Defiant Heir (The Heirs #3) - Michelle Heard Page 0,8

thought there was no damage?” Dad grinds out, clearly upset, and it rips through me like a tornado.

“The CT scan showed nothing,” a foreign voice answers. “The brain is complex. We’ll do more tests now that Mr. Reed is awake.”

A hand settles on my shoulder. “Mr. Reed, I’m Dr. Davis. Can you open your eyes for me?”

A part of me refuses to believe that I might be blind, and it keeps me from doing as the doctor asked.

“Kao?” Dad takes hold of my right hand. “Open your eyes.”

I suck in a breath and hold it as I slowly open them.

Nothing.

God.

There’s nothing.

Instantly, I’m thrown into a pit of despair as the breath rushes from me.

Dr. Davis does his checks. He talks with Dad, but I’m unable to take in anything. I hear more voices. Some panicked, others filled with devastation.

I remain still, blankly staring into a black chasm where no one can reach me. Time wraps into something incomprehensible.

Seconds. Minutes. Hours. They’ve all lost meaning.

Then a soft touch feathers over my left hand, and a familiar delicate scent chases the smell of sanitizer. Fallon. She presses a kiss to my cheek, and then I hear her whisper, “I missed you.”

My eyes drift shut, and I desperately want to follow her voice to the light.

“Fallon.” Her name is nothing more than a whisper, carrying the intensity of a prayer.

“I’m here.” Her palm rests against my cheek, and she presses another kiss to my temple.

Through my despair, my worry for her still triumphs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just whiplash and a little concussion. How do you feel?”

Her voice wraps me in a sheltered cocoon, where the truth of my situation can’t follow me.

“Kao?” Her voice is gentle, and I can clearly hear her love for me. “How do you feel?”

Weird

Scared.

Weak

Lost.

My lips part. “Okay.” I suck in an agonizing breath. “I’m okay.”

I feel her move closer again. Her left cheek presses against mine, and her silky hair gets stuck on the scruff on my jaw. Then she whispers, “Thank you for waking up.” Her breaths drift over my skin and ear. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

Fallon’s okay.

But you lost your sight.

Fallon’s okay. She’s all that matters.

“We need to take Mr. Reed for a scan,” a woman says.

Fallon begins to pull away, but with my right hand, I grab hold of her arm. “Wait.” I pull her closer to me until I can feel her breath on my face again.

I try to lift my left arm, but the pain increases in my side, and it has me freezing for a moment. I breathe through it, then turning my head toward her, I ask, “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” her answer flutters over my cheek.

I wish I could see for myself that she’s not hurt.

I move my right hand up her back until I reach something that feels like foam and rubber instead of her neck.

“It’s just a brace for the whiplash,” she immediately answers.

My fingers skim over the foam until I feel her left ear, and then I move my hand into her hair and pull her closer. When her lips touch mine, I soak in the feel of them for a moment.

She’s safe.

I cling to the relief as I let go of her.

“I’ll wait for you to come back,” Fallon says.

I open my eyes hoping – praying I’ll see her beautiful face – but still, there’s only darkness.

Shutting them again, I nod. “Later.”

Chapter 4

FALLON

I stare at the covers on the bed as a nurse removes the neck brace.

Kao can’t see anything.

The thought shudders through me for the hundredth time since Kao woke. They’ve done numerous scans and tests but haven’t found the cause yet.

God, what if he’s permanently blind?

I shove the thought away as soon as it pops into my head. They’ll find out what’s wrong and fix it. They have to.

Whatever the outcome, I’ll be there for him.

I’ll take care of him.

The nurse peels the bandage away from my skin on my neck. “The cuts are healing nicely. No infection.”

“Good,” I murmur. I haven’t seen the gashes yet. I can’t bring myself to look at the mess on my neck and face.

The nurse cleans the wounds and changes the dressings, and when she doesn’t put the neck brace back on, I ask, “Am I done wearing the brace?” I freaking hope so. I’m tired of how scratchy it makes my skin feel.

“You’ll need to wear it until your neck’s better,” she answers.

“Can I take a little break, though?”

“Just for a short while.”

One small mercy,