Stopping by the waiting room on the way out, I told Smitty and Marsha that they could go in.
“Okay, Brady, and get some sleep. Don’t worry, we have guys stopping by throughout the night to check on him,” Marsha assured me.
As I walked outside of the hospital, breathing in the cool night air with relief, I thought of Ming, and how I really wanted to see her right then. That’s when I remembered that we’d had a date scheduled for that night … and I’d missed it.
I searched my pants pockets, swearing when I realized I didn’t have my phone on me. When I got to the police cruiser, I saw it sitting on the passenger seat and picked it up to see missed calls and texts from Ming.
Fuck!
Not wanting to risk her ignoring my calls, or go into detail about what happened over the phone, I decided to drive to her place and see her. Unfortunately, I had to go to the station to change out cars. I could only imagine how pissed she was.
I made the switch as quickly as I could, and was almost to her place when I started shaking. First my hands, then my entire body.
Chapter Twenty-Four ~ Ming
I was lying on the couch, a pathetic ball of mush, trying to watch the latest episode of my favorite design show and failing, when a knock sounded on the door. I sat up, sending used tissues from my crying jag flying to the floor, then laid back down when I heard Brady call my name.
What does he want from me?
I looked around my uncharacteristically messy living space, taking in the half-empty takeout container, the opened bag of chocolate donuts, and the empty bottle of wine, and shrugged as I surged off the couch.
If he wanted to come in and do this now, so be it, I wasn’t going to clean up for him … but I couldn’t leave him in the hall to wake up my neighbors either.
I took a deep cleansing breath, wiped my cheeks with the backs of my sleeves in one quick motion, then unchained the door and swung it open.
The sight of Brady almost had me falling to my knees.
He looked wrecked. Ravaged. The look in his eyes alone was enough to make mine start filling again.
How are there any tears left?
All of my anger, disappointment, and self-pity fled me as I took him in, my hand instantly reaching out to touch his arm as I asked, “Are you okay?”
Nothing could have shocked me more than when Brady gathered me into his arms and held me tight, my feet coming off the ground as he buried his face in my neck.
Instinctively my arms came around him. One around his neck to give myself some leverage, and the other around the back of his head to caress his hair.
His hand must have pushed the door closed, because I heard it shut as Brady walked us to the bed and laid us down. I held on just as tightly as he did, as I waited for him to tell me what had happened.
I knew it had to be something significant, and I chastised myself for not thinking about the fact that he was a cop. What if he hadn’t been standing me up, but had been held up by work, and that’s why he was a no-show.
We were both laying on our sides, his arms holding me so close that there was no space in between us. Our legs tangled together and I caressed his back, murmuring softly in his ear.
I felt wetness on the base of my throat, and my heart clenched at the thought of Brady suffering.
“What happened?” I asked gently, once his vice-like grip on me loosened.
Brady took a deep breath as he pulled back a few inches. He brought his hand up and wiped his thumb under his eye before saying, “There was an armed robbery at the bank today. Doobie and I were first on scene.”
Even though I had him in my arms right that moment, and he was obviously unharmed, I felt ice run through my veins at his words.
Rather than suffocate him with my panic, I stayed silent, waiting for him to finish what he needed to say.
“Doobie was shot, he’s in the hospital.”
“Oh my God,” escaped my lips before I could stop it.
“He’s okay,” Brady assured me, his fingers clenching against my back as he continued, “Shoulder injury … It’s my fault.”