My head lolls into the junction where his shoulder meets his neck, my forehead pressing close.
“Need to tell you that I love you, Sunny,” I rasp, before I lose consciousness in his arms.
40
Sutton
I never realizedhow effective my uniform was at concealing blood until I found myself desperately searching for signs of Alice. I refused to wash away the bloodstains on my hands from holding her head upright, and the small red trickle from her temple that I’m not sure she even realized was there. But I did. The moment I tore open the metal cabinet and saw her face, pale and lifeless, with her eyes closed as if she was already gone, I was immediately fixated.
In a matter of seconds, I cataloged everything that was wrong.
Because when you spend so much of your time with someone, care for them and memorize everything about them, it’s easy to spot the changes. The bruises blooming beneath her tan skin. The tips of her fingers, torn and bloodied. The raw abrasion around her wrist from the rope tying them together. Bloodied temple. Scraped chin. Split lip.
All of it wrong.
I drop my face into my hands, scrubbing my eyelids. The exhaustion and worry settle deep in my bones as I try to steady myself in the silence of the hospital hallway, knowing it’s impossible until I lay eyes on her and see for myself that she’s going to be okay.
“Family of Alice Thompson?” A voice cuts through the quiet.
I jerk my head up from my place on the floor outside the secured door to the inpatient rooms.
“Can I see her now?” I climb to my feet as the words hang in the air.
“My name is Dr. Nguyen. I’m the attending physician treating Alice this evening.”
“Is she okay?”
Dr. Nguyen smiles. “She’s stable. We have her on an insulin drip for mild DKA, along with some fluids and electrolytes. She also has a concussion. A couple more hours, and she would have been in serious trouble. With some supportive care, she’ll make a full recovery.”
I don’t breathe as her words settle over me. “Can I see her?”
Dr. Nguyen swipes her arm, gesturing to the secured doors. “Of course. I can let you sit with her and keep her company.”
I pull out my phone and message Silas, knowing he’ll share the brief update with everyone else. Right now, nobody else matters. My only concern is seeing her with my own eyes and making sure she’s breathing. Once I have that reassurance, I’ll deal with the rest of the world.
With a swipe of the doctor’s badge, the doors disengage and swing open. I step beside her into the sterile hall, the scent of antiseptic and alcohol filling my lungs.
A commotion erupts down the hall. A scream pierces the quiet, followed by someone bellowing, “I need some help in here!”
Dr. Nguyen rushes toward the source of the noise, and I follow, my training kicking in. When someone calls for help, my instinct is to run toward them despite being far outside my own jurisdiction.
Alice’s voice, high-pitched and frantic, echoes into the hall.
“I need to see Nellie. Where is she? I need to tell them I’m so sorry. I need them to know I tried. I tried so hard. Where is she? Get the fuck off me!” she growls.
The room is chaotic. The machine behind the bed issues a series of high, rapid beeps as Alice tears the leads from her chest. Blood trails down her arm in crimson rivulets, dripping silently onto the floor from the IV she must have yanked out herself. Her shoulders are tense and defensive, as if she’s ready to force her way to the door.
A nurse stands nearby, cradling her jaw as she watches a team quickly gather in the room. The urgency in their movements is palpable.
Dr. Nguyen turns to the woman clad in navy-blue scrubs. “Are you okay, Olivia?”
“I’m okay.” Olivia shifts her attention toward Alice, silently indicating that the focus should be on her patient.
“Firecracker.” My voice is low and steady, yet audible amid the hum of chatter. “Look at me.”
The nickname quickly cuts through the tension, and Alice’s wild whiskey eyes snap to mine.
“Sutton,” she whispers, as if she can’t quite believe I’m here, before she calls louder, “Sutton!”
