“I need to see her.” I decided to simply parrot myself until Belle was put in front of me, alive, well, and happily pregnant. Still, I couldn’t ask either of them if the baby was okay. The question seemed too intimate, and I didn’t trust myself not to bawl, no matter the answer.
“Persephone is pushing her wheelchair down the hallway now,” Sam said.
Wheelchair?
“Coming through. Please make room,” Persy chirped just then. Cillian hurried to open the door for her, and she walked in, pushing Sweven inside.
Emmabelle looked tired in a pale blue hospital gown. Her hands were folded in front of her. I couldn’t see her stomach from that angle.
Persephone parked her at the edge of my hospital bed.
I swallowed hard, everything inside me burning.
“Everybody get out. I need to speak to Belle.”
They all did.
Belle stared at me for a moment, blinking slowly, as if I was a complete stranger.
Bloody hell, I hoped she hadn’t lost her memory. I had just committed a heroic act, possibly the only heroic act I’d ever committed—past, present, and future—and I needed her to know about it so we could stop fucking around.
“The baby …” I started then stopped. A part of me was frightened to know. I did see blood before I passed out at her parents’.
She leaned forward, resting her cold, clammy hand against my warm one on the bed. “She’s fine.”
I nodded gravely, my jaw tense so I wouldn’t weep in relief, like a little girl.
“Good. And you? How are you feeling?” I asked.
“I’m also fine.”
“Lovely.”
Silence. I tried to twitch my fingers to put my hand on top of hers. But my entire arm and shoulder felt immobile.
“Am I paralyzed?” I asked conversationally.
“No.” She smiled, her eyes shining. “But you’re under the influence of painkillers, dude.”
“Marvelous.” I smiled tiredly.
We both laughed.
“You got into an air duct for me,” Belle choked on the words. “And you’re claustrophobic.”
Finally, I was recognized for my greatness.
“You were in danger.” I half-shrugged with my healthy shoulder. “It was a no-brainer.”
This made her break down in tears. She buried her head in the linen next to my legs, her whole body quivering with sobs.
“I’m so sorry, Devon. I screwed everything up, didn’t I?”
“Oh, shush, darling. Of course not.” I made an effort to move my hand—and this time succeeded—stroking her hair.
For the record she absolutely did cock up, but I was being a gentleman about it.
“Also, what are you referring to exactly, when you say you screwed everything up?” I cleared my throat.
She looked up, wiping her tears with the back of her sleeve, sniffling. “I took a check from Louisa …” She hiccupped.
“I know.” I continued to stroke her cheek. “She told me.”
“And then I left you without even explaining myself.”
“Yes. Yes. I was there for the entire show, remember?” I grinned.
She stopped. Tilted her head. Frowned.
“Devon, why aren’t you mad at me?” she demanded. “It is not okay for you to accept this kind of behavior. What are you, a doormat?”
“A doormat, no,” I said, amused, “but I am in love with a woman who suffered severe trauma when she was a wee girl. Love has failed you many times. You were never shy about it. I was the one who pushed you out of your comfort zone.”
“My comfort zone sucked.” She elevated an eyebrow, looking more and more like herself. I tried hard not to laugh, tilting my head against the pillow as I studied her.
“I know, Sweven.”
“I thought you’d never call me that anymore.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears.
“Why?” Now I did laugh.
“Because I told you to marry someone else.”
“I don’t know how to break this to you…” I laced my fingers in hers “…but not every single thing you are going to tell me to do will be followed through dutifully.”
There was contemplative silence, in which both of us realized we were lucky to be here, in this room, alive.
“I burned the check,” she sniffed, finally.
“I know.” I had no doubt in my mind she’d spurn taking money from Louisa, even if she had been tempted for a moment or two. Which was why I kept fighting for her, even when things were looking dreadful. “Why are you in a wheelchair?”
“Hospital policy.”
“Why didn’t you use the gun?” I asked out of nowhere.
She flinched. It took us both back to that scene, when Frank attacked her.
“I was too afraid I’d accidentally kill you. I didn’t want to take any chances.”
“That is the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“And also…” she drew a breath, closing her eyes “…my hands are far from clean in this department.” She opened her eyes again, and she looked different this time. Complex, powerful, dangerous. A Valkyrie. I swore she stood six inches taller than me in that moment. “I know the consequences and complexities of taking a life. I didn’t want to do it unless I absolutely had to.” She hoisted herself up on the bed, nestling next to me. Her hard, round stomach pressed against my side. My cock immediately stood up in appreciation. She laced her arms over me, careful not to touch my shoulder, and pressed her mouth to my ear.