Page 90 of Freeing Lark

“No, sweetheart. You’re spiraling.”

Lark swallowed. “I might have ruined his shoulder.”

Spark shook his head. “You didn’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I treated him, remember.”

Lark stared at him. “And?”

“You’re lucky. The bullet didn’t strike any of the critical parts. You probably saved him from infection.”

Her eyes filled. “You really think so?”

“I know so.”

Hours ticked by slowly. Finally, a doctor came through the doors. “Cormac Shibley’s family?”

Lark stood. “Yes.”

“He’s going to be fine. There’s no major nerve or vascular damage. With rest and a few weeks of physical therapy, we expect a full recovery.”

Lark nearly collapsed with relief. “Can I see him?”

“Briefly. He’s going to stay overnight.”

She nodded. When she entered his room, he was asleep. For the first time since the island, he looked peaceful.

Lark pulled a chair up beside the bed. She took his hand. His fingers curled weakly around hers, even in sleep. She rested her head against the edge of the mattress near his hip. She meant to stay awake. She really did. But exhaustion finally won. Her eyes closed. And with Cormac’s hand wrapped securely around hers, Lark slipped into sleep.

CHAPTER 29

Hoot woke to the steady beep of the monitor and the warm weight of a hand curled around his. For one disoriented second, he didn’t know where he was. That’s two days in a row now, and he didn’t like that feeling whatsoever.

Then he turned his head to see Lark. She was asleep in the chair beside his bed, her cheek resting against the mattress, her fingers tangled with his. Her hair had fallen across her face, and exhaustion had erased every trace of the bright woman he’d gotten to know.

She looked young. Almost vulnerable. And somehow, she still managed to make something inside his chest ache. He tightened his fingers around hers. Lark stirred but didn’t wake.

The door opened. A nurse stepped inside, glanced at the clock, then at Lark. “I’m afraid visiting hours are⁠—”

“No.” The word came out rougher than he’d intended. Almost a growl. The nurse stopped. Hoot gave her a warning look. “She’s staying.”

The nurse glanced at Lark, then back at him. “Mr. Shibley⁠—”

“She’s under my protection. She isn’t going anywhere. Especially not home alone.”

Something in his voice must have convinced her arguing wasn’t worth the effort. The nurse sighed. “I’ll make an exception.”

“Thank you.”

She gave him a pointed look. “Try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The nurse left. Hoot looked back at Lark. He’d spent years learning how to sleep anywhere, anytime, with one eye open and his hand near a weapon.

But with her hand in his? He couldn’t sleep, enjoying the feel of it too much. But eventually, the medication set in, and he dropped off to sleep.