Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(112)

And I was running.

Running for Mia as his aimed shifted, my arm outstretched with the gun pointed at him.

Faster than I could make sense of it and anticipating what was going to go down all the same.

Because I knew full well if Nixon was gone, he wouldn’t be leaving Mia around as evidence.

Bullets flew, tearing up the living room.

And I was pulling the trigger as I dove in front of her, and Mia’s scream was filling my ears.

Lights flashed through my eyes.

The blackest blacks and the starkest whites.

A haze.

Heaven.

Hell.

I flew into her, knocking her chair over.

Toppling us over.

Didn’t give a thought to the pain in the front of my shoulder, the darkness that kept rushing in to steal my consciousness.

Blood flooding across my shirt.

Only thing I cared about was getting her untied.

Freed from her bindings.

But Mia.

She slumped to the floor.

A shattered groan left me, and I frantically rolled her onto her back, holding her face, screaming and screaming as those sable eyes fluttered and her breaths rasped. “No, Mia. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.”

Sirens wailed.

Coming closer and closer.

“I’ve got to go, man.” Braxton hesitated for a second, looking to the door, before he bolted as the sirens grew closer, leaving two bodies at his feet behind.

But none of that mattered.

Just her.

Mia.

My angel in the attic.

The purpose I’d never anticipated.

My reason I’d never seen.

Not until the second she’d crashed into me.





*



“I’m fine,” I grunted through the shock of pain, shoving my arm back through my bloodied shirt.

The doctor frowned. “I’d recommend that we admit you overnight. You suffered a significant amount of blood loss and you need a round of antibiotics to prevent an infection.”

Yeah, and I’d recommend that he step out of my way.

“Going to have to pass.”

He huffed in disbelief. “You were shot.”

It’d barely grazed me, and I had already spent hours being barraged by questions from officers. Last one finally left two minutes ago.

Two dead.

Two injured, one in critical condition.

Two children unharmed.

Unscathed.

Relief. Relief.

That overwhelming feeling was gnarled by the anxiety that crawled and infested and decayed.

“You can write me a prescription if you want. But I’m out.”

I slipped off the bed, wincing like a bitch.

He shook his head. “You’re in pain.”

He had no idea.

“You can find me on the fifth floor if you need me,” I grumbled, going for the door.

Arm in a sling, shirt covered in blood, but it was my soul that was doing the bleeding.

I went for the elevator, punching the up button about fifteen times.

Dread whirled around me.

A vortex of apprehension.

That storm I’d felt coming since the second that girl had stumbled into my life.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into it and rode it to the fifth floor.

Even though the hall was lit, I could feel darkness pressing into the hospital, ominous clouds that gathered at the edges of my sight and mind.

Regular visiting hours were long since over, but there were people who still mingled about, whispering outside doors, worry radiating from their hearts.

Nurses hustled, and a few rooms were still lit.

Feet heavy, laden with fear, I made it to the end of the hall where two double doors led into the intensive care unit. There was a counter to check in. The visiting hours later in this area, though I didn’t think there was anyone stupid enough to try to stop me from getting through those doors.

The man fronting the counter pushed the button and the double doors automatically swung open. I moved inside, footsteps slowed while my heart raced the fastest that it ever had.

Hope and horror.

Hope and horror.

Two emotions shoved so close together inside me, I wasn’t sure I could differentiate one from the other.

My breaths came shorter and shorter as I took a turn down the hall to the right.

Like I was going against the current. Against the grain.

I could barely move by the time I made it to her room number.

Lyrik was there, standing outside the door, his back pressed to the wall, his head rocked back toward the ceiling.

Panic sloshed, and terror slogged through my veins.

I froze three feet away.

He pulled from the wall when he saw I was there, and I was crushing my teeth when I met his eyes.

Waiting for the worst.

For the debt to increase.

These sins greater than I could afford.

Lyrik roughed a hand through his hair, blowing out a shuddering sigh. “She’s awake.”

My hand darted out to the wall to keep me standing.

Fear exhaled on a haggard breath.

Respite.

Reprieve.

Still, I was asking, disbelief in the plea, “She’s okay?”

He nodded. “She’s going to be.”