“What happened to your leg?” he snapped, attempting to get up and slumping back into the
wheelchair.
“Easy there,” the nurse, pressing a hand into Lucian’s shoulder, said.
He glared at her and Dr. Sheffield stood. “It’s just a sprain, Lucian. She’ll be fine. How did the x-
rays go?”
The nurse and the doctor went over the x-rays. Lucian’s arm needed to be set. Everything was done
in an uninterrupted blur of one event after another. Scout held Lucian’s good hand and never took her
eyes off their intertwined fingers. It was long past dark when Dugan showed up and they were
permitted to leave.
Lucian had three badly bruised ribs, a broken radius, a dislocated shoulder, and several lacerations
on the shoulder that took the brunt of the impact when he fell. His temple was bruised, but he was not
concussed. His lip was split, but the bleeding had stopped and there was no need for stitches. They
wheeled him out because there was some rule about being wheeled out if you were wheeled in. She’d
hobbled behind him until Lucian insisted she ride on his lap.
When they got to the limo, he shut her inside for a moment to talk to Dugan. Typically, she would
have objected to being left out, but she was simply too tired to complain. By the time they reached the hotel, they were both dead on their feet. They made quite a spectacle, walking through the lobby, her
limping along, him holding his ribs, as his casted wrist lay cradled in a sling over the only remaining shred of his dress shirt.
They walked into the bedroom without turning on a single light. Neither of them seemed interested
in catching their reflection by chance. Silently, they assisted each other with their clothing until they were both naked.
She pulled back the covers and helped him in. Gingerly, she padded around the bed to her side.
When she climbed in, he drew her close with his uninjured arm, and she pulled the covers over their
tired bodies. And then they slept for what felt like days.
Chapter 18
Breaking Out
The curtains remained drawn, so there was no telling what time it was. Evelyn had woken at some
point and stumbled into the shower. Beads of moisture spattered over the tile told her Lucian had done
the same. She’d slept so deeply she hadn’t heard him wake. Once the filth—what could be washed
away—from the day before was cleansed from her skin, she climbed back into bed and slept.
Her dreams were a cruel kaleidoscope of her past. Distilled images of Pearl in places she’d never
been. Every dream ended the same. Her mother’s face turning to her, mouth gaping, eyes unblinking,
and Evelyn woke up choking on dust that wasn’t there.
They were her dreams. Her nightmares were worse. In her nightmares Lucian didn’t wake up. His
eyes were dull and flat. She couldn’t get to him. She ran, but her legs were anchored with muscles
made of wet sand. In one dream she caught up to him, but it was too late, he was tying off his arm and
she observed helplessly, screaming, as the fluid flushed through the needle into his veins.
Each time she thought she could save him, and each time she was either too weak or too late. It was
such a dream that woke her up. She curled into herself, sobbing softly into the pillows.
“Hey.” Lucian’s voice was a whisper in the dark. It curled around her like a caress and chased away
the confusing cobwebs of sleep. He eased her to her back and kissed her softly. “It’s okay.”
He drew her close and soothed her, brushing his palm over her back and calming her tears. Would
he be mortified to know she wasn’t crying over Pearl, but over her irrational fears of losing him? She
was a bad daughter.
His mouth teased over hers and he looked at her with those beautiful dark eyes. “Better?”
She nodded.
“Some deliveries came for you while you slept. Dugan brought them up.”
Had he been up and about? She assumed he only showered. “Deliveries of what?”
“How about you use the bathroom and then come see. I have bagels and some French toast. It’s
probably cold by now. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
She gripped his arm and he frowned. She needed to make sure he understood. “Lucian?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Evelyn.”
He didn’t get it. Seeing him fall made her realize just how much she needed him. This was different
than before. This was irrevocable. This was to the depths of her soul, with a thread tying her to him
that sewed her so tight she nearly puckered inside out. This was forever.
She’d show him. She’d show him and eventually he’d understand, everything had changed.
When she emerged from the bathroom, she hobbled to the common area. Her ankle was a constant
reminder of everything that happened the day before. The scent of flowers had her breathing deeply.
She turned the corner and gasped. Arrangements of stunning blooms and sprays covered every surface.