continue those for a few days as well.”
So many drugs. He barely took pain medication for headaches. No wonder he couldn’t feel anything. “So, what now?”
“We just need to wait a few days and hope for the best,” Erika said, her voice softening. “I’m sorry I don’t have better news. You saved Montana’s life. If the bullet had hit her, it would have most definitely hit an internal organ. You truly are a hero.”
He’d always expected those words to mean more. As a kid, he dreamed of being a superhero, saving the planet from aliens or monsters. Then, as an adult, he’d wanted to protect people from real dangers. Now he had, and it seemed insanely anticlimactic.
Just him lying in a hospital bed with no way of knowing whether or not he’d walk out of there on his own.
He needed more. Something to hope for, at least. “Your best guess,” he asked Erika. “What are the chances I’m...okay?” He couldn’t ask if he’d walk again.
Erika shook her head. “You’re alive, and honestly, for a little while last night, I wasn’t sure even that would be possible. Surgery was touch and go. Your blood pressure and heart rate kept spiking.”
Jesus. Sugarcoat something, Erika!
Her expression softened as though sensing she’d provided too much detail. “We still have you. That’s what matters right now. We will figure out next steps as we gain more clarity regarding the extent of the damage.”
Eddie released a deep breath. He should thank her for saving his life and he would...eventually. Right now, he
just closed his eyes and hoped that he was still asleep and that the next time he woke up, there would be a better prognosis.
His life may not have ended on the sidewalk two days ago, but there was a significant chance that in that split-moment decision, his future had drastically been sent off course.
* * *
MONTANA PACED THE hospital waiting room. She hadn’t gone home over the last few days. They were finally allowed to see Eddie, and she was nauseous as she waited her turn. Her stomach churned, and her palms sweat at the recurring memory that refused to leave her. Hearing Eddie call her name, turning to see him lunging toward her, then the gunshot ringing loud in her ears and seeing the blood pooling on the sidewalk. Eddie’s blood. Not hers.
It could have been hers.
His family was in the room with him, and she’d just seen Erika go in, but no one was telling her anything beyond that he was alive and surgery had gone well. The bullet was out.
Bullet. One that could have been lodged in her body.
It could be her in the hospital bed right now. She swallowed the lump in her throat that had kept resurfacing over the last forty-eight hours.
Lance approached with a new coffee. The other three he’d brought her sat cold on the table, but she appreciated the gesture and something to do with her hands. “Thank you,” she said, accepting the cup from him.
“Any update?” he asked, taking a sip from his own cup.
“Not yet. His family is still in there, and Erika went in a few minutes ago.” She paced back and forth. “Shit, Lance. What if something is really wrong?” Her chest ached thinking that something could have happened to Eddie. So much so that she was starting to think her new attraction to her pesky neighbor might go a little deeper than she’d originally thought.
Though, she knew these feelings were common in survivors after a tragic event. A bonding effect with the person who saved them sometimes mirrored real emotions...
But then, how could she explain away the ones she’d had in the bar before the shooting? Their flirty banter had moved into real-attraction territory. She’d been genuinely upset that Eddie would be moving. Now, she was devastated that his future plans could be derailed or, at the very least, put on hold.
Lance wrapped an arm around her and led her to the sofa. “I’m sure he’s going to be fine. Erika is a brilliant surgeon. And Eddie’s a cop. His natural instinct was to protect us, so don’t for a second feel guilty or responsible about this.”
He didn’t seem guilty or responsible at all, and that had her slightly on edge. He’d come and gone frequently from the hospital over the last few days, but he claimed to be talking to police, trying to figure out who might have shot at them. He didn’t doubt for a second that the shooter had been aiming at him, not Montana, and that in itself unnerved her. Why would someone want to kill Lance? And why was he so confident that someone wanted him dead? Was competitive snowboarding really that cut-throat?
So far, the shooter hadn’t been located or identified, and Lance hadn’t gotten any real answers about the case from police. They’d spoken to her that night, right after the incident, but she’d been of little help. She hadn’t seen the perpetrator before the gunshot cut through the air, and afterwards she was concerned and focused on Eddie. She had no idea who could have shot at them. Or why.
Erika walked toward them, and Montana stood. “How is he?”
“He’s awake and stable.”
“But is he okay?” Awake and stable meant nothing. She’d once been awake and stable, and she’d ended up with a brain injury that consumed so much of her life. Her sister had once been awake and stable, too. Until she’d dry drowned hours later. Those words meant nothing. Reassurance from Erika was what she needed.
“We don’t know the extent of the injuries yet.” She paused. “There’s damage to his lower vertebrae, and until the swelling goes down, we’re not sure what his recovery will look like.”
Damage to his spine. Montana’s heart fell deep into the pit of her stomach. What if he couldn’t walk after this? Fresh tears burned her eyes. “Can we see him?”
“He’s resting. His family is leaving in a moment, and as soon as he wakes up again, you can go in.”
Damn, she was going crazy not seeing him for herself. She wanted to lay eyes on him, even for just a second, to see for herself that he was...awake and stable.
“Why don’t you go home, and I’ll call you as soon as he does?” Erika said, nodding toward Montana’s still blood-soaked jeans. She’d changed into Lance’s sweatshirt and thrown out the destroyed sweater, covered in Eddie’s blood, but she’d refused to go home to shower and change.
Lance stood and nodded his agreement. “That’s probably for the best.”
Erika shot him a look but nodded as well. “Really, Montana, there’s nothing you can do for him here. I’ll take care of him, I promise,” Erika said, sending her a look that said her concern wasn’t unjustified and hadn’t gone unnoticed.
If Lance read anything more into Montana’s concern, he didn’t let on. If he sensed her being here for the last two days was anything more than guilt and obligation, he didn’t show it.
“Okay,” Montana said reluctantly. “But the minute he’s ready to see anyone, please call me.”
“I will,” Erika said as Lance led her toward the front door.
“Hungry?” he said.
“No.” And it irritated her that he could be, when the man who saved their lives was barely holding on to his own. How could she ever have thought she could have something more with Lance? Now more than ever, it was very clear to her that they weren’t suited to one another.
And the torture of the last forty-eight hours revealed that she had more than just throwaway, casual feelings for Eddie.
She stopped in the doorway of the hospital and shook her head. “I can’t leave.”
Lance looked slightly annoyed as he turned back to look at her. “You heard Erika. There’s no point in staying.”
There was for her. She didn’t want to walk out of here when Eddie couldn’t. She didn’t want him to wake up and know that she’d left. She cared for him far more than that. He deserved to know that she’d been here every second that he was. She needed that knowledge for herself, too. “I’m going to stay.”
Lance checked his watch. “Okay. Well, I’d like to stay with you. You know I would, but I’m leaving in four hours.”
Right. His flight to Aspen for training with the Olympic team. He was still leaving, despite everything that happened. Montana wasn’t entirely surprised, but it would have gone a long way if he’d considered changing his flight, staying an extra few days. Making sure Eddie was okay. Making sure she was okay.
Especially if he was right in his assumption that the bullet had been meant for him. How could he not want to see Eddie and thank him himself?
Her eyes were wide open now, and she was seeing everything so clearly. She desperately wished it hadn’t taken this tragedy for it to happen.
She nodded. “Okay. You go. I’ll stay.”
He hesitated as he touched her arm.
She folded them across her chest, and he let his hand fall away. “Keep me posted, okay? And tell Eddie thanks and that I hope he recovers quickly.”
So insincere, but she nodded. “Of course. Have a safe flight.”
“I’ll call you when I get settled in Aspen,” Lance said.
She wanted to tell him not to bother. She wanted to tell him not to bother calling her ever again, but she was already emotionally exhausted, and her focus was on Eddie right now.
She watched him leave and then headed back to the waiting room, where Erika was still standing. “I knew you couldn’t leave,” she said. “Come on. His family just left. I’ll sneak you in, but only for two minutes, okay?”
So grateful and happy she’d stayed, Montana hugged Erika quickly. �
�Yes. Two minutes, I promise,” she said.
She followed Erika down the hall, and her pulse raced. Her heart beat so loud, even Erika glanced at her. “Are you okay?”
The paramedics had checked her at the site of the accident, and she’d had no injuries, but a heart attack wouldn’t surprise her at all with the way her heart had been pounding for the last two days. “I’m okay,” she said.
Erika paused outside Eddie’s room. “You went through a traumatic experience. Take it easy for a few days, okay? And let me know if you experience any additional stress or depression or anything, all right?”
Montana nodded. Right now all she cared about was seeing Eddie.
“Two minutes,” Erika said as Montana entered the room.
Eddie’s eyes were closed, but she could tell he was awake by the way his head turned at the sound of the door closing. Hooked to monitors, with an IV in both hands and dressed in a hospital gown, the sight was unsettling and far too familiar. Montana fought the urge to throw up.
His eyes opened slowly, and he looked at her, his expression completely unreadable. A flash of the way he’d looked at her in the bar as they’d flirted appeared in her mind, followed by the slightly desperate way he’d stared up at her as she’d held his body on the sidewalk, and she swallowed hard as emotions threatened to strangle her.
“Hi... How are you?” she asked, moving closer to the bed. He looked pale and tired, his usual energy gone.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d liked that about him until it was no longer there. What could she say or do to bring it back? She’d readily be woken up by his terrible guitar playing again anytime. She’d put up with the way he made her feel inadequate for not being able to cook. She craved his overprotective nature—the one that had resulted in him lying there.
“I’m okay,” he said, trying to prop himself higher on the bed.
“Can I get you anything? Do you need anything?” Seemed so generic. So bland. He deserved to hear something important, something meaningful from her right now, but she couldn’t fabricate the thoughts, let alone vocalize the words.
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