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Lucas sat still for a moment, then shook his head no.
The doctor asked him more questions, checked his incisions, and checked his range of motion with his shoulder. Lucas got lucky. Since Greyson was dying when he brought the knife down, it went in at an angle, avoiding the artery that ran down his shoulder by a millimeter. He was sore and not able to move it much, but the doctor didn’t seem to be worried. He was barely an hour out of his coma.
After the doctor left, I sat on the bed beside Lucas and just stared at him. He looked tired and haggard, had dark circles under his eyes, and his facial hair had grown out. He was the most beautiful anything I’d ever seen. His eyes roamed my face, trying to look his fill. He cleared his throat and said, “You… came back… for… me.”
“I did. I had to. I knew you needed me.”
“Stubborn,” he said with a small smile.
I snickered. “I’ll take that. When you’re better, I’ll give you shit about sending me away. For now, get some rest. I’ll call your family and let them know you’re awake.” He nodded, and I kissed his lips. He was drifting off before I stepped into the hallway to call his—no,our—family.
Chapter21
Lucas
Learning I was in a coma for two weeks was a hard pill to swallow. I didn’t remember anything. The last thing I remembered was thinking I saw an angel. It turned out that was Tristan coming to my rescue after he killed Greyson. I still couldn’t wrap my mind around that. I never wanted him involved in anything that had to do with the case. I sent him away so the case wouldn’t touch him, but had he not done what he did, I wouldn’t be alive. I was wrestling with my feelings on the situation, and I didn’t know how I felt.
Santana came in to give me an update on Billings. She made it through but had severe physical and psychological wounds. Wounds that they didn’t know how she would recover from. She trusted a medical professional with all of her secrets, and he used them against her to try to end her life. For now, she was with her sister and brother, getting around-the-clock care courtesy of the FBI. She was unable to return to active service and said even if she could, she wouldn’t. Just like me, she was done. I let Santana know I would be leaving the Bureau. After the case and almost being murdered, I couldn’t do it anymore. I didn’t want my future to be filled with murder and catching criminals. I wanted to help people, yes, but I couldn’t handle any more death.
“I understand,” he responded, taking a seat in one of the chairs near my bed. “I get it. I do. I think if anything like this had happened to me, I would want out. Let me know if you need anything from me. I’ll help as much as I can.”
Momma and Pop fussed over me so much. They put all of their business ventures on hold so they could rent a home on a short-term lease nearby. Cass burned up her PTO so she could stay with them. Any other time, I would have been upset about all the attention and them putting their lives on hold for me, but I was heartened to know they were close by and safe, even if I couldn’t remember much of their stay here.
A few days after I woke up and was feeling up to talking more than sleeping, Momma and Pop came to visit while Tristan went to their place to shower and catch a nap. Something he’d started doing now that I was awake and the doctors were sure I wouldn’t slip back into a coma. I had to beg him to do that in the first place. He was so stubborn.
Momma bustled about, tucking in my blanket and fluffing my pillows while Pop sat in the chair next to me and rubbed his hands together nervously. He had a look on his face like he wanted to say something but didn’t know where to start. I raised an eyebrow, letting him know I was listening, and he took a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face.
“Son, we know what’s going on with you and Tristan.” That was a shock, but it also wasn’t. I knew Cassie knew, but she wouldn’t tell our parents, leaving that up to Tristan or me. But I was sure the fact that he refused to leave my bedside was a dead giveaway. “And I have to let you know… he’s my son, too, and I love him. If you hurt him, you and I will have to have words. You hear me?”
Definitely not what I was expecting. That drew a laugh out of me that had me holding my stomach, feeling like I busted my stitches. I waved Momma away when she tried to check on me and got myself under control. When I stopped laughing, I peered over at Pop, and his face was deadly serious. I knew he loved Tristan, but this proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I won’t hurt him, Pop. I… I love him,” I told him honestly.
Nodding his head, he seemed content with my short answer. “That boy has been through enough. He needs people who are going to love him. Me and your mother love him. Cassie loves him. So if you’re not for real, tell him now.”
“I’m for real about him. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Hell, he’s the reason I’m alive. But that’s not why I love him. I told him before you guys left, so it’s not hero worship. It’s real.”
Momma rubbed my arm and kissed my cheek. “I’m so glad. You’re both good men. You both deserve to be happy. I know it’s not the most appropriate place, lecturing you while you’re in the hospital, fresh from a coma, but you know your father. When he needs to say his piece, he does. I tried to tell him to wait, but…” she trailed off, raising her hands as if to say, “What can you do?”
“It’s fine, Momma. I know you guys are coming from a good place, but you don’t need to worry. I won’t do anything to hurt him, just like I know he won’t do anything to hurt me. I have a feeling Pop already threatened Tris too. Right?” I cocked a brow at him, and he had the nerve to look sheepish. I shook my head and laughed more lightly than I did the first time, having learned my lesson.
A week after I woke from my coma, I started physical therapy for my shoulder. It would be a long road until I was back to normal if I got there at all. The physical therapist told me that an injury like mine had a tendency to build up scar tissue that would limit my mobility if I didn’t work it often. He said best-case scenario, I would get similar range of motion with some limitations. I didn’t mind that. I was sure it would take some getting used to, but I had all my limbs intact, so I wouldn’t complain. Billings lost a hand and a foot. She would have to relearn to walk and do basic daily functions with the prostheses. Me learning how to move my arm and keeping it worked out was easy compared to that.
Every step of the way, Tristan was there. He stayed at the hospital all day, but I convinced him to go to my parents’ house to sleep every night. He had stood vigil over me long enough. I was awake, and I was fine. He deserved to sleep comfortably now instead of on that thin cot they rolled in for him.
We talked about a lot when he came by. He didn’t give me shit for sending him away like he said he would, but he did tell me he wished he would have stayed with me. That way, we could have stopped Greyson before anything happened, and he wouldn’t have had to kill him. Even though Greyson was a sadistic murderer, Tristan wasn’t doing well, having taken his life. He had been working with a therapist from the Bureau, one who had a more extensive background check, thanks to Santana. He was doing better than the first few days, where he said he had bad nightmares, but he had a long way to get back to one hundred percent mentally. We all told him what he did was necessary, and he believed it, but it didn’t make it any easier. I understood that.
One day, we were sitting in the room after my physical therapy appointment when the doctor came in wearing a big smile. “Good news, Agent Blackwell.”
“Just Lucas,” I reminded him for the millionth time.
“Good news, Lucas. We’ve got the results from your latest labs and imaging, and you’ve got a clean bill of health. Physical therapy has cleared you as well, so if it’s agreeable with you, we can discharge you tomorrow.”
“Fuc… I mean, yes, it’s agreeable with me. I think I’ve had enough of looking at these four walls to last me a lifetime. No offense, Doc, but I kinda never want to see you again.”
He gave me a deep belly laugh. “No offense taken, Lucas. We’ll get your physical therapist to come up here and give you some instructions and your future appointment times. And tomorrow morning, we’ll have you out of here.”
“Thank you.” I leaned forward and offered my hand, and he took it.
“Mr. Michaels,” he said and shook Tristan’s hand as well.
