The E.R. doors swung open and a young, dark-haired nurse walked toward them, her face carefully neutral. Gabe started to shake again.
"You're the man who brought in Tessa Beaumont?"
At his nod, she continued. "We still can't get a core temperature, and her heart won't establish a regular beat." The nurse gave them a sympathetic look. "We're not giving up, but I have to be honest. Even if she rallies, there's a chance of brain damage. We'll do all we can, but you should probably prepare for the worst."
All the air slammed out of his lungs, and the room spun. Through a thick, red haze of pain, he watched the nurse hurry away.
Melody grabbed his hand. "Are you a praying man, Gabe?"
"I am now," he whispered.
Sixty endless minutes crept by.
Then sixty more.
Gabe sat frozen in the uncomfortable chair, bargaining with God, not sure if he wanted the doors to open again or not. As long as they stayed closed, it meant Tessa was still fighting. Still alive.
Three of the longest hours of his life dragged by before the doors opened and the same nurse approached. Her facial expression revealed nothing, but instinct warned Gabe she brought crucial news. He dug deep for every ounce of strength he possessed. He stood to meet her.
The nurse stopped in front of him. "We managed to raise Tessa's temperature. At four-thirty, we got one heartbeat. After more effort, we got a few in a row, then at four-forty, she developed a pulse." She smiled. "Your friend is quite a fighter. She surfaced briefly, but not long enough for us to determine if there's any brain damage. Her lack of consciousness is due to a concussion and not a coma, and she is breathing on her own, which is a very good sign. We're moving her to intensive care."
Gabe's knees gave out and he collapsed into the chair. Melody burst into tears. He slid his arm around her slender shoulders. He couldn't distinguish her tremors from his own.
The nurse sat down beside them. "Tessa's not out of the woods yet. We're going to have to watch her carefully for the next few days until she's stable. There's a good chance she'll flatline again."
"But she's alive," Melody sobbed. "She's not in a coma. She'll beat this."
Gabe swallowed the panic the nurse's words had caused. "I want to see her." He'd drag her back to him with both hands. With everything he had.
The nurse nodded. "ICU is on the fifth floor."
Melody headed upstairs, and Gabe spent a few minutes in the head to splash cold water on his face and get a grip on his shredded equilibrium. As he strode into the elevator, he continued bargaining with God. Please. Please let her be all right.
He watched the red numbers flash in the panel above his head. Tessa had said she loved him. After everything he'd put her through, after he finally came clean, would her love still stand? His gut clenched. In his experience, words didn't mean anything. People said "I love you," then strolled away without a backward glance. Leaving you mute with pain and terror.
But damn it, he'd kept love at arm's length all his life. It was time to take a stand, to stop running away from love and run toward it. Living without Tessa just wasn't an option.
The elevator glided to a stop and the doors slid open. Determinedly setting his roiling thoughts aside, he strode to the nurses' desk at the end of the corridor where Mel waited. She looked up at him, her elfin face pinched. "They're only allowing one visitor at a time, for ten minutes. I thought you might want to see her first."
He patted her slender shoulder. "Once I get in there, they're not going to be able to blast me out with C4. I know how close the two of you are. Go ahead, Mel. I can wait a few more minutes."
She gave him a wobbly smile. "You know, for a Y chromosome carrier, you're pretty sweet. I might even have to change my lowly opinion of the male species." She stood on tiptoe, bussed a light kiss on his cheek, and then hurried down the hall.
Gabe again walked to the windows, staring out at the gray landscape. Menacing clouds hung over the city, bringing premature twilight. Sharp wind gusts drove spatters of rain against the windowpanes like shrapnel. Yet lights from downtown office buildings pierced the gloom. Small, bright beacons