Risk (Gentry Boys #2)(77)

“You have a brother? You never mentioned him.”

Stephanie coughed and flung her long hair to the side. “Yeah. I used to have two of them.”

I knew her just well enough to understand when she was done with a subject. I pushed Dolly off my lap and stood up. “Shit Steph, I can’t just sit here and pet my damn cat all night.” I balled my fists up and rubbed my knuckles into my closed eyes, welcoming the explosion of bright spots. All evening I’d been having terrible flashes of Creedence lying in a pool of blood. “This is awful.” My voice was breaking. I was breaking. Stephanie hugged me clumsily and patted my back.

“Come on,” Steph said, pulling me to the door. “Let’s go see that chick.” I opened my eyes and looked at her blankly. She rolled her eyes. “You know, your friend.”

“Saylor?”

“Yeah, her. She’ll know something first. Anyway, misery loves company and all that jazz.”

Saylor hadn’t heard from Cord yet. She paced continuously, ignoring her cousin when he tried to get her to sit down. Stephanie sat at the kitchen table and stared at everyone mutely while I sank into the couch beside Millie. She squeezed my arm.

“You okay?” She winced. “Stupid question.”

Saylor stopped pacing and stared at her phone again, as if she could will it to ring.

“Say,” I called softly, “come here.”

She squeezed on the couch next to me and dropped her head. Brayden reached across all of us and tipped her chin up. She gave her cousin a weak smile. Then her phone buzzed in her lap and she practically vaulted off the furniture. I closed my eyes. Someone, I didn’t know who, grabbed my hand tightly. I knew my heart wouldn’t stop beating, not even if he was dead. But I also knew that for a while I might wish that it had.

I heard Saylor say Cord’s name. Then there was dead silence for the longest second I’d ever lived through. Saylor let out a cry I couldn’t identify as either grief or joy. I opened my eyes. She was looking at me. She was smiling. “He won!”

I didn’t scream or cry or dance around the room. I just sort of deflated as the terrible tension vanished. Until that moment I’d made myself believe I would never see him again. Saylor’s words reached me as if from far away and I struggled to pay attention. Creed was hurt. I heard her repeat the name of a hospital.

“I’m going,” I said as she ended the call with Cord.

She nodded. “Me too.”

The others were very relieved about Creed but didn’t want to overwhelm him at the hospital. Brayden offered to drive Stephanie home since we’d driven over in my car but she insisted on walking back.

“Did Cord say how bad he was hurt?” I asked Saylor as I drove the short distance to the hospital.

“He said it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.” She was ecstatic. “He made it, Truly! He’ll be fine.”

The emergency room wasn’t crowded. We found Creed flanked by his brothers on one of the patient beds beyond the triage area. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and scowling as a nurse tried to shove a gown at him.

Chase was laughing. “Dignity’s out the window when you’re in the hospital, Creedence. Now behave and put the damn gown on.”

Creed grabbed the gown and grumbled as the nurse left. The right side of his face had a freshly stitched gash running across the cheek. His chest was bruised and his right leg was stretched out on the bed with an ice pack carefully placed over the knee.

Cord saw us first. He held his arms open for Saylor and then smiled at me. “Told him you’d show up.”

I was staring at Creed as his brother spoke. His head jerked up and his eyes locked on me with sudden intensity. The penetrating look he gave me reminded me of that first night at The Hole.

“Tallulah Rae Lee.”

I smiled. “Creedence Gentry.”

I went to him. My hands traveled all over his chest, his arms, his face. We kissed with a feeling deeper than passion and he lifted me up to the bed. I was aware that Saylor and the boys had quietly retreated after closing the bed curtain around us.

“You’re real,” I said, trying to convince myself that he was here. He was solid. He was whole.

“Yeah baby,” he groaned as it became apparent he wasn’t hurt badly enough to interfere with his urges. I put my hand on him and stifled his groan with my mouth.

“You’re all I thought about,” he whispered between kisses. “I just wanted to earn the right to hold you again.”

I wrapped his arms around me tightly and he buried his face in my breasts. “What happened, Creed?”

He slowly raised his head and sighed. “It’s over,” he said tersely. He pushed my hair from my face and kissed my forehead. “He’s not dead, honey.”

I shuddered. “But you would have been, wouldn’t you?”

Creed didn’t answer. He ran his hands up and down my arms. He kissed my neck. “Come closer.”

I looked at the flimsy cot, then glanced at the meager privacy afforded by the bed curtain.

“How?”

Creed picked me up in his arms and held me to his chest. He grimaced in pain when I accidentally brushed against his knee.

“Is it bad?” I asked.

“Nah. It’s a sprain or a ligament or some shit. I don’t know. They’re gonna put me in a machine to find out.” He massaged my neck and brought his lips to my forehead again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.