“You need to get checked out too.” The woman said in an I’m-not-debating-this-with-you tone of voice. “At the very least you have a nasty cough going on thanks to the smoke.
“Okay,” she murmured, allowing the woman to wrap an arm around her waist and steer her toward the sliding glass doors. At least she’d be closer to Tag if they took her into the ER. And maybe they’d let her lie down. Her legs were starting to shake. It would be pure heaven to get off her feet.
By the time they shuffled through the doors, the floor and ceiling had started to spin. She frowned down, vaguely watching the laminate tiles lurch beneath her feet.
How odd…
And then her body started spinning too, along with the floor and the ceiling and the lights surrounding her. In the distance, a tide of alarmed shouts broke out as she felt herself crumbling.
This didn’t feel like an adrenaline crash.
Maybe she wasn’t so okay after all.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Supported by a fluffy white cloud, Sarah slowly awoke. The cloud buoyed her. No fear. No pain. No worries. Just downy contentment and a name echoing through her mind.
“Brett,” she murmured, and the sound of his name on her lips jolted her completely awake.
“Easy there, Rambo.” The male voice was familiar, but not Brett.
She frowned, forcing her heavy eyelids open, and found Lucas’s concerned face frowning down at her.
She swallowed, trying to lubricate her dry mouth and itchy throat. Man, she needed something to drink. “Water?”
“Here.” He lifted a red plastic cup from a cart beside her bed and pulled a stick out of it.
A stick? Really? She frowned. There was something attached to the stick. She squinted, forcing her irritated eyes to focus. A sponge? A water sponge?
“Open your mouth,” Lucas coaxed. “It’s wet. You can suck on it.”
She did as instructed and accepted the sponge. Cool moisture coated her tongue and lips. The water tasted delicious. Soothing. Invigorating.
Her memory unfurled, and events of the day started seeping into her brain.
A low muffled gunshot…Brett dropping to the ground. Blood. Blood everywhere. Brett just lying there…unmoving…
She jolted upright. Horror congealed in her chest, cinching her lungs tight. She coughed, spitting the sponge from her mouth. “Brett. Oh my God. He shot Brett.”
Lucas leaned over to gently press her back down. “Easy there. He’s alive. In surgery. The doc says it’s looking good.”
She scanned his face, searching for the truth. Was he lying? Was Brett dead?
Another flash of memory hit. Swaying on a tiny chair. The scream of an ambulance all around her. Brett’s hand in hers.
He’d been alive when they reached the ER.
A sigh of relief burned its way up her raw throat. “He’s alive? You promise?”
“I promise.” His voice was solemn.
She searched his eyes, finding reassurance and honesty. He wouldn’t lie about this. He wouldn’t.
Swallowing hard, she picked the sponge back up and passed it to Lucas. “Can I have some more water?”
As he took the sponge, she felt something pinch the top of her hand and looked down. For the first time she noticed the needle seated in the vein beneath the skin. She followed the tubing attached to the needle up to the clear bag of fluid beside her bed.
What the…
Her throat was so raw it tickled. Her eyes burned like they’d been blasted with sandpaper. Both were from the smoke, probably. She remembered the smoke and Brett and even stabbing Mitch. There was a vague, hazy memory of holding Brett’s hand in the ambulance. But everything went blank after she stepped into the ER.
She lifted the thin blanket covering her and looked down the length of her body. She was wearing a blue hospital gown. Why was she wearing a hospital gown? She looked over at the steel railing next to her. Why was she in a hospital bed?
“What happened?” Confused, her gaze lifted back up to Lucas’s face. “Why am I in the hospital?”
Lucas ran a hand over his tousled hair. The gaze he settled on her was dark with recrimination. “Turns out you weren’t as okay as you said and everyone assumed. You collapsed in the ER. When the nurses removed your clothes, they found a gunshot wound. A good bit of that blood you were covered in was yours.”
“Really?” Her mouth fell open in shock. She lifted the thin white blanket and sheet again and peered down her body. She saw nothing that indicated a gunshot wound. No blood. No lumpy medical dressing. Nothing even hurt. “Are you sure?”