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Three bullet wounds require the same blinking, beeping machines as a premature baby.
Josie followed the lines on the screen tracking her brother’s heartbeats. He’d survived two surgeries to repair the damage to his chest. She glanced at the long tube peeking out from under the hospital bedding. The tube ended in another machine, but it began in his left lung.
She looked up at him. A series of scratches covered one cheek. It looked as if he’d rubbed his face up against a rock. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Her brother had tubes coming out of his chest, his hand was bandaged to the point it was unrecognizable, but the marks on his face brought her to tears.
“I held it together on the plane,” she whispered. “I just sat there and hoped you would be OK. But then I realized that if you survive this, if you’re fine, no permanent damage—you’ll go back. I know you will.”
Because Dominic had never been afraid. Or if he had been, he’d hidden it well. She’d only seen this desire to take on injustice, to fight for those who couldn’t stand up for themselves. And his drive to be the best of the best. Her brother had his sights set on attending Ranger School from the beginning.
“Oh, Dominic,” she said, raising her voice, hoping he’d hear her. But he hadn’t opened his eyes since she’d arrived at the hospital. The nurse said that was normal given the anesthesia.
Normal.
She’d laughed, the sound brittle and bordering on hysterical. The nurse had left her alone with Dominic, but made sure Josie knew she’d be nearby in case anyone needed her. And she had a feeling the staff thought the recently arrived sister would need them more than the injured soldier.
But they didn’t understand. She’d spent the longest and most precious weeks of her life sitting beside a hospital bed. It had been much smaller—technically an incubator—but the machines were the same. Watching the blinking lights on the monitors, waiting, that had become her normal.
And here she was again.
So much had changed. This was Dominic, not Morgan. She wasn’t alone. Her father was asleep in the hotel room the army had arranged for their stay. But still, sitting here, watching someone she loved, a member of her family who owned a part of her heart that would shatter into tiny pieces if he didn’t make it through just like it had when Morgan stopped fighting, she wondered . . .
What am I waiting for? Why am I pushing Noah away when I could be holding him close?
Her gaze remained fixed on her brother, but her mind wandered back to her hometown. To be fair, she had held him very close before they left. But reaching through grief, holding on to the person nearby to feel something, anything other than the fear wound tight to pain, that wasn’t the same.
Watching Dominic’s heartbeat on a computer monitor, she opened her eyes to the fact that she wanted Noah in her life. Yes, she was terrified that she couldn’t handle the heartbreak if he decided to walk away, if he heard the words “I love you” and fled.
“The thing is,” she murmured to her brother, “I think I love him.”
She had run to Noah Tager’s side when she’d needed someone. And this time, she hadn’t been looking for him to step in and save the day. He couldn’t do a damn thing for her brother. He wasn’t a doctor. But he could bear witness to her pain and hold her close.
He’d changed over the past five years. She understood that, possibly better than anyone else in Forever. And she liked who he was now. He still possessed a body she wanted to explore, from his supersized muscles to his . . .
She glanced at her brother. The anesthesia still had a hold on him. But she didn’t want him to wake up while she was thinking about Noah’s abs. No, she needed to focus on his other qualities. The fact that Noah helped his friends when they asked. Sure, he didn’t smile as much. But beneath his defensive scowl, she had a feeling he was still the same guy who’d driven his grandmother to the beach because she loved the feel of sand between her toes.
“I meant it when I told him I loved him that night. In the barn. Five years ago,” she whispered. “I love him. Maybe I always have . . .”
And suddenly the thought of not risking her heart on Noah seemed so much worse than the potential fallout.
“HE’S GOING TO make a full recovery.”
Noah heard those words, spoken over a crystal clear international connection, and he sank to his knees behind the bar. He’d been living in a fucking holding pattern for the past two weeks. Josie had called with updates, but never good news. He’d had to fight back tears after that first call, and he’d been working that time too.
“Dominic’s here. I don’t know much yet, but he was shot in the chest. He’s in surgery.” Josie had paused for what felt like forever. “Again. But the nurse said most combat-related deaths happen before they reach the hospital, so all least he’s here, right?”
“Right,” he’d confirmed as the pit in his stomach had turning into a fucking crater. And God, he’d felt like he would lose it right there, one hand on the taps, his shoulder holding his phone pressed against his ear.
“You all right down there?” Josh called from the other side of the bar. It was Tuesday and they’d just opened Big Buck’s, otherwise Noah would have had a full audience to witness his weak-kneed tumble. “Not going to faint on me, are you? Because I left my smelling salts in the car.”
He drew his cell away from his ear and looked up at the redheaded Summers brother peering down at him. “Shouldn’t you be out somewhere chopping down trees and pissing off environmentalists?”
Josh shook his head. “Day off.”
“Then sit down and drink your beer.” Noah pushed himself off the ground.
“Noah, are you there?” Josie said.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
