Wait, if I’m injured…
Does that mean…
What about Dex?
Did Paul shoot him?
Frantically, I search the faces around me.
Sammy, Mom, Ryan, Jordan, Skye, Jamie…I lose track after that as person after person I love crams into the room in a way I’m sure the hospital frowns upon.
Except…
Where’s Dex?
Justin and Dad also aren’t here, but I’ll worry about them later. Right now I need eyes on Dex.
The heart monitor starts beeping out of control as my panic starts to climb.
Where is he?
Why isn’t he here?
Did Paul shoot him?
Dex. Dex. Dex.
Beep-beep-beep.
“Madz, calm down.”
I think it’s Mom who tries to get me to do so, but I can’t.
Dex. Dex. Dex.
Beep-beep-beep.
“D—” My throat is sore and my voice comes out all scratchy, so I clear it and try again. “Dex?”
“He’s gone,” Ryan answers.
NO!
No. No. No. No. No.
Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep.
No, he can’t be.
Paul killed him?
Dex. Dex. Dex.
Beep-beep-beep.
“What?” I cry.
No. No. No.
Beep-beep-beep.
I can’t have lost him.
“Paul killed him?” I barely manage to get the question out as I fear giving voice to my greatest fear will make it true.
“What? No.” The voices from around the room answer all at once.
“You said he was gone,” I say to Ryan.
“Jesus, Madz.” He runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I didn’t mean gone gone. I just meant gone from the room.”
“Hook.” I try to shout, but my throat feels like it was scraped with razor blades. I don’t care about the pain. I need him. “Hook! Hook!”
Tears stream down my face and the heart monitor beeps out of control while I continue to yell for Dex.
Then finally, finally, coming in behind a doctor in dark blue scrubs and a white lab coat, rushing into the room, he’s there, filling the doorway with his large form.
The doctor is all “What’s going on here?” and “You can’t all be in the room at once!” but I don’t hear a word because I’m too busy trying to read the deadened expression on Dex’s handsome face.
“Guys, let’s give them a minute,” Jordan says.
“We can check back after the doctor does her exam,” Mom adds.
Dex turns to leave, and I rush to say, “Not you, Hook.”
I spot Peggy hovering behind him as he shifts so the others can exit the room, and thankfully, he stays.
He stands in the corner, arms crossed with eyes that might as well be rock there’s so little emotion in them. He watches the doctor run through taking my vitals and checking the wound underneath the bandage.
She tells me I was shot in the shoulder, I had to have surgery to repair the damaged artery, and they have me on antibiotics to treat possible infections. I have months of PT ahead of me, but I’m lucky I survived the blood loss.
Despite the headache raging in my skull, I decline the offer for more painkillers. I have a feeling I’m going to need all my wits about me to handle Broody McBrooderson in the corner.
“Hook—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I’m confused.
“Don’t call me Hook.
I give him a Really? look, but my head hurts too much to hold it long.
“First you’re all Call me Hook and now you don’t want me to?” I go for a hint of humor to cut through the forcefield he is trying to put up around himself.
“I don’t deserve to be your Hook anymore.”
Lord give me strength, I don’t have it in me to deal with stupid right now.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m the reason you’re in that bed.” He stabs a finger at where I’m propped up by flat hospital pillows.
“Yeah, you are.” His shoulders fall and his head drops forward. It’s like I’m watching Jake and Jordan’s bouncy house deflate when we pull the plug. “If it weren’t for you, God knows where I could have ended up with Paul.”
Dex’s dark gaze snaps to mine, and I suck in a breath at the spark of hope in them.
“If not for you putting that tracker on me, Paul could have had us anywhere before you figured out he was the stalker.”
“I should have seen it coming.”
How? None of us did. He was hiding like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, right under all our noses.
“Why?”
“Because.”
That’s it. That’s all he offers as an explanation.
“Justin didn’t suspect him—why should you have?” I try again.
“Because.”
Ugh! Where’s my taser when I need it?
“Stop blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault, Hook.”
“Maddey—”
“No.” I slash a hand through the air, the IV pulling enough to make me wince.
Dex closes the distance faster than a man of his size should be able to, taking my hand in his and inspecting where the needle pierces. Satisfied I didn’t cause myself any more bodily harm, he drops it—much to my disappointment.
“You are not the reason that lead to me needing to be in this bed.”
“You were shot, Maddey.”
“Were you the one who shot me?” I arch a brow, every one of the voices in my head crossing their arms and tapping a foot since I can’t.
“No, but Maddey—”
“Stop calling me Maddey. I’m Tink.” This time I ignore the pull as I point to my chest then thrust my arm out at Dex. “And you’re Hook.”
“Mad—”
“What did I fucking say?” I’m about to lose my shit in the most epic, red-faced Tinker Bell tantrum ever to be had. “Tinker Bell.” My thumb bends from the force of me putting it on my chest before I point at him again. “Captain Hook.”
The IV loses the battle against me throwing my arm out all willy-nilly and warmth trickles down my wrist, but I ignore it. I’m too fucking pissed off to be concerned about blood. The good doctors replaced what I lost, so I have some to spare while I set this stubborn idiot straight.
“Do you need me to speak in terms you understand? Should you and I complete our own AAR?”
There’s the teeniest, tiniest tilt to his lips at the mention of the after action reports the SEALs fill out after missions. Navy brat for the win.
“How did I get shot?”
“Maddey.”
I growl. Like legit growl.
There’s another flicker of a lip tilt, but all amusement fades again as he tracks the red spot forming on my blankets from the stream dripping off my arm.
“How…did I…get shot?”
He still doesn’t answer. Instead he grabs a handful of paper towels and applies pressure to the puncture site.
“Tell me what happened.” I need him to say out loud that he didn’t shoot me. Even though the details are fuzzy for me, I know he didn’t, but it’s him who needs reminding of the fact.
“Paul threatened to shoot me,” he answers, almost reluctantly.