The nurse steps in but doesn’t come over to get vitals or anything. My eyebrows pull together and when I take another look at her, it tugs at something in me. A memory. A moment.
“You were there,” I start, “in the emergency room when I came in.”
She nods once and smiles. “I was. My name is Bridget. I’m not a nurse on this floor, but I just wanted to stop in and make sure you were awake and on the road to recovery.”
There’s nothing hidden in her words and the sincerity is clear to hear.
“I’m good,” I breathe out while holding my hand out for Ezra to take.
She slides her palm against mine with zero hesitation and we thread our fingers together like we’ve been doing it our entire lives. I love the warmth of her hand and how smooth her skin is. My scars and callouses are a stark contrast to her unblemished flesh.
“Thank you for being there,” I tell her honestly. “You really helped me feel like I was fighting even though it’s the people who was working on me who deserve the praise.”
“You’d be surprised,” she says with understanding, “the mind is powerful, and giving it something to focus on when everything is falling apart and the pain is hard to bare, really does help.”
One side of my mouth twitches and I’m not sure why. “You told me that if I have someone to hold onto, someone I never want to let go of, to think of them.” Ezra’s breath hitches and her fingers tighten on mine. “I thought of Ezra and knew I could make it, no matter the fight.”
Bridgett smiles while looking between us. “I can see how much you two love each other,” she muses. “I’m glad I could help you.”
“I’m Ryker and this is my Old Lady, Ezra. If you ever need anything, come to the club,” I tell her, meaning every word.
“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I was just doing my job.” She glances at the clock on the wall before giving us another smile. “I’ll get going. Don’t push yourself too hard, you were shot.”
“Sure,” I throw out the word, knowing it’s not going to happen.
Bridget pauses with her hand on the door and laughs softly. “Yeah, I don’t believe you at all.”
I bark out a laugh and then groan as I press a hand to where the pain sharply pulses. With an admonishing shake of her head, Bridget slips out the door.
“I think that was Whiskey’s neighbor,” Ezra tells me and I look toward her and take her in. “When we were in the waiting room, he mentioned her and that he’d see if he could get some information on how you were doing. He couldn’t because she was busy; now I know why. I’m glad she was there for you.”
I let that information sink in and nod. When I tug on her hand to get her to come closer, Ezra glares at me.
“Stop it,” she insists, “you were shot.”
“I was shot,” I point out, “but I’m not dead. Get in bed with me.”
“Nope. You need to rest.”
She sounds so resolute, but I can see the way she wants to curl up into my side. It’s her safe space and I think she needs it just as much as I do.
I don’t think I’ll ever say out loud how scared I was, but I can still feel the sensation lingering in my bones. I’m glad Lyons took the shot, and Bobby didn’t have the chance to fire again.
With a grimace, I force my body over to one side. It’s not an easy feat considering the bed isn’t nearly big enough. But we can make due.
“Please,” I plead with her without a hint of shame.
She looks at me for a long moment before huffing out, “Fine.”
Her movements are careful and slow as she gets into bed next to me. I can tell she’s afraid of hurting me to the point that she’s barely breathing. When I wrap my arm around her and pull her tighter against my chest, she finally allows her head to rest against my pec.
The sigh of relief that comes out of her ghosts against my skin while I gently trail her hair through my fingers. With a kiss on the top of her head, I really start to relax. She’s right where she belongs. In my arms.
And safe.
“How’s Opal?” I ask, the exhaustion easy to hear in my voice.
“She’s fine. A little shaken, but she’s fine.”
