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And that lump wasn’t moving.
Not even a little bit.
Justice and Ford pulled their guns.
But before either of them—or me for that matter—could get a shot off, another one rang out.
This one coming from the man that had crawled across the floor to my daughter and retrieved his service pistol from where she’d gathered it up to her along with Pace’s prosthetics, uniform shirt and Kevlar vest.
Jackson went down with a bullet to the shoulder.
Pace fell to the floor, no longer physically capable of holding his head up, and my daughter’s head finally popped up from where she was slumped over.
I’ll never forget the scream that left her throat, either.Chapter 21Marriage tip #45—if your wife is folding laundry, don’t ask her when dinner will be ready.
-Unread text from Oakley to Pace
Oakley
“Pace,” I whispered against Pace’s hand. “Wake up, baby.”
He’d been out for a week and three days.
A week and three days of nothing but stillness.
A week and three days of prayers.
A week and three days of terror, uncertainty, and stillness from the man that never sat still, no matter what.
“We’re going to go grab some dinner and a shower,” Ford said, sounding worn out as hell. “You should come with us. Maybe catch a few hours of sleep while you’re out.”
I shot my brother an ‘are you kidding me’ look, and he rolled his eyes.
“Maybe you should catch some sleep while you’re there,” I suggested. “And also, change your clothes. You have a little blood splatter on your shirt collar.”
Ford grimaced. “SWAT call.”
I didn’t bother asking for more details. I was dealing with all that I could for now.
Anything that had put my brother in such a bad mood and had caused him to have blood that close to his face, didn’t seem like something I could deal with.
“Love you,” he said as he left the room.
“I love you, too, baby brother!” I called out to his quickly retreating back.
My mom and dad had already been by to visit, but they were leaving today. They’d taken off another unpaid week from work, but there was nothing they could do here. A point in which I’d convinced them of finally this morning.
I closed my eyes and leaned my face against Pace’s forearm.
Today had been a jam-packed day.
Dr. Page had come by and checked on the two of us. Ford had come by to tell me that Pace’s mother was denied bail and would be spending the foreseeable future in lockup until her trial. A trial that was set to take place in a month.
Sergeant Jackson had been moved from the hospital to lockup as well, bail denied for him, too. His hearing was unsurprisingly set for the same time as Pace’s mother’s.
In a month, we’d have one hell of a day, that was for sure.
“Pascha Eidolon Vineyard,” I teased. “Wake up.”
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
My heart pounded in my throat, and I tried not to let the exultation show on my face when I lifted it to find him staring at me with so much love in his eyes that I couldn’t breathe.
“Why not?” I asked. “That is your name.”
“That’s my name,” he agreed. “But I hate it. She used to call me that.”
I’d never call him that again.
I rose up from my perch on my chair and leaned over the bed until I could press my lips against Pace’s chapped lips.
“I’m so happy to see you awake,” I breathed.
When a tear fell and plopped right onto his face, he lifted his good arm and pulled me into his chest.
“I was lost there for a second, but I’m found now.”
That was when I broke down and started to cry.
It was the first time that I’d cried a single drop since it’d all gone down. Since my life had changed so irrevocably.
He pulled me into him until I was lying by his side, face resting on the good side of his chest.
His hand curled around mine and froze when he felt the healing scabs there.
“What happened here?” he asked, sounding confused.
I went up on an elbow to look in his eyes.
“You don’t remember?” I asked, sounding worried.
He frowned, his eyes squeezing shut for a few long seconds, then they popped open again and the familiar panic that I’d seen that same day came upon him all over again.
“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re okay.”
I smiled at him and placed another kiss on his lips. “I’m okay. The tile from the floor exploding caught my hands, and that was the only damage done.”
“She’s being very quiet about the other injuries, too,” I heard said from the doorway.
I looked up to find my father standing there, arms crossed over his chest.
“She was hit twice. Your bulletproof vest covering her saved her from taking one to the head, and one to the chest. Look,” Dad said as he walked farther into the room.
