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“Shh, angel. Shh. Don’t cry. I’m okay,” I murmur into her neck.
Honestly, I don’t know if I’m telling the truth, but as long as we’re together, I don’t care.
“It’s your baby.” She sniffles, wiping at her eyes. “She’s making me cry over the smallest things… not that you finally waking up is small. God, I’m so happy!”
More tears flow, and she tightens her hold on me, making me wince in pain. She eases up immediately, and when I catch my breath, I can’t help but correct her. “Or him.”
“What?” she hiccups.
“You said she’s making you cry… it could behimmaking you cry.”
That makes her laugh, that sound by far the best medicine. She lovingly cradles my face in her good hand, and I lean more into her touch.
“I was so afraid to lose you,” she admits, tearing up afresh. “I love you so much. Having you torn away from me… everything seemed empty and pointless,” she rambles, her eyes shining with so much love.
I reach for her, needing to touch her, needing that physical confirmation that we’re both okay.
“Hey, nothing can keep me away from you… not even death. No matter what life throws at us—sorrow, heartache or joy and laughter, we will face it together. Me by your side, you by mine, holding each other’s hand, being home in each other’s arms.”
Her smile is bright, lighting up her entire face. It’s contagious.
And then, as if unable to contain her emotions any longer, she bends down and kisses me with a passion that ignites a fire within me.
I drink in her taste, her scent, her warmth… everything that she is.
The pain in my body fades into insignificance. It doesn’t matter. Not when I’m holding my angel in my arms.
Damn being confined to this bed. I need more of her.
But all too soon she pulls back, caressing my face with her fingertips.
My eyes are drawn for the first time to her left arm. It’s in a sling, her forearm supported in a splint.
“Why wasn’t another plaster fitted to your fractured arm?” I ask, wondering who took care of her after I passed out.
Her gaze follows mine, and she stares at her arm.
“Do you remember what happened?” Ella asks, her voice soft.
My heart skips a beat, and the memory floods back with vivid clarity. The deafening sound of the gunshot, that heart-stopping moment when pure terror gripped me like a vise, fearing the bullet would hit her.
My instincts took over. The only thing on my mind was her safety. With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed her to the ground, covering her body with mine to shield her, every fiber of my being dedicated to protecting her and our baby.
“Yeah, I remember,” I reply, my voice strained with anger. “Were you and the baby checked after I blacked out? Why didn’t they replaster your arm?”
“Dr. Smith looked me over while you were in surgery. The baby is fine,” she assures me. “The bullet grazed my arm, leaving an open wound. It has to heal first before I can get another plaster.”
Knowing she was cared for appeases my simmering fury. Someone tried to mess with us… again.
It’s unacceptable.
But it’s not something to dwell on.
New tears gather in my angel’s eyes. “You saved my life,” she whispers, her voice choked. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead now.”
I thread my fingers through her hair. Ignoring the pain shooting to every part of my body, I pull her face to mine, connecting our foreheads.
“I vowed to protect you… always. And I will. Don’t you get it, angel? You’re everything to me. I’d do anything for you… even die.”
