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“Yes. I can give you all that information,” Grant assured him.
“They’re prepping him for surgery. Although this is fairly common, it can still be dangerous. Because he wasn’t found right away . . .” The doctor trailed off, and a chill stole over Juliet. Her teeth started chattering.
“Breathe, Jules,” Dex murmured. “He’s a tough bastard. He won’t let this take him down.”
Grant and the doctor talked details, and Juliet forced herself to fight down panic for Beau’s sake. The baby needed Juliet to have a level head.
The doctor sent them back into the waiting room, where the television was set to some home and garden channel. A woman was cooking, then a man. Several lifetimes seemed to pass her by.
Dex ran back to the house for a diaper bag and a few bottles of formula, and by the time she got back, Beau was ravenous. Juliet fed and changed the baby and put her in clean clothes, doing her best to entertain and distract her as her energy returned after a nap. She couldn’t believe there’d ever been a time where Beau’s existence in Will’s life had made her hesitate to get involved with him. Those big, dark eyes in that precious face—why had Juliet been so afraid about raising her?
The doctor came out later, looking tired. “We cleaned up what we could and we put in a stent. We may have to go back in.”
“When can we see him?” Juliet asked.
“He’ll be in recovery soon, but then it’ll be a while until he’s awake—possibly even longer until he’s lucid. Maybe you should take your daughter home and get some rest.”
“No, I need to see him first.”
The doctor squared his jaw, but finally nodded.
When she got to see Will, his face was gray and drawn and his eyes were glazed—but he was awake, and that was something.
“I love you, William Ellis.”
He blinked slowly at her, and she wondered if he could even understand what she was saying—or even knew who she was.
“I know,” he said weakly. “Stubborn.”
“I am,” she admitted, sobbing and laughing at the same time.
“Beau?”
“She’s good. Look.” Juliet angled the sleeping baby so Will could see her face.
He managed a faint smile. “Not hurt?” His eyes closed and took a long moment to reopen.
“Not hurt. Did you fall?”
“I don’t know.”
“They checked her over. She’s fine. A little upset, but I’ll take care of her.”
“Don’t leave her alone.”
“Yes, Master,” she whispered.
She sat with him, holding his hand, trying not to cry all over again with all the tubes and machines attached to him. Her chest ached, and her stomach was still knotted with worry. There was still so much risk. “You’ll be okay.”
He had to be okay.
She didn’t know what she was going to do if he wasn’t okay.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Juliet asked, her voice neutral, apparently having learned that harping on it would just make him more resistant. She kept putting the clean dishes away, rather than nag at him. He sort of missed the nagging—her concern had been adorable and made him feel all warm and fuzzy. It was possible he’d liked the attention a little too much.
“Bed is boring without you in it,” he grumbled.
