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Tyler
My eyes flutter, opening briefly to register daylight and then closing again. I can hear the soft hum of a machine and what sounds like beeping, but I can’t figure out what it is.
I try to lift my hand, but it feels so heavy that I attempt to kick my leg instead. It feels like something is holding me down.
My eyes feel heavy. I try to open them again, but I feel myself being pulled back into a deep sleep I can’t fight.
I haveno idea how long I’ve been asleep, but finally, my eyelids shoot open today. I blink several times, glancing around the room and realizing I’m in a hospital bed.
Memories come flooding back to me: Trent bent over me, screaming my name. Someone yelling to call 911 as my body grew colder, and then, finally, the sound of a helicopter approaching in the distance.
I stir, moving my legs. I feel a warm pressure on my hand. I look down my body and there’s Brooklyn, hunched over my bed, her face pressed against my hand as she’s fast asleep. My heart aches to see her like this. It’s evident she’s been here as long as I have. I reach my other hand across my body, twisting and wincing in pain as I glance over to my left shoulder where heavy bandages hide the bullet wound.
“Baby?” I run my fingers over her hair. “Baby, you need to eat and sleep in a proper bed.”
Her eyes open, shifting to look up at me, then they close again. A second later, her head shoots upward. She’s clearly in disbelief.
“You’re awake!” She stands up, her chair scooting back with the movement. “Oh my God, you’re awake,” she says as tears take over.
I can’t help but laugh at how disheveled she is. “I’m okay, sweetheart. Why are you crying?”
She doesn’t answer me; her emotions are running too high. She climbs into the bed with me and softly lays her body against mine.
“Well, look who’s awake this morning.” A tall doctor walks into my room, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he grabs the chart off the bed. “How are you feeling today, Tyler? You aware of what happened to you?”
“I am.” I wince a little as Brooklyn removes herself from my bed and takes a seat in the chair. “I mean, I guess I’m aware I got shot.”
The doc nods, not looking up from his chart. “Seems that way. So we were able to remove the bullet fairly easily. No major arteries were hit, and it barely missed your clavicle, which is always preferred . . . no bone fragments.”
“They catch the son of a bitch?” I laugh.
“That’s a question for the sheriff.” The doc doesn’t seem amused. He makes a few notes on the chart then clips it back to the bed. “We’ll keep you for one more night, then you’ll be on your way, Mr. Slade.” He walks to the door and turns back around. “You’ve got a good wife there. She never left your side.”
I thank him then turn to Brook. “Hey, wife.”
“Hey,” she smiles, but her eyes are still sad. “How are you feeling?”
“Can’t complain, especially after taking a bullet to the chest. But more importantly, how are you feeling? Are you okay? Have you eaten?”
“I’m okay. Yes, I ate. Trent has brought me food and has been texting me nonstop.”
“So what happened? I know we were looking for those poachers, and next thing I know, I’m down on my back.”
Brook starts to speak, then stops, looking up to the ceiling to blink away tears. “Um, yeah, it was—” She can’t fight the tears and they begin to fall. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were dead. I thought—”
“Shhh, come here.”
She crawls back up into my bed and lies beside me.
I’m almost asleep again when I hear rustling in the hallway outside my room and my mother’s voice. “He’s awake? Is he talking?”
I crack one eye open just as my mom, dad, and Trent come into the room. My mom’s hands are covering her mouth as she also begins to cry.
My mom and Brooklyn spend the next 30 minutes crying over what could have happened, while my dad and Trent try unsuccessfully to get them to stop fixating on that and focus on the fact that I’ll be damn near perfect in a week.
“The sheriff been here yet?” my dad asks.
“No. What’s he going to tell me?”
