Even in sleep, fighting to recover from a bullet wound and the infection that had followed, he exuded power and strength.
The mission against Castillo had gone smoothly up until the very last minute, when he’d gotten a shot off—hitting Ruston in the torso, barely missing his heart and other critical organs.
“How’s our patient today?” Betty, one of the many nurses who’d been caring for Ruston, asked as she stepped into the room.
“About the same, I think,” I murmured. “He’s barely woken,” I added, the worry evident in my tone. The heavy pain medicine regimen had kept him largely asleep, and when he did wake occasionally, he’d been pretty out of it.
“It’s to be expected,” she explained gently, and not for the first time. “Between the pain medication and the injuries his body is fighting, his body needs rest. His vitals are good.” She shot me a look I’d seen many times from my own mother. “You, my dear, should get a night’s rest in your own bed. He’ll be fine. You know he’s in good hands.”
“I do,” I agreed. Hawthorne General was an excellent hospital; my mother had been a nurse here for many years. My insistence had nothing to do with his care, and we both knew it.
She clicked her tongue. “Something tells me that man had no intention of you losing sleep night after night hunched over in that tiny chair.”
“Maybe not,” I allowed. The fact that I was still going to went without saying.
She smiled knowingly. “Ah, young love.”
I didn’t correct her, knowing it would sound insane to explain that we’d only just met, that I was sitting vigil next to a stranger’s bed.
I couldn’t explain it, but my connection to him had been instant. Now, with him injured but thankfully recovering, I couldn’t seem to pull myself away.
“I have to get home, changed, and off to work. I’ll be back tonight,” I told her.
“We’ll keep a light on for you.” She winked as I shot one last look at Ruston before forcing myself from the room.
After a quick stop to shower and change clothes at the two-bedroom home I’d only recently begun living in alone after Emmie had moved in with her soon-to-be husband, I drove to the bakery, knowing a coffee the size of my head was in order if I was going to make it through the day.
Francesca’s Sweets, owned by one of my closest friends, Francesca, was a delicious and very welcome addition to our small town of Hawthorne, Nevada. Currently on maternity leave after having twins only recently, Frannie’s shop was being managed by her mother-in-law, Sophie, for the time being. Which was where I found her, behind the counter, refilling the racks of mouthwatering treats.
“Gracie girl,” she greeted, her eyes warm. Married to Axel Black, member of the Knights MC and one of my father’s closest friends, Sophie was more like an aunt to me than anything.
“Hi, Soph,” I greeted. “Coffee, please. A large,” I emphasized.
She eyed me in concern, no doubt taking in the dark circles under my eyes. “Sleeping okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assured her.
Despite living in a small town where everyone seemed to know everything, aside from my best friends, I’d managed to keep my visits to the hospital largely under wraps.
Sophie looked ready to press but thought better of it, handing me my coffee instead. I waved in farewell, walking out to my car, headed for the salon.
I’d loved all things beauty for as long as I could remember, forcing friends and family into makeovers of every creation. When I’d started doing hair professionally, they’d all been a bit relieved, though I did force them into my chair now and again.
I loved making people feel beautiful in whatever form that meant. It wasn’t what I changed on the outside but the impact it had on the inside. I’d worked at the salon for several years and had loved every moment.
That was, until the new owner, Valerie Jenkins, had come into play six months ago. Her son, Elliot, had taken an immediate interest in me, and after I’d declined his repeated advances, she’d begun to make my life miserable at work. It was becoming increasingly clear that I needed to find a new job, but with Hawthorne being such a small town, my opportunities were limited.
“You’re late,” she barked, her dark eyes narrowed on me, as soon as I walked in the door.
I looked down at my watch, which showed one minute past, but had learned arguing wasn’t worth it.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, heading for the back to drop off my things.
It was going to be a long enough day already without fueling her wrath first thing.
* * *
Folded into my all-too-familiar chair later that night with the latestCosmoin hand, I was just about to doze off.
