Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(29)

“I want them out of here,” Eli demands. “I want them out of this hospital and under my roof. I don’t know what the hell I’m dealing with and I don’t want them here so exposed.”

Rebecca glares at Eli. “Orderlies are scared to come onto this floor because of the amount of men you have planted outside this door. I think Chevy and Violet are safe.”

They keep arguing. Mom jumps into the conversation. So does Chevy’s mom. All loud voices with varying opinions that Eli won’t listen to because he believes he knows everything.

There’s a movement of the covers and my heart flips when Chevy’s hand finds mine. Somehow, even though I was already lying down, I settle further into the bed, into the pillow, and the thrumming in my head becomes less severe.

It’s like a buzzing now, less annoying, but still there. As if I was encased by a beehive.

Chevy laces his fingers with mine and I breathe out. It’s a cleansing breath, it’s a cathartic breath, it’s like slipping into a hot bath.

Chevy’s hand is rough, calloused from football, from the years of working on motorcycles and cars, from the fistfights he’s had over the years to protect his family, to protect my brother and recently to protect me.

It’s a strong but gentle hand. One that guides our linked fingers closer to his chest, closer to his heart, and I swear to God I can feel it beating through his shirt. Maybe that’s my heart beating. Maybe this is the first time my heart has worked properly since the gun was fired.

We’re shoulder to shoulder in the cramped bed. His body heat drifts over me like an additional blanket, and for the first time since we arrived, my eyes grow heavy and the need for sleep is overwhelming.

I turn my head, slowly, enjoying the way the cool pillow caresses my skin. Chevy’s already watching me, and if I had the energy, I’d touch his beautiful face.

“Please make them leave,” I whisper.

Chevy squeezes my hand, casts his eyes in the direction of all the grown-ups who have loud voices and even louder opinions. “Everyone needs to go.”

It’s odd how there were so many things being said at once and how that all ended in an instant.

“We’re tired,” Chevy says. Simple. To the point. I like it.

“We’ll be right outside.” I can’t tell if that was my mom or Chevy’s mom and I’m honestly too tired to figure it out. Instead, I study Chevy’s jaw. There’s a bruise and I don’t like it. I wish I could wave my hand and he’d be healed.

Shuffling of footsteps on the wooden floor, then Chevy calls out, “Eli.”

“What do you need?”

“I need sleep.”

So do I.

I angle my head so I can witness Eli’s response, to see if he understands what Chevy’s really asking, what I need to know before I can let myself drift.

“We’ve got every entrance and exit covered. No one’s coming in here if you don’t want them. You’re safe to rest. Get some sleep, we’ll get you both home soon and we’ll take care of you there, as well.”

“Thanks,” Chevy says. Eli leaves and I watch as the door to Chevy’s room closes.

Silence.

There’s silence.

Not really silence.

There’s the sound of my breaths coming in and out. The sound of Chevy’s breaths coming in and out.

Chevy shifts so he’s under the covers with me, moving so that I can nestle exactly where I want to be—my head on his chest, my arm around his stomach. Chevy holds me tight, his fingers tunnel into my hair and then eventually discover my temple. He starts that slow circle massage and my eyes eventually close.

“I’ve got you, Violet. I swear to God I’ve got you.”

And there’s no more thrumming.

Just his heat, warm covers, his heartbeat, his promise, the rise and fall of his chest and my body wrapped around his.

This. Just this. I’m finally home.





CHEVY

Violet: You look tired.

Me: I am.

Violet: Have you been able to sleep?

Me: Not since the hospital. Only when I slept with you.

Violet: Me either. There’s this buzzing in my head that keeps me awake. I wish there would be silence. Everything seems too loud now. Like a TV with a broken remote.

Me: I get it.

Violet: I thought you would.

“SHE’S QUIET,” SAYS OZ. “I don’t like it.”

I pocket my cell, wanting to keep the messages between me and Violet private, then pick the football up off the ground. I glance over at the wraparound porch. Violet’s on the porch swing and she places her cell on her lap, but doesn’t look in my direction. Doesn’t let on at all that we’ve been chatting back and forth, sharing secrets via short words on a screen.

Her legs are propped up and she’s listening to her younger brother, Stone, who is in the Adirondack chair next to her. He’s telling her about some movie he and I watched last night.

In fact, he’s told her about every movie he’s watched while Violet and I were gone and while she was in the hospital. As long as he has her attention, he’ll keep talking, and knowing Violet, she’ll sit and listen. Even if we hadn’t been kidnapped, Violet has always given Stone her time.

I make a mental note that one of us will have to swoop in and give her a break. “Violet’s listening to Stone, that’s why she’s quiet. She doesn’t interrupt him unless she has to.”