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Drake barks out another laugh, the sound arrowing straight for my gut. “Skip over the reckless driving,” he teases. “I see how it is in this family of heathens.”
She’s been awake for a mere minute, but already, her eyes gloss over with exhaustion. “He’s a charmer. A man who flirts with your mom is either the perfect man or big trouble.”
“He’s the second,” I murmur quietly. I match her waning energy and lower my voice. “He’s definitely the second.”
“There’s no in-between,” she yawns. “He’s not the boring, middle-of-the-road, history major kind.”
“I prefer to make history,” Drake smarts. But he reads the room and gentles his tone. “Like to bring my friends along for the ride, too. It’s way more fun that way.”
Mom licks her dry lips and smiles. But her hand grows heavier in mine. Her palm caressing my cheek would fall away if not for mine holding hers up. “Making history is life’s greatest honor, Aurora.” She lets her eyes flicker closed, but she fortifies her hand, to let me know she’s not ready to let me go. “Who is he really?”
“He’s a cop.” I whisper now, leaning in to rest my cheek on her chest. “He promises to protect me forever, Mom.”
“Forever?” she sighs. A knock at the door brings Drake’s back straight. But I focus on my mother. We have minutes left together before she’s out again. Maybe onlyoneminute. Singular. And I’m not willing to trade it for someone else.
Not even for a gunman who may or may not have found me.
“Forever,” I repeat, as Drake stands and stalks across the room. “He’s the most protective person I’ve ever met in my life.”
“It’s time to go.” As Drake inches the door open, I recognize Archer Malone’s voice. “There was a multi-car accident a couple blocks down that’s gonna fill this hospital’s ER in the next twenty minutes. Too many people, Banks. Too much noise. We can’t protect her when this place fills.”
“Alright.” He breathes out a sigh that speaks of exhaustion. Maybe sadness. Then he adds, “Give us two.”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. Or permission. He merely closes the door with a gentle snick and comes to stand on my left. I guess I expected him to take his seat again. Or at the very least, to go to the other side of the bed. So when his hand cups the back of my neck and his fingers squeeze gently, I jump in place and sniffle when I realize tears blur my eyes.
“It’s time to go, Little Bird.” His voice is raspy and dry. Caring and so sweet. “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer.”
“Yeah.” I sniff again and push up straight to take my weight off Mom’s chest. I swipe my cheeks and clear away the mess, and though Drake’s thumb strokes the side of my neck, softer than the brush of a baby bird’s wings, I don’t freak out at his touch. I don’t push him away or lose my mind wondering how I make him stop.
Any other man, whether he was my boyfriend or merely a friend, I would flick his hand away and tell him to keep it to himself.Or else. But my soul doesn’t reject Drake’s gentle touch. My heart doesn’t yearn for alone-ness. It’s so odd to me, but then again, it’s been this way since we met and he sat in my hospital room months ago.
While I slept, he kept watch.
While I laid awake, he kept watch.
And now, while I mourn my mother and hide from a gunman, he keeps watch.
“I’ll come see you again, okay Mom?” I kiss her forehead and extricate my hand from hers. Her fingers tangle with mine and seek to hold on, but I work carefully and set her palm against her chest. Then swallowing the emotion lodged in my throat, I grieve Drake’s hand when it drops away to leave me be. Though I spy a pen and paper on Mom’s bedside table, so with a new idea, and a new thing to occupy my mind, I scoop both up and write a fast, “I love you so much. Stop flirting with the cops. You’re too beautiful for me to compete with. I’ll call you later.”
I set the paper down with a smile and blush a little warmer when Drake leans across to read it. I’m joking of course. The purpose of my brief letter, I hope, is to remind her I was here when she wakes. To bring back a positive memory, and maybe spur her to call me to talk a little more.
Placing the pen on top and one last kiss on her brow, I stand tall again and turn to grab my cane. “I’m ready to go,” I murmur. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” He looks me up and down, I guess to check I am, in fact, ready to move. Then he turns to the door and inches it open. “Coming out.”
Archer repeats, “We’re moving,” to someone. Maybe into his radio. The latter is confirmed when voices crackle back. Some discuss “the package,” which, I guess, is me. While others speak of the accident rolling into the emergency room downstairs. “Fletch?”
“I’m at the elevator,” he responds. “It’s secure and ready to go.”
“Alright.” Drake scoops his hand around my arm and leads me out of the room. Babies cry in the distance, reminding me we’re in the maternity ward, and people line the walls. Some cops. Some nurses. Archer and Officer Clay stride ahead of us, while a second set of officers takes up our flanks. But it’s Drake’s presence I focus on the most. His firm hand, holding part of my weight to make my steps easier. My cane clap-groaning against the floor with every step I take. Radios crackle, and though everyone inmyworld is focused on me and this procession along the hall, everyone else’s worlds progress outside of us.
Moms are wheeled from delivery suites and into their rooms for recovery. New dads, nervous and a little shaky in their fresh reality, wander in shocked amazement. Phones trill, and perhaps, just maybe, one of the victims of the car accident in town is pregnant, because tensions grow a little thicker as the phones ring and attendants answer them.
“Elevator one,” Archer murmurs. Not into the radio. Not for the whole team of officers to know. But just for us. “Two is in use. Three is unsecured.”
“We’re taking three.” Drake drags me right just a beat before Archer and Clay step left. “Eyes open.” He tells them. “Fletcher, you’re driving. I don’t want any fuckery once we’re down.”
“Roger that.” He claps his hand over the sensors on Door Three to keep them open and follows us in as Drake pulls me to the back. Archer and Clay follow in next. Then hitting theclose doorbutton while the remaining two officers stay outside, Fletcher selects the underground parking lot and un-holsters his gun like he knows something bad is coming.
