Tank (Moonshine Task Force Book 2)(5)
“Babe,” it kills me to ask, it hurts me because I know it hurt her. “Did you respond to the call?”
Her green eyes show an anguish I’m not sure I can ever understand. She deflates right in front of me, this woman who’s always such a badass. She’s usually so strong and full of life with the colors of the tattoos she sports running down her arms, but right now that woman is nowhere to be found. I watch her completely draw within herself. I watch as she leans back, grabbing the chair, sitting down before she obviously falls down. Blaze collapses in it, putting her face in her hands for a long minute. She takes what appears to be a fortifying breath and then answers my question.
“Yeah, Ryan and Ace responded first, but Logan and I were the closest medics available,” she bites her bottom lip, holding something in.
Fuck me….guilt eats at me. My best friend and my girl both saw me in the worst shape I’ve ever been in. I can’t fathom how I looked in the truck and what I’m sure I must look like laying in this bed, but I need her to be honest with me. If there’s anything we need at this juncture of our relationship, it’s honesty.
“Baby, tell me about it, let it out. It’s okay.” I know from my own experiences that you should talk about it, even if it’s with the person you’re trying most not to let in.
“I wasn’t worried, ya know?” she starts, grabbing my fingers in between hers. Hers are freezing, and I have the fleeting thought maybe she’s in shock. She plays with the tips of them, rubbing at my fingernails. “I knew you weren’t on shift, because you’d texted me the night before, asking if we could talk. But I ignored you, because I didn’t know how to talk to you, to face you after what all we said to each other the last time we argued. I was one thousand percent positive you weren’t on shift though, it never even crossed my mind it was you. I even sent you a text, warning you of the wreck, telling you to stay where you were. I said maybe we could have dinner, because sometime over the past few months, I realized the argument we had wasn’t just me or you, it was me and you,” she stops to take a breath. “I’ve been worried I’d never be able to say those words to you. As much as I was pissed at you, us breaking up was partly my fault too. I’m willing to take the blame with you.”
I hate hearing the pain in her voice. Feeling the aches I do, I know it was bad when they came on the scene. I feel like I’ve gone fifteen rounds with a pro boxer and then tumbled around in a washer spin cycle. Everything on my body hurts and aches, including my teeth. I don’t even want to think how I’d feel if I wasn’t on the pain meds I know they’ve given me.
“When I got to the scene, I saw two regular pickups. So I yelled to Ace saying it had come over the radio that there was an officer involved. When he told me it was you, I felt like my life was over. I fell to my knees in the middle of the road, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t know what to do to help someone. Ryan came crawling out from under the back of your truck looking like he’d seen the devil himself. He was so pale I thought he was going to pass out, covered in mud, probably shit, and your blood.”
She continues playing with my fingertips and I welcome the connection. It makes me feel alive, and I need that right now. I need her warmth and the vibrancy of life she carries with her on a daily basis.
“We waited for the jaws to cut you out, and then they told us we could go over. I’ve never seen you like that before, and hand to God, the way you looked was in the top five of bad patients I’ve ever seen. I fought like hell to keep you alive until we got to the air evac.”
So I’d been helicoptered to Birmingham. It’s all kind of starting to click. My receptors are coming back online after being off for so long.
“Logan drove me, and I haven’t left. Your sister brought me some clothes and we’ve talked every time she’s come in here. She loves you a lot and she’s one tough chick,” her words are strained, and I can hear her trying to keep the tears in check. It’s killing her, it’s killing me.
“Whitney is badass. How’s the baby?”
“She’s had some contractions, but the doctor said it’s not unusual with the shock you gave all of us.”
We’re quiet for a minute. I can’t take my eyes off her, can’t stop trying to map the contours of her face. I watch her breaking in front of me. See her chin trembling, her teeth holding on tightly to that bottom lip to keep the seam of her frown together, and the spot between her eyes pulled tight to keep the tears from falling.
Then there’s a kink in the armor as one tear slides down her cheek. Her shoulders jerk with the effort she’s exerting to hold it all in. I do the only thing I can.
“Blaze, help me sit this bed up and crawl in here with me. I don’t care if it hurts; I have to have you beside me, right where you fucking belong.”
She reaches over, tears dropping onto my skin as she moves the bed so that I’m elevated.
“Lower the railing and climb in next to me, I need to feel you against me. I can’t take away what you saw and erase it from your memory, but I can be here.”
Doing what I ask her to, I allow her to cuddle up next to me, and it’s the best medicine in the world even if it does hurt like hell. Somehow I manage to reach over with my IV hand and curl it around the nape of her neck, letting her bury her head against my shoulder. Gingerly and biting back a groan, I lean down, kissing her hair.