“You need to go to them,” she said. “She needs you.”
For the second time in my life—the first being when my leg was destroyed—I felt weak. I didn’t know what the fuck to do. Megan rushed off, leaving me there, blind and dumb. My girl was gone. My best friend was gone. And I could do fuck all to help them.
Megan returned with a cop I’d worked with before. “Sean’s going to take you to the hospital. He’ll get you there fast. You might get there right after them.”
My eyes met hers for the first time. She was ripped apart in the same way I was. I saw it all over her face. I didn’t like her, didn’t have kind thoughts about her, and she might have disliked me too, but we both loved Iris, and she was helping me get to her.
“Thanks.”
She shook her head. “Take care of her.”
“Always.” But that was a lie. I’d failed to take care of her. Broken a hundred promises. And look at the repercussions—at what I’d done.
Sean drove with the lights on. The second he pulled up to the hospital, I was gone, storming into the emergency department. I scared the receptionist at the desk, this I knew, but I was too far gone for feelings now. She heard my claim of being Iris’s husband, took a look at my distraught, destroyed state, and let me through. Any other day, I’d be pissed at the lax security, but not then. Not this day.
I found Iris behind curtains, a crowd of doctors and nurses working on her. I pushed forward, needing to lay eyes on her. To touch her skin and ensure it was still warm.
Her eyes were closed. Her shirt was gone. Blood soaked her hair, her stomach, her arm. It was everywhere, painting her crimson.
“Iris,” I rasped.
Hazy blue eyes flickered open. “Ro?” she croaked.
Moving forward, I took her hand, and it was so fucking warm, my knees turned to liquid. “I’m here, love. I’m here. You’re alive.”
“Hurts.”
I looked blindly at the medical professionals doing jack shit for my girl. “Do something. Fix her. Give her something,” I bellowed.
A nurse in teddy bear scrubs held up her gloved hands. “Sir, you need to calm down. Your wife has to go to a CT scan for her head. We’re doing everything we can to ease the pain, but we need her to be conscious.”
“She’s in pain,” I gritted. “She hates pain.”
Fuck.Her head. She’d hurt her head.Fuck!
“Finn,” Iris murmured. “Finn, where’s Finn?”
“I don’t know.”
“The man who was brought in with her?” the nurse inquired.
I shoved my hair from my face and looked at her with what I knew had to be a crazed expression. She barely blinked. “That’s Finn. Where is he?”Please, let him be alive.
“I’ll check for you, baby. If you calm down and let us work on your wife.”
Hearing her call Iris my wife sunk beneath my skin like a tonic. It was a shot of serotonin, restoring an ounce of my rationality.
“I’m not letting go of her hand.” I dared anyone to argue.
“Okay. You don’t have to right now. As long as you let us work,” she assured me.
I stood there, feeling like I was dying while they stitched Iris up. She mewled in pain. Her eyes remained closed, slammed tight in agony, and I felt it with her. If I could have taken it from her tenfold, I would have. But this was hers to bear. All I could do was hold on.
Somewhere during that time, the nurse with the teddy bear scrubs informed me Finn was alive.
“In surgery, baby. I can’t tell you more than that.”
It was enough. Finn was alive. Iris was alive. For now, it had to be enough.