Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20775 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 104(@200wpm)___ 83(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
“How you doin’?”
I just shrugged. Somewhere behind the double doors, doctors had their hands inside my husband’s chest. I was numb. Terrified. Silently trying to control my panic.
“Been where you are,” Uncle Grease said quietly. “Think it might be easier for them.” He glanced at aunt Callie. “Doped up on the good shit and completely unaware that we’re out here losin’ our minds.”
“It’s true,” Aunt Callie said with a sad smile. “I don’t remember most of my time at the hospital.”
“I’m not sure if I’m going to scream or throw up,” I confessed. “They haven’t told me anything.”
“They probably don’t know anythin’,” Uncle Grease replied. “All they can do is look on their little computer and tell ya, oh yeah, it says here that he’s in surgery. Take a seat and wait.”
“I just wish I knew how much longer it’s going to be,” I whispered, glancing at the help desk. “I don’t even know when he was shot. But I think he’s been in surgery a really long time.”
“Hey, Josiah,” Uncle Grease called.
“What’s up?” Josiah asked as he strode toward us, his hair standing on end from running his fingers through it so many times.
“What time was Mark shot?”
“Around four,” Josiah replied. “Four fifteen, maybe?”
Uncle Grease nodded his thanks and turned back to me. “Well, now we know that much, yeah?”
A new voice broke through the chatter and my head snapped up, finding her at the edge of the crowd. “Mark Eastwood?” she asked, loud but a little tentative.
“I’m his wife,” I called back, practically bowling uncle Grease over as I shot past him. “Are you the doctor?”
“One of them,” she replied, nodding. She was wearing clean scrubs, but there was a face mask dangling around her neck like she’d just taken it off. “Your husband’s surgery was successful. We were able to repair—”
Everything went quiet.
I didn’t even catch the rest of the words that came out of her mouth. I just stared at her eyes, a deep brown with the tiniest little yellow flecks in the irises. They crinkled a little at the edges as she smiled kindly at me.
My husband’s surgery was successful. The doctor was smiling. That was all I needed to know. That was everything.
“—he’ll be in the recovery room for about an hour,” she continued. “So we can keep an eye on things, make sure that his pain is managed and he’s not having any trouble. As soon as you can go back, someone will come out to get you.”
“Thank you,” my dad said, reaching out to shake her hand while I just stood there dumbly. “Thank you so much.”
“You’ve very welcome,” the doctor replied. She looked back at me. “Your husband fought like hell,” she said quietly. “I have a feeling he’ll be really happy to see you.”
She nodded at the others who called out their thanks as she stepped back, then turned and walked back through the double doors.
I was still standing there, staring at the doors when the elevator opened behind me.
“Cec!”
Within moments, I was surrounded by Mark’s team.
“He’s okay,” I said hurriedly as Forrest wrapped his arms around me. “He just got out of surgery and they said I can see him in about an hour.”
“I’m so sorry,” Forrest rasped. “The minute I declined medical help they wouldn’t let me go with him. It was fucked. They questioned us for hours and had us in a holding cell even longer. We just got out of there.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, pulling back. I looked him over. There was a tear in the sleeve of his shirt.
“Fine.” He waved me off. “Need to clean it up, take some antibiotics. It’s nothing.”
“Forrest,” I scolded, leaning around to look at his arm. “That’s bad.”
“I’m a doctor,” he replied flatly. “It’s fine.”
“Well, we’re in a hospital now,” Lu said, shoving in between us so she could give me a quick hug. “Maybe go get it stitched or something?”
“Hey, Lu.”
“Sorry it took us so long,” she whispered. “We should’ve been here.”
I looked up at Eli, who was surprisingly quiet. “Siah said you stopped the shooter.”
“Not fast enough,” he replied, leaning down for a hug.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Ephraim spat. He looked at me. “This has been a runnin’ conversation for the last, oh, six hours.”
“Where are the kids?” Forrest asked, looking around the room.
“Home with my cousins,” I replied as we migrated to some chairs. “My family came straight over.”
“Looks like it,” Lu said, glancing around the room. “The Aces showed out.”
“It’s a thing.” I shrugged. “Any time someone is hurt, they take over the hospital. Poet and Amy were already in town so they’ve been here since Wilson called.”
“Good,” Eli murmured. “Though, you might want to give them permission to head out. The old guy looks like he’s fallin’ asleep in his chair.”
I looked over to where Poet was indeed, nodding off in his seat. “He won’t go. Not until he sees Mark.”