Sweet Surrender (Sweet #1)(83)

Micah’s voice grew dimmer and dimmer. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold on. At some point, Nathan got on the phone, but none of what he said made sense. It was all a garbled mess.

“Find Faith,” he whispered. “Don’t worry about me. You have to find Faith.”

He faintly registered someone shouting his name, but he wasn’t strong enough to hold the phone to his ear any longer. It clattered to the floor as the room went dark once again.

Blinding light pierced his eyeballs as someone peeled back his eyelids. He shook his head and snapped his eyes shut again.

“Come on, son, wake up.”

Gray let his eyes flutter open.

“Ah, that’s better.”

The room came into focus, and Gray realized he was in a hospital bed. A man he presumed was a doctor stared at him from a few feet away, clipboard in hand.

Gray’s gaze skirted around the room until he saw Micah standing in the far corner, phone to his ear.

“Where’s Faith?” he rasped.

Micah snapped the phone shut and hurried to the bed. “Shit, man, you scared the hell out of me. It’s about damn time you woke up.”

Gray looked between him and the doctor. “How long have I been out?”

“A little over twenty-four hours,” the doctor replied.

Gray let out a stream of curses, and he struggled to get out of the bed.

“Whoa, son, where do you think you’re going?” the doctor demanded as he put a hand on Gray’s chest and shoved him back down on the bed.

Gray looked desperately at Micah. “Faith. Where is she? Have you found her?”

Micah’s expression was grim as he shook his head. “Sorry, man. Nothing yet.”

Gray shut his eyes and thumped his head against the pillow. “I have to get out of here. I have to find her.”

The doctor frowned and turned his disapproving stare on Gray. “You won’t be going anywhere today.”

“How bad is it?” Gray demanded, as he gestured toward his heavily bandaged shoulder.

“Not nearly as bad as it could be,” the doctor said in a placating voice. “Just a flesh wound. I stitched you up. Our main concern was the loss of blood. Sometimes the simplest wounds bleed badly.”

“If it’s just a flesh wound, then I can get the hell out of here,” Gray growled.

“You need to rest. I might consider letting you go tomorrow, although I’d prefer you to stay a few days. We have to monitor you for infection.”

“I’m leaving today,” Gray said through gritted teeth. “Write me a damn prescription for some painkillers and some antibiotics, and I’ll be good to go.”

“If you leave, you’ll have to sign as AMA.”

“I don’t give a shit. I’m walking out of here, with or without your permission.”

He glanced at Micah, expecting to get grief from that corner, but Micah stayed silent.

The doctor sighed. “All right, but I’m going on record that you’re leaving against strict medical advice. I’ll write the prescriptions. Be sure and take those antibiotics. If you start running fever or your wound gets red and inflamed or swells more, then you get your ass back here.”

Gray shoved himself into an upright position and nearly passed out as a wave of pain hit him. He groaned and reached down with his free hand to steady himself.

Micah gripped his arm. “Hang on to me, and don’t try to stand up too fast.”

Between the two of them, they managed to get Gray out of bed. The doctor returned a moment later and handed Micah a piece of paper with the prescriptions on it. Then he shoved a clipboard at Gray.

Gray took it and didn’t bother reading over it. He knew what it said. The whole spiel about the hospital not accepting responsibility if he dropped dead in the parking lot. Yeah, he got it. He scribbled his signature and thrust the clipboard back at the doctor.

He waited for Micah to head out, and he followed slowly behind, trying not to acknowledge the way the floor shifted and swayed underneath him. He felt like a goddamn sissy.

By the time Micah half dragged, half helped him to the lobby, Gray was sweating, and he was sure he had to be white as a sheet.

“Dude, I’m not so sure this was a good idea,” Micah said. “You look like shit. Are you going to make it?”

“I have to find her,” he said, allowing the desperation he felt to flow out in his voice. “Have you heard anything? What’s going on?” And as they stepped out of the front entrance, sunlight blinded him. He blinked and then shook his head. “Where the f**k are we?”

“Houston,” Micah said shortly. “Look, you stay here. Sit on that bench and don’t move while I go get my truck. I’ll be back in a second.”

Gray slid onto the bench and tried to settle his rolling stomach. To be honest, he felt like he was going to f**king puke. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and tried not to let panic overtake him.

Faith. God, what must she be thinking? Not only was she scared to death, but she thought he’d betrayed her. Used her. Fuck. He had, but not in the way she thought. He closed his eyes and tried to hold back the rage that consumed him.

A few minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Micah standing over him. He groaned as Micah helped him up, and as much as it pissed him off to do so, he had to lean on Micah in order to make it to the truck.