When her pace quickens toward me, I return to Dax’s side. I scoop his hand and smile. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”
He frowns, and his puffy eyes are cloudy. “Am I dying?”
“No,” I whisper, lowering to kiss his hand. “No, you’re okay.”
He grunts, wincing from the pain in his throat. “It felt like I was dying.”
“You were just sick. But you’ll get better now.”
“Dr. Harris is on the way,” Trisha says, bustling into the room. “Dax, how are you feeling?”
He grunts again, and his voice is hoarse. “Like hell.”
Trisha smiles at him. “But you’re awake, and that’s tremendous.”
I turn to her, bursting with happiness. Before this day, I’d never heard her say a nice word about Dax. She’d cower in fear if he were brought up in conversation. Now, she’s elated he’s on the mend.
Dr. Harris enters the room, steadying the stethoscope around his neck.
He flashes a torch in Dax’s eyes, and asks him to follow prompts like wiggling his toes and saying what day of the week it is.
Dr. Harris marks Dax’s chart, and a smile brightens his face. “This is an excellent start, Mr. Malone. Better than I could’ve hoped for.”
I clutch my hands over my chest as my heart swells. “Oh, really, Doctor?”
Dr. Harris looks at me, beaming. “Yes. He’s still got a way to go, but I’m very impressed.”
I sit back down and throw my arms around Dax.
He gradually turns his head toward me and plants a dry kiss on my forehead.
“Just take it easy, Dax,” Dr. Harris says. “Don’t strain yourself. Your body needs time to heal, and stress will be your undoing.”
Dax nods, and I say to Dr. Harris, “Don’t worry, I’ll be here for anything he needs.”
Dr. Harris nods and moves past the bed. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”
Nurse Trisha follows him out, and I stroke Dax’s arm. “I was so worried,” I whisper gently. “But I knew you’d come back to me.”
“I don’t think I would’ve been able to without you by my side.”
I lift the pendant from beside his pillow. “I think this helped too.”
Life comes back into his eyes. “You found it.”
“It gave me hope again.”
“Your bracelet…” He tries to sit up. “It’s at the clubhouse… I…”
I press on his shoulder, lying him back down. “You need to rest. The bracelet means nothing if you don’t get better.”
“But my brother…”
I smile. “Your brother is locked up. Baby, you’re free.”
His chin drops. “What?”
I nod eagerly. “It’s over. Sheriff Lennon has him in custody, ready to throw away the key.”
