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“I’m sorry.” I winced.

“It was Kenan.” She shook her head, scowling. “He admitted that to Cammie.”

“Sorry,” I repeated.

Caoimhe sighed heavily. “I suppose I gave you a reason to think the worst. You should know he admitted to breaking into your place as well.”

Not knowing how to reply to that, I slumped back in the hard plastic chair and we’d fallen into silence.

Hours later, the surgeon had come out to tell us Cameron’s surgery had gone well and she was in recovery.

I still hadn’t felt like I could breathe until I saw her in the hospital bed and heard the machines beeping, proving she had a steady, strong heartbeat. Within hours, Quinn, Taran, Janice, and her husband Greg arrived. I barely remembered my conversations with them.

The only conversation that stuck out was the one I had with Detective Inspector Katherine Mulvaney who had driven three hours from Aberdeen to interview me and Caoimhe. She’d told me Kenan Reese was pronounced dead at the scene. That they’d need to talk to Cameron once she woke up. I told her quite fucking belligerently that Cameron would talk to her when she was ready.

My woman had given enough to this case, and while I knew she’d talk willingly to the police about her experience, I wanted to give her a chance to wake up and heal first.

Taran was very close to her due date and extremely uncomfortable, so she and Quinn kept leaving the hospital room to take walks and snack breaks. Janice sat on the chair on the other side of Cameron’s bed and refused to move. She’d even snapped at Greg to stop pestering her to go back to the hotel. I’d never seen her snap at her husband. Greg looked stunned and had quietly left.

My eyes fluttered open as if sensing something. First, I saw Janice, who was sound asleep, her neck bent at an awkward angle, snoring lightly. Then my gaze drifted to the right and my heart jolted in my chest as my eyes locked with familiar, gorgeous blue ones.

I lurched forward, grabbing for Cameron’s hand. Her name was hoarse as it scraped out of me.

Cameron blinked slowly, tiredly, as she covered my hand with hers. “Baby,” she whispered back, her voice even hoarser than mine. She frowned, licking her lips. “Dry.”

I got up to pour water into a glass and brought it back to help her take a drink.

“Thanks,” she murmured as her attention landed on her mum. Her expression softened. “She’s going to hurt her neck sleeping like that.”

“Let her be. She’s been here all day and night. How are you, baby?” I asked as I brushed my lips over her temple.

Cameron turned her head to me. “Tired. But okay.” Her eyes widened. “Caoimhe. Is Caoimhe okay?”

I nodded, smoothing her hair back off her face. “She’s still here in Glasgow. She was hoping to see you.”

“Aye, aye, I want to see her.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “She saved me, Forde.”

How close she came to death would haunt me for a long time. “You saved each other.”

“That turd stabbed me.”

Her use of the word turd considering the circumstances made my lips twitch. “I know.”

“I’m okay?”

Her fear killed me. “You’re going to be okay. Though you’re going to hate every second of the recovery.”

Cameron groaned.

The sound woke Janice. She blinked, clearly discombobulated, and then her eyes widened on Cameron. “You’re awake? Oh, sweetheart, you’re awake.” Then she promptly burst into uncontrollable, very unlike Janice tears.

“Mum, I’m okay.” Cameron appeared as shocked as I felt as I rounded the hospital bed to put an arm around Janice.

She shook me off. “No, it’s not about me,” she cried. “Go back to Cammie.”

Bemused, I did just that.

Cameron clearly wanted to reach for her, but when she tried, she winced, so I insisted she keep still. “Mum … Mum, give me your hand.”