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None of those sum up what Gray is to me. The closest thing to the truth I can come up with is, he’s my everything, but I don’t know if that’s going to convince her to let me see him.
Fortunately, before I can say anything else, Elias steps forward. He throws his family name around just like I’ve seen Gray and Declan do, and I’m so fucking grateful for these men right now.
The receptionist finally relents and waves over a nurse to take us into the back. I nearly sigh in relief as we follow the slight woman in blue scrubs through the hallways. She glances at me over her shoulder, leading the way.
“He’s still in surgery, so you’ll have to wait,” she says. “I’ll have someone come let you know when he’s out, and for now, you can wait here.”
She leaves us in a waiting room with comfortable furniture, and even though I know we’re as close to Gray as we can get right now, it doesn’t feel like enough. I want to be inside the surgery suite. I want to hold his hand and lend him my strength, to make sure the doctors don’t fuck anything up.
They just… they have to save him.
It feels like it takes hours. Maybe it does, I honestly don’t know. All I know is that when I’m about ready to crawl out of my own skin with worry, the nurse finally returns.
“He’s in a recovery suite,” she tells us. “Room two-thirteen. You can—”
I push my way past her before she can even finish the sentence, Declan and Elias following close behind me. She protests, but I don’t listen, pushing the door to his room open and stepping inside. As we enter, I realize that two people are already in the room, standing by the bed.
Gray’s parents.
They look less than pleased to see me, but I don’t fucking care. When I look down at the bed, I realize Gray’s eyes are open, and everything else seems to melt away.
“Sparrow,” he croaks as our gazes meet. His eyes look dazed and groggy, but he’s awake.
He’s alive.
I cross the distance between us, not caring that his parents are watching, not caring that his mom is frowning in disapproval. He’s my fucking family, and he almost died today to save me, and I’m not going to let another second go by without telling him what I need to tell him.
He’s already reaching for me before I’m even by the bed, struggling up to a sitting position as he pulls me against him, crushing my lips to his.
I try to be gentle, conscious of his injuries. But Gray doesn’t seem to care. The pressure of his lips is hard and bruising, and as he kisses me, tears stream down my face, wave after wave of relief washing through me.
My throat is thick with emotion, and for once, I don’t fight against the tears like I have all my life. I just let myself fucking cry.
Finally, we break apart, gasping for breath. But he doesn’t let me leave him, holding me close to his body as he buries his face in my neck, kissing my shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispers into my hair. “Fucking hell, I love you, Sparrow.”
My heart slams to a stop in my chest. I pull away, needing to see his eyes, even though I know he’s being completely fucking serious. I hold his chin in my hands, looking at his pale face, his strong gaze, the glassiness of his blue-green eyes, and I know that everything has changed.
“I love you too, Gray,” I whisper. “So fucking much.”
Then I lean in to kiss him again.
Because I can.
Because I love him, and he loves me. And we’re both still alive.
26
The hospital room is quiet, aside from the occasional shuffle outside of Gray’s room.
It feels strange, almost peaceful, to be surrounded by nothing but the dim hum of machines, a soft darkness as the sun sets outside the window, bathing the room in golden hues. Gray’s been sleeping for the past couple hours, his parents long gone, but none of us have left.
We’ve been through too much together to just be able to walk away, even just to get sleep or grab a shower.
I rinsed off the blood on my face in the bathroom, and a doctor took a look at the wound where the bullet grazed me, but fortunately, he declared that I didn’t need any stitches.
Elias’s body is warm compared to the heavily air-conditioned room as I rest my head up against his shoulder. My body slumps against his as I doze. I’m so fucking tired, but I can’t stay asleep for long, my eyelids always snapping open to check on Gray. Declan sits on the other side of me at the end of the couch, my feet propped up on his lap, his head bent at an angle against the back of the cushion.
