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That stopped now.
“What can I do?” she asked.
The nurse shrugged. “Sit with him. Hold his hand. Talk to him.”
“Even though he can’t hear me?”
“On some level, I think he can. He’ll feel you. If there’s a TV show he likes, play it. If there’s a book he enjoys, read it to him. Pray for him.”
“I will. Thank you.”
It struck Brea that she knew Pierce on an almost painfully intimate level as a man—his scent, his kiss, his growl when he found pleasure—but she knew almost nothing about him as a person. She didn’t know his TV preferences or reading habits. Did he have any food allergies? Weird quirks? She’d never asked about his past, his hopes, his concerns. They’d never discussed his politics, his religion, or his beliefs.
That realization left her feeling ashamed and distressed. She hadn’t taken the time to learn him before allowing their incendiary chemical attraction to overwhelm her good sense. And now she might never have the chance to learn the real, true Pierce Walker.
Something else to mourn.
She reached for his big hand. It, too, was bruised. And battered. But she held it between hers and closed her eyes, feeling tears burn down her cheeks. “You’re not alone anymore. I’m here.”
No response. Not that she’d expected one. But she’d wanted it. She’d wanted the miracle. Some foolish part of her had hoped that she could heal him with her caring and her touch.
Cutter dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t lose faith.”
He was right. This was the real world. The miracle would be Pierce surviving.
She met his glance. “I’ll keep praying.”
“I’ve never known anyone with a bigger heart. I don’t know everything he did to you—”
“Don’t.” She couldn’t talk about that night with Cutter. “Not now.”
He held up his hands. “I won’t. But your capacity to forgive is humbling.”
Pierce had done nothing that required forgiveness, and she didn’t want to waste the energy defending him now when he needed her more. “It isn’t.”
Because she hadn’t forgiven herself for being human, for being weak in the face of temptation. But in some ways, she’d cast Pierce into the role of her personal Satan. It had been so easy to believe he’d lured her with his attention, his masculinity, his sexuality. He might have seduced her…but she had let him. And deep down, she’d blamed him. He had taken her breath away. He had overwhelmed her.
It had been so unfair. Pierce hadn’t done anything except be himself. Acknowledging that painful truth made her want to cry. She needed to accept the blame for her own actions—and not let well-meaning people like Cutter and Daddy tell her she was too good to be at fault.
She would also have to decide what—if anything—came next for her and Pierce.
But the days of turning her back on him simply because she didn’t have the strength to confront her own moral fragility were over.
“Would you mind leaving me alone with him?”
Cutter hesitated. “Are you sure?”
That she was ready to handle this, no. But she needed to. “Yes.”
“All right. I’ll, um, get us a motel room and wait there until I hear from you.”
She nodded absently, then scanned him. “Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah. And I’ll be one-hundred percent after some food, a shower, and a nap.”
“Thank you.” She fished her car keys out of her purse and handed them over. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.”
“All right.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Bye.”
“Bye,” she called after him. As the sound of his footfalls grew fainter, she took Pierce’s hand again and let her tears fall. “I came as quickly as I could. Oh, Pierce… My gosh. I can’t even imagine how much you’ve suffered. You’re probably not aware I’m here, and it’s not much, but I’ll stay by your side. I’ll hold your hand. Together, we’ll do everything we can to make sure you pull through.”
Hours passed. She prayed and prayed. Nurses came in to check his vitals, draw blood, and change his sheets. She flipped channels on the TV until she found a sports station she hoped he might like. The shadows coming through the windows lengthened. She’d nodded off in her chair once or twice but awakened with his hand still in hers.
Early in the evening, the doctor came by to check on him. He glanced at Pierce’s chart, studied his progress, then ordered more tests. As the orderlies took him away, she squeezed his hand, then glanced at the clock. It was nearly six in the evening. She hadn’t eaten all day.
After a quick call to Cutter, he picked her up and took her to a nearby diner, where she devoured everything on her plate. At the motel room, she took a shower, then fell onto one of the two beds for a long nap. Cutter grumbled when she asked him to take her back to the hospital alone, but he did it.
