Chapter Nineteen
Why did everythinghurt?
A groan escaped his dry lips as Eric struggled to open his eyes.
The hand he hadn’t realized he was holding clenched around his fingers.
“You’re awake. Oh, thank God you’re awake.”
Hannah’s voice was the sweetest thing he could’ve woken to. When his lids finally lifted, her gorgeous face hovered over him—blocking out the harshness of the hospital light above.
“Hey,” she said softly, smoothing a hand over his forehead. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m...” He swallowed hard. “Not dead, so that’s a plus.”
“Yeah.” She nodded, her gaze turning troubled. “You’re lucky to be alive, no thanks to me.”
“It wasn’t your fault.” He tightened his fingers around hers, needing to erase any guilt she had.
“No, no, it really kind of was.” Her cheeks flushed. “I, um, shot you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I’m so sorry. It happened when I shot into the water at Wentworth. I think I might’ve closed my eyes when I pulled the trigger, and I accidentally shot you instead of him. I saw the blood, but I thought you’d cut yourself.”
She’d shot him? Disbelief warred with a manic laugh, because he wasn’t completely sure she was serious.
Then she burst into tears.
So, she was serious.
“It’s okay, sweetie. Where did it hit?”
“Your side.” She sniffled and wiped away a tear. “The paramedics discovered it once they got you into the ambulance. The cold water had slowed the bleeding. I’m so sorry, Eric.”
“It’s all right.” He couldn’t even feel the wound, and resisted the urge to lift the sheet and check.
First gunshot wound. Kind of awesome. Kind of horrifying. Definitely a trip that his girlfriend had accidentally done it.
“This is why you don’t give me a gun. I hate guns. And, of course, the minute I fire one I shoot the wrong person.”
This time, he did laugh. “Come here.”
When she resisted, he tugged her hand and pulled her closer. Until she was so close, their mouths were just inches away.
“I’d take a bullet for you—or accidentally from you—any day.”
Mortification flooded her face with color, but before she could protest, he cupped the back of her head and pulled her mouth down to his.
Her soft sigh of surrender and tentative response sent a pure possessive thrill through him.
This was his woman. The one. The love of his life. And it was terrifying to think how close he’d come to losing her.
When he ended the kiss, he cupped the side of her face and nuzzled his nose against hers.
Another thought, darker, kicked in. “Not to kill the mood, but what did happen to Wentworth?”
“He’s dead.” Relief flickered across her face. “He drowned. Maybe from the gunshot wound, maybe from the cold water... who knows? I’m just glad he’s gone. I don’t care how evil that makes me sound.”