Hetch (Men OF S.W.A.T #1)(91)

Dark skinny jeans and one of Hetch’s old SWAT T-shirts.

“I don’t know much, just that he’s in surgery.”

“Surgery?” The ground tilts again. This time, I have to sit down. “Where are you? What happened? Is he okay? He has to be okay. He’s a f*cking cop, for Christ’s sake!” Every scenario of how he ended up in surgery runs through my head.

“Liberty, you have to stay calm. Freaking out is not going to help him. We’re at the hospital. He just went in. Fox is coming to pick you up. He should be there any minute. He’s closer than me, so wait for him.” The only word I take in from her sentence is wait.

Wait?

Wait while the man I love needs me?

Is she mad?

“No, I can drive. It’s okay.” I don’t know what I’m saying. I can barely stand, let alone drive.

“Liberty, the guys don’t want you driving. Please wait for Fox.” I don’t bother answering her when a knock at my front door cancels any argument I may have.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s here. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up the phone, push my feet into a pair of flip flops, and open the door to find Fox standing there.

“Fox?” His name acts as the main question when a thousand different thoughts are running through my head.

What happened? Is he going to be okay? Tell me he’s going to be okay. Tell me we’re going to be okay.

“He was shot.” The words hit me hard, like a f*cking sledgehammer to the stomach.

“Is he? What? How?” My stomach tightens and a deep ache takes root, forcing me to bunch over and hold my stomach.

“We need to go now, Lib,” is all he replies, but it’s not enough. I can’t get my feet to move.

“I-I can’t. I can’t.” I don’t know what I’m saying, what I’m asking. It’s like time has ceased and everything around us has frozen.

“You can, darlin’. Just take my hand.” He holds it out, but the simple task of moving my hand to his has me completely lost.

“Please, Liberty. He needs you.” The words are exactly what I need to jolt me back to some semblance of myself. Fox, noticing my return, steps forward, takes my hand and gently maneuvers me out of the doorway so he can close the door behind me.

“You need anything else?” I think I shake my head, or maybe the ground moves again, and I move with it, but whatever it is, Fox takes it on board, and starts directing me down the stairs.

“Does Hetch need anything?” I ask, stopping our descent, the thought hitting me fast.

“Other than you? Not right now. Let’s just get you to the hospital.” There’s no annoyance in his tone, but I can tell he’s tense.

“Okay, yeah,” I continue and he follows, keeping close like Hetch would. When we reach the parking lot, he takes the lead. Walking past me, he opens the passenger door of his truck. The step up is not as high as Hetch’s truck, but for some reason, this one seems harder for me climb into. Fox, noticing my reluctance, places his hands on either side of my hips and helps me up.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I’m just….” I trail off, not looking at him. I’m barely holding on by a thread; I’ve already lost it in front of him once. I don’t need to do it again.

“Hey.” He reaches out a comforting hand but stops himself midair. “He’s going to be okay, Liberty.” His reassurance does nothing to calm me. If anything, it makes me want to ask him how he could possibly be so sure. Two minutes ago, he said he didn’t know. Now he’s reassuring me he’s going to be okay.

Instead of lashing out at someone who doesn’t deserve it, I sit back and silently work through the same breathing exercises I teach my boys when they’re worked up and can’t contain their emotion.

One hand rests on my chest, the other on my abdomen and I inhale steadily through my nose.

Please, don’t die, Hetch.

Exhaling through my mouth.

Don’t you dare die.

Inhaling through my nose.

Please don’t die.

Exhaling through my mouth.

Don’t you dare die.

By the time Fox pulls up at the front of the emergency room fifteen minutes later, I’m no calmer than when I took Kota’s call. If anything, the coil of tension snaps tighter inside my stomach.

Please don’t die, my mind screams loudly.

Not prepared to wait for Fox to shut off the truck, I release my seatbelt, throw open my door and I forgo any help down. Fox doesn’t call out for me, or maybe he does and I’m too lost in my own head to hear him. Instead, he picks up his pace to stay close behind me.

Reaching the double entry doors before he does, I make it into the waiting room out of breath and immediately search for Kota, or anyone familiar. It doesn’t take long for me to find Kota first. She’s standing on the far side of the waiting room, shoulders resting against the wall, hands crossed over her chest. She’s talking to Sterling and her mother, and at the sight of them, I instantly feel like I shouldn’t be here.

You pushed him away, Liberty.

“Kota?” My voice is unsure, across a waiting room of police officers. Her head, followed by Sterling’s and Brianna’s, come up at my voice and I move toward them, anxious for information.

“Oh, thank God you’re here.” Kota steps away from the wall first, followed by Sterling and Brianna.