“Can’t that spiel wait?” The female doctor scowled. “He’s just woken up from surgery. He won’t be walking anywhere.”
I swallowed again against the wildfire in my throat. I didn’t care about me. I was irrelevant. “My daughter. Where’s Olive?”
The doctor patted my hand, careful not to bump the IV line disappearing into my vein. “Your daughter is fine. She was kept overnight for observation. You can see her later.”
“No visitors.” The cop frowned.
“He can see his daughter, for crying out loud. She’s screaming blue murder to make sure he’s okay. If you won’t let him see her for his sake, then do it for the child’s. She’s been through enough.”
I didn’t know who this woman was, but I liked her immensely.
A flood of gratefulness and fresh agony gushed through me. “Is...is Olin Moss okay?”
The woman nodded. “Fine. Both are fine.”
I had so many questions, but they scattered the moment I tried to move and my side felt like hungry wolves shredding my innards. “Holy—”
“Ah, yes. Don’t move if you don’t have to.” She lowered her voice, shooting a look at the lurking cop before focusing on me. “You sustained a gunshot wound to the back. The bullet didn’t cause excessive damage, going in clean and causing a large but manageable puncture wound upon exit. The good news is, it didn’t hit anything vital. Far enough away from your organs to go clean through you.”
I blinked. “I bled a lot.”
“You did. You needed a transfusion.” Turning to the cop, she snipped. “Can my patient have some privacy please?”
His eyes narrowed. “He’s under arrest. He doesn’t get privacy.”
“What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“He’s guilty of murder.”
I flinched.
Before, I’d been willing to pay the price, but now sick worry filled me.
Will they take Olive away?
How could I be such a fucking idiot not to think of that?
Fear landed like a landslide on my chest.
I’d only just gotten her back.
I wouldn’t survive losing her again.
Losing Olin again.
You lost O a long time ago.
The doctor’s tone softened as she did her best to ignore the unwanted visitor in the room. “Do you remember arriving in the emergency room? We did a CT scan before surgery to ensure there were no internal injuries.”
I frowned. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s okay.” She smiled. “The complicated jargon can wait. For now, the abbreviated version is, you’ll live. You’ve been stitched up and responded well to treatment. You’ll be in a fair amount of pain for a few days, but then it will ease, and healing will accelerate.”
Days?
I didn’t want to be in here for days.
I wanted to be with Olive.
I needed to talk to O.
You leave this bed, and you’re in prison.
Either way, I would be kept away from the people I needed the most.
Shit.
A lash of agony ripped up my back. I sucked in a breath, shifting on the bed.
“We’ll leave you to rest.” The doctor patted my hand again. “Sleep. Heal. I’ll answer any questions you may have when you’re a little more comfortable.”
I resisted the urge to capture her wrist, asking, “Can I see my daughter?” I needed to see her with my own eyes. To touch her. Kiss her. To never let her go again.
“Soon.” She backed away from the bed, eyeballing the cop to leave too. “Rest first. I’ll bring her to you in a bit.”
I wanted to argue, but sudden tiredness hung off my eyelashes, dragging them down. I felt cold and strange—as if the foreign blood in my veins poisoned me from the inside out.
I couldn’t fight the sinking.
I lost the fight.
I slept.
* * * * *
“No! I want to see him. I need to make sure he’s okay. Daddy! Dad! Popeye!”
My eyes wrenched open, my heart galloping at the sound of Olive’s shout. Jack-knifing upright, I forgot too late about my stitched together side.
I groaned in pain as I lay back down, a prickle of sweat breaking out all over me.
The heart-rate monitor went berserk, and the sounds of angry officers threaded with the melodic calm of O’s gentle tone. I couldn’t hear what she said, but after a minute of whispered argument, the door cracked open and Olive bowled inside.
“Dad!”
I braced myself for her hug. Ready to hide my agony from her at all costs. My arms spread as she launched against the bed, her face landing on my stomach and arms around my hips. “You’re alive!”
It fucking hurt.
Everything fucking hurt.
My body screamed to push her away, but my heart would never do such a thing. My heart hurt worse than any physical form.
I’d failed this perfect creature.
I could never fix what’d happened.
I clutched her so damn close, suffocating her into me. I stroked her soft, silky hair, squeezing my eyes from suspicious, stupid tears.
The luxury of touching her.
The privilege of having her back in my embrace.
Fuck.
I didn’t care I was bankrupt, full of holes, and other people’s blood.
I didn’t even care I wasn’t a free man anymore.
All that mattered was Olive was safe.
Finally.
Swallowing back heavy gratitude, I pulled her away so I could see her pretty face. “Hey, Olive Oyl. You okay?” Nudging her chin up, I smiled as her huge, gorgeous grey eyes met mine. I’d long ago stopped comparing her eyes to her mother’s. In Jane Tallup, the grey had been evil and flat. In Olive, the colour was pure and wholesome. I loved the soft shade. I loved how serene and endless they were.
The greyness suddenly glossed with tears. Her mouth wobbled, and she pressed her cheek into my palm as I raised my hand to touch her. “You were lying in the forest. Not moving.”
“I know. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I wanted to come back to get you. But Uncle Jeffrey wouldn’t let me.”
“It’s not your fault, little spinach. None of this is your fault.”
She bit her lip, doing her best to stem her sadness. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you more.”
She threw herself onto me again. Her face pressing into the blankets covering my wounded side. I hid my pain, wrapping my arm around her fragile back.
I didn’t think about the future.
I didn’t worry about how much time I had with her.
I just closed my eyes and hugged my daughter.
Chapter Ten
______________________________
Olin
STARING AT MYSELF in the hospital bathroom mirror, I did my best to clutch to the resolve I’d made last night. The oath I had no choice but to follow.
I didn’t like hospitals—they reminded me too much of what I’d lost after my accident. I hadn’t wanted to come back.
But I had to see Gil.
To convince myself he would be okay...before I left.
You know what you promised, O.
I pointed a finger in my face, waggling it at my reflection.