Until Harry(63)

“Jensen,” I shouted. “He hurt me, he tried to – he tried to—”

“Shhh,” Jacob soothed. “It’s okay. He was arrested at the scene and cannot hurt you anymore. Hear me clearly, love, he cannot hurt you.”

I continued to panic, and Jacob looked distraught.

“I have your friend Drew here,” he said, and that got my attention.

“Drew?” I called out.

I heard movement, and then suddenly she was hovering over me.

“I’m here,” she breathed.

Her eyes were red and bloodshot, obviously from crying.

I swallowed. “My family . . . Kale . . .”

“They’ll meet us at the hospital.”

I closed my eyes and swallowed.

“I had to call them, Lane,” Drew sniffled. “You have to understand how scary it was seeing you like that . . . like this.”

I tried to nod, but the neck brace around my neck and shoulders prevented that.

“I know,” I acknowledged. “Thanks, Drew. You . . . you saved me.”

Her eyes glazed over. “I heard you scream. I didn’t know it was you, but I knew whoever was screaming was in trouble.”

Thank God she heard me when she did.

“Why were you in that building?” I asked.

“My friend Carey lives on the third floor,” she explained. “I was leaving her apartment when I heard screaming coming from Jensen’s, so I called for Jack, Carey’s boyfriend, and he kicked the door open.”

My throat clogged up with emotion, so I blinked in acknowledgement that I’d heard her.

“Drew,” Jacob said, “can you retake your seat, please?”

Drew disappeared, and I yelped when the ambulance ride got bumpy.

“Sorry, Lane,” Jacob called out. “We’re just pulling into the emergency bay now. We’ll have you in the hospital in a minute or two.”

I winced and cried in pain when the stretcher I was on was lifted out of the ambulance and then wheeled into the hospital. I stared up at the ceiling, watching light after light pass by. It got a little hard to stay awake then, so I closed my eyes to rest them for a few seconds.

“Room four with her, please,” a female voice said to Jacob, who was pushing me in the direction of the room.

“This is where I take my leave, Lane,” Jacob said when he leaned back over me. “You hang in there, love, okay?”

“I will,” I said. “Thank you.”

Jacob left to go outside to talk to the nurse he was leaving in charge of me, so Drew came to my side.

“Drew?” I heard my mother shout, her voice clearly distressed.

Drew exhaled a huge breath of relief and rushed outside into the hallway. I closed my eyes as she said, “She’s okay. She’s awake and talking.”

“Lane,” I heard my mother cry, closer this time, and then a shadow came over me. “Oh, my baby.”

I felt her hands on me, and it upset her even more that I winced in pain when she pressed too hard.

“Oh, Christ.” Lochlan’s voice was strangled. “Lane.”

“Lochlan,” my father’s voice shouted. “What room do they have her – Lane!”

“No,” Lochlan shouted. “You don’t want to see her like this.”

“Get the hell out of my way!” my father bellowed, and I heard some grunting, then a male cry.

“Baby,” my father whimpered. “Oh, my girl.”

Wake up!

I forced my left eye open, and when my vision adjusted, my parents’ distraught faces came into view.

“I’m . . . okay,” I rasped.

This caused both of them to cry with what I think was relief.

“I’m okay,” I repeated, louder.

My mother leaned down and kissed every part of my face that she could, and I let her, even though it hurt like hell.

“My eye,” I said to her. “I can’t open it.”

Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“It’s swollen shut,” she cried.

It is?

“Better than losing it,” I chuckled, trying to stop her tears, but I winced in pain when laughing made my chest hurt. “It hurts,” I said to my mother, tears welling in my eyes.

She called for a doctor, or anyone, to come in and help me then. I closed my eyes because the room I was in was bright, and my eyelids were very heavy.

“Lane,” a new male voice called out. “Lane, can you hear me?”

I was really tired, and I groaned in response to the voice.

“Lane, can you open your eyes for me?” the man asked.

I opened my left eye, but only for a second before it fell shut again.

“Is she okay?” my father’s voice asked. “Why can’t she stay awake?”

“I’ve only got partials on what happened – we’re still gathering information – but she has quite clearly received a lot of brute blunt-force trauma to her head. I’m hoping it is mostly cosmetic and her brain wasn’t affected. We will run an MRI and other tests after she is cleaned up and her wounds are stitched closed.”

I need stitches? I wanted to ask the question on my mind, but I could only groan instead.

“I know you’re hurting, Lane,” the man, who I guessed to be my doctor, said. “A nurse will set up an IV line and administer morphine to help get you somewhat comfortable.”