by Lilly Atlas
“Ugh.” She plopped down on the couch as the evening took a turn for the morose. “You had to bring it up, huh? I’d almost forgotten for about six seconds there.”
With a snort, Roxie stuffed a giant spoonful into her mouth. “No, you hadn’t,” she said around her dessert.
No. She hadn’t. Derek had been on her mind every second of the past few days. So much so, Hannah had forced her to go home from work midday. She’d mixed up a window treatment order, returned a call to the wrong client, and dropped a box of paint samples all over the floor. And that was just in the first hour. By noon, Hannah was so tired of putting out fires, she’d shooed Alyssa out the door with orders not to come back until she and Derek talked then had “all kinds of makeup sex.”
About ten times that afternoon, she’d picked up her phone to call Derek then chickened out. He was going through something and needed time to work it out in his mind. Throughout the day, she ran through the gamut of emotions regarding to her husband.
First, she was pissed. Who the hell did he think he was to walk away after she’d dropped the bomb of a possible pregnancy? Then came the guilt. He was struggling, and she needed to support him. And back to anger. Support him? Um, hello? She could use some support as well. In the end, she’d called Roxie who showed up for an impromptu girls’ night. Nothing like chocolate to soothe a battered heart.
Though hours in bed with her husband would have been preferred.
“He’s not dumb, Rox. He’s just acting dumb.”
A very unladylike snort came from Roxie’s chair.
“He’s just finally processing everything that’s happened and it’s hitting him hard.” She’d kept the antibiotic vs birth control contest quiet, not quite ready to talk about it. Every time she thought about bringing it up, her stomach took a nose dive.
Roxie grasped Alyssa’s hand. “I know, hon. And that’s fine. But he’s pushing you away in the process. That’s the dumb part.”
With a sigh, Alyssa nodded. “I know. I’m ninety percent sure he’s going to come to his senses in the next day or two and come home, but that ten percent that’s convinced he’s never coming back to me? Yeah that ten percent is a nasty bitch.”
“Did you just say nasty bitch?” Roxie’s mouth formed a dramatic O. She looked like the startled emoji. “Damn, girl. That’s some serious language for you.”
“Ha, ha. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me, not mocking me?”
Back to her playful self, Roxie laughed. “Sorry, chickie. Hey, is there a reason I’m the only one eating here?”
“Oh!” Alyssa popped up. “Got all distracted with real-life nonsense. Let me get my food.”
Worrisome thoughts invaded Alyssa’s mind. In the kitchen, she propped her hands on the counter and bowed her head, taking a minute to collect herself. Derek would come home soon. He had to. Alyssa wasn’t sure she could make her way through the rest of her life without him. They were a tight team. Or at least they used to be.
He’d be back.
She straightened and snatched the last brownie. After Derek was home and they put this chapter of their lives behind them, she’d revisit Roxie’s relationship. Because there was something amiss there. Something Rox was troubled by. And since Alyssa loved Rox, second only to Derek, she’d figure out what it was and a way to help.
Just as she settled a brownie in the bottom of her bowl, a gasp came from the living room.
“Alyssa?” Roxie’s voice trembled. “You need to get in here, now.”
She frowned and grabbed her bowl before heading back to the living room. Maybe Roxie was ready to talk about whatever was bothering her. “What’s u—”
She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of her husband’s face on the television screen. “What the…”
Roxie stood, her face pale and eyes wide, gaping at the screen. “Lyss,” she said.
“We’re coming to you live outside a convenience store in Adam’s Morgan where reports of a robbery with shots fired are being investigated.” A male reporter’s voice blared through the TV. “We don’t have much information at this point, but what we do know is that the man pictured here, Derek Jackson, a former SEAL and owner of the tattoo shop Trident Ink, just down the block from the convenience store, was shot while trying to disarm the robber.”
A scream ripped from her throat and her legs crumpled. The glass bowl slipped through boneless fingers. It crashed to the wood floor and shattered in a thousand shimmery shards.
“Lyss!” Roxie cried, catching her just as she was about to hit the ground.
“Oh my God, Roxie,” she said as a sob tightened her chest. “I can’t…oh my God I can’t lose him, too.” Tremors wracked her body. The room was suddenly freezing, and she could barely think past the intense pain in her stomach and chest.
“Sweetie, breathe. They said he’s alive and has been taken to the hospital.”
“W-what?” Alyssa’s breath hitched. Her chest felt so tight she could barely suck in air.
“The reporter said he was taken to the hospital.”
“He-he’s alive?” She forced her knees to straighten and keep her upright. “Which hospital?” She grabbed her friend’s shoulders. “Which one, Rox?”
“I don’t know, honey.”
“We have to go. We have to find him. What hospital? Oh God. I can’t drive. I’m shaking too much. You had some wine. Can you drive or have you had too much?”
Suddenly Ginuwine’s Pony rang out through Alyssa’s phone. “Brett,” she said. “It’s Brett.” He’d set the ridiculous ringtone after Magic Mike premiered and he’d bragged that he was both a better dancer and better looking than Channing Tatum.
Alyssa scrambled over to the couch, her heart in her throat and her head full of worst case scenarios. By some miracle, she managed to avoid the glass all over the floor. Her hands shook so bad it took her three tries to swipe the phone open. “Brett? Have you seen the news?”
“He’s alive, Lyss. I was there.”
Her legs went limp again and she collapsed on the couch. Yes, the reporter had stated Derek was alive, but hearing it from Brett finally loosened the knot in her stomach. “Where are they taking him?”
“Washington Hospital Center, sweetie.” Brett’s voice was low, anxious.
“What happened? How bad is it?” She held the phone so tight in her grip she was afraid she’d crack the screen. But her fingers wouldn’t loosen. The cell was her lifeline, her only link to information about her husband.
A sad chuckle left Brett. “You know our boy, Lyss. He’s a born fuckin’ hero. There was a robbery in the store while he was buying something. No way would he not try to intervene. He was seconds away from taking out the robber when another person in the store accidentally alerted the gunman to his presence. He was shot. After that the robber freaked and ran out of the store without any of the money. No one else was hurt.”
Her chin dropped to her chest and tears fell from her eyes. “How bad?” she whispered.
Brett’s swallow was audible. “Not sure, sweetie. They wouldn’t let me ride with him. I’m about ten minutes out from the hospital. Do you need a lift? I can come get you.”
“No. Go to him. I don’t want him alone. Rox is with me. We’ll leave right now.
“Okay, sweetie. He’s one tough bastard and he loves you so much, Lyss. He won’t leave you this way.”
She sobbed out an okay, then disconnected the call.
“Washington Hos—”
“I could hear him. Uber’s on the way. Three minutes out. Here.” Roxie handed Alyssa her shoes and coat. “Let’s go.”
Thank God for Roxie. Alyssa probably would have run out into the thirty-five-degree night in fuzzy slippers and without a coat. Not to mention Uber hadn’t even crossed her mind. Driving would be impossible. She was so freaked out she would be a hazard behind the wheel.
As though on autopilot, she stuffed her feet in her sneakers and arms in the coat. Normally she wouldn’t be caught dead in her
worn out Navy sweatpants and Derek’s mammoth T-shirt, but this was so far from normal, nothing else mattered but getting to Derek.
“Come on, Lyss.” Roxie guided her out the door and to the car waiting in the driveway.
“Washington Hospital Center, right?” the twenty-something female driver asked.
“That’s right,” Roxie said. “Emergency entrance.”
“Gotcha.” The driver shot Alyssa a curious look in the rearview mirror, but kept her curiosity to herself.
There was no better friend than Roxie, who laced her fingers with Alyssa’s and held her hand. She didn’t speak. Didn’t try to make small talk or assure Alyssa all would be well. Because the words would be empty. Neither of them had any clue how the night would play out.
Alyssa stared unseeing out the window as they traveled into the city.
She’d already suffered a devastating loss in her life. Another one couldn’t possibly be in the cards for her, could it?
If Derek died, she’d be left with nothing. No one. She had no family, well none that would accept her, and she wouldn’t go to them anyway. There was Roxie, her sister in all but blood. She’d given Roxie a lot of herself over the years, but not everything. Derek was the only one who’d gotten everything, every little piece of her heart, mind, body, and soul. The only one who would ever get all of her. All her hopes, fears, desires, dreams.
If he died, she’d live out the rest of her life without giving those pieces to anyone ever again. She knew it deep in her bones. She just loved him that much. There just wasn’t enough space in her heart to let another man in.
“Don’t,” Roxie said, squeezing her hand. “Just don’t. We’ll be there in a few minutes and we’ll find out.”
Tears streamed down her face as she swallowed. “I know.”
After another ten minutes, the car came to a halt outside the glaring neon emergency sign at Washington Hospital Center in DC.
“I’m not sure I can get out,” she whispered to Roxie.
Roxie gave her a stern look. “You can, chickie. Your man is waiting for you in there. And I can guarantee he’s going to be a royal ass pain of a patient until you get in there and work your magic on him. In a non-sexual way, of course. Save the sexual healing until after he’s discharged.”
A ghost of a smile tipped Alyssa’s lips. Rox was right. Derek hated to be sick or injured. Saw it as a sign of weakness, and he turned into a growly bear until he felt better.
She could do this. She could get out of the car, walk in the building, and inquire about her husband. She could hear the news—good news or bad. She had to. For him.
Then, she could wrap her arms around him and tell him how much she loved him.
Right before she blasted him for putting himself in danger.
As long as he was still alive.
Chapter Twenty
Alyssa raced down the hallway of the emergency room like the hounds of hell were chasing her. Her unzipped jacket flapped back and forth as her feet pounded the tile floor.
“Two, four…” she mumbled as she streaked past the triage rooms. The moment the bored-looking receptionist informed her Derek was in room eight, Alyssa took off like she’d fired a starting gun in a race, leaving Brett and Roxie in the dust.
She didn’t care. They’d catch up eventually. Her single-minded focus on seeing Derek alive was the only thing that mattered.
“Eight!” she cried as she wrenched the curtain open. Each triage room was separated by actual walls, but only a curtain closed the space off from the hallway.
And there he was. Sitting on a plint, shirt off, pale with dark circles under his eyes, and a bulky bandage over his left deltoid.
“Derek,” she half spoke, half sobbed.
“Hey, baby.” A wry grin lifted his lips and gave his tired face a teasing expression.
She scanned him, taking in every inch, looking for more injuries or signs something greater was wrong. All she saw aside from the shoulder injury was rounded muscles, a broad chest, and yards of colorful ink. Her eyes might have lingered for a second or two too long before returning to his face. It was easy to get lost in all that male perfection.
Especially when it was all for her and only her to enjoy. At least it had been all hers. The trauma of the night eclipsed all her previous worries and relationship concerns. Now that she could see for herself that Derek was alive and mostly unharmed, those anxieties began to come back.
Despite how glad she was to be there, their marriage was still like an overfilled balloon. For the past couple days, it felt as though at any second the entire thing would explode.
“Ahh, you must be Mrs. Jackson,” a woman said from the corner of the room, making Alyssa jump. She’d been so zeroed on Derek, she hadn’t noticed the short, curvy nurse in bright teal scrubs scanning medication packets with a handheld scanner attached to the wall computer.
“Um, yes, Alyssa,” she replied. “How is he?”
“I’m fine,” Derek said in the typical macho way he had. Once, a few years ago, he’d had a cough that was “fine” and remained fine for weeks on end while he got sicker and sicker, until Alyssa finally forced him to see his physician. Turned out to be a severe case of pneumonia, which landed him right in this very hospital for three days.
Stubborn alpha man.
“I didn’t ask you, Der, I asked your nurse.”
The nurse chuckled and shifted her long red braid, so it hung over her right shoulder. “I’m Nancy and I’ve been Derek’s nurse since he was brought in here. For the most part he’s right, he’s fine, or at least he will be.”
Derek smirked at him and she resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the infuriating man.
“The bullet wound is just a deep graze that looks much more impressive than it really is. He didn’t even loose much blood. We cleaned it and stitched him up. That arm will be sore for a few days and he’ll probably have a scar, but that’s the worst of it.”
“Oh thank God,” Alyssa said. “Can he leave tonight?”
“Well, we’re going to keep him overnight.”
Alyssa’s eyes flew to Derek’s. He didn’t look remotely concerned, but then it could just be that macho bull crap again. “Overnight? How come?”
“He lost consciousness at the scene, which is what really had paramedics concerned. Luckily, he wasn’t out for more than a few minutes, and he has a mild concussion. We’d like to keep him for one night, just to observe, and if all goes well he’ll be released late morning.”
“It’s ridiculous. I’m fine. I barely even have a headache.” Derek scowled at the nurse, who just raised an eyebrow.
“Nice try, Mr. Jackson, but I’ve been working here for fifteen years. Takes a lot more than a growl and a frown to intimidate me.”
Despite the tears of relief that filled Alyssa’s eyes, she chuckled. “You’ll do exactly what they tell you or you’ll answer to me.”
The half smile he sent her was sad.
For a moment, they seemed so much like their old selves. The back and forth so familiar and comforting. But nothing was fixed. This was just a momentary break from the strain.
“Here’s some pain medication, Mr. Jackson.” Nancy handed him a small cup with three pills. “There’s also an antibiotic in there.”
After Derek swallowed the pills, the nurse nodded at him. “If there isn’t anything else you need, I’ll leave you two alone and see about getting you admitted to a room for the night.”
“Thank you,” Derek said.
As soon as she stepped out and closed the curtain the tension in the room thickened. Alone with Derek for the first time since she’d let him know her birth control might be ineffective, and he’d walked out, Alyssa had no idea how to act. No clue what to say.
The combination of intense relief that he wasn’t severely injured combined with lingering adrenaline from those long moments not knowing if he was okay and the uncertainty of their status had her head spinning and tears leaking from her eyes.
All she wanted was to run to him, burrow into his warmth and strength and just erase the past few weeks. Well, the past couple years if she was really asking for a do over.
Instead, she just stood there with her arms lip at her sides, and tears streaming down her face. Despite being only three feet away from the man she loved more than anything in the world, she’d never felt more alone.
A bullet wound was nothing compared to the sight of Alyssa’s tears. Combined with the horrible feeling of tension in the room and all he wanted to do was scoop her up, run home, and never let her leave his arms.
But that wouldn’t solve anything. It would be a Band-Aid on a blast injury. With nothing but a curtain separating them from the rest of the hospital as well as some powerful pain pills beginning to course through his system, this was neither the time nor the place to delve into their issues.
So that left them staring at each other not having a clue how to proceed. He might as well just say what was in the front of his mind.
“I want to come home. To the house. When they discharge me.”
Her mouth opened then closed then opened again. “Okay,” she said. His poor wife looked about as frazzled as he’d ever seen her. Strands of long blond hair had slipped out of her messy bun and hung around her face. Some of her eye makeup had run and rimmed her eyes, giving her a racoonish appearance he’d never admit to noticing. Her jacket hung off one shoulder and she appeared to be wearing his giant shirt, sweats, and some fancy ankle boot things.
He couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful woman. He should have told her, but it was as though he’d forgotten how to talk to her, how to connect.
She might be pregnant.
Standing there in front of him in that moment she might very well be carrying their child. Last time he’d thought of it, panic had tripped his throat like it was trying to strangle him. Now, he felt a flicker of excitement.
A baby.
They’d always wanted more kids, it just hadn’t happened and then…
