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“Which wrist?” I swayed, needing to grip the counter in front of me. The relief flowing through me was overpowering, but if it was his dominant hand … It would destroy Killian if he lost the ability to play music.
“His left,” the doctor replied simply.
Thank fuck.“Will he recover fully?”
“With time and proper rehabilitation, yes. He’ll need to recognize his limitations as he heals. Both hands are needed to play the guitar.”
I thanked the doctor and wiped at the tears ribboning down my cheeks as I made my way to Killian’s room. My steps slowed as I turned the corner, and I took a deep breath before moving forward again.
I needed to brace myself, just in case. Logically, I figured the doctor had the most up-to-date news, but what if something had happened since he examined Killian?
The last person I wanted to see stood at the other end of the hall. Rage extinguished the worry until I took in Jack’s stance. He paced the hall in front of what I assumed was Killian’s room. His shoulders tight. His movements quick. His lips turned down into a worried frown.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My breath came out in harsh pants as I ran toward him. “Killian?”
Jack’s head snapped up. “Tris.”
“Is he all right?” I forced the words out past my tight throat. I rapidly blinked to stop fresh tears from falling.
He nodded.
Thank fuck.
Relief hit me so fast my legs wobbled and white spots shifted in front of me. Shit, I couldn’t pass out right now.
Jack reached out to steady me. “Are you okay?”
Bent at the waist, I had one hand on my hip and the other with my pointer finger out. He needed to give me a second.
Breathe, I reminded myself. In through my nose. Out through my mouth.
Five. Five things I could see—the floor. The old worn white with blue specks vinyl. My winged tattoo. In my periphery there were two abstract pieces of art on the wall. I straightened slightly and unfortunately, Jack’s worried gaze was the last thing I noticed. Okay that was five. My shoulders eased slightly.
Four.Four things I could touch—the soft cotton of the pants I wore. The smooth familiar links of the bracelet from Killian. Jack’s hand that I immediately pushed away. And the watch on my other wrist. I ran my fingers along the smooth glass front. My muscles relaxed now that the death grip on my hip was gone.
Three.Three things I could hear—the soft sounds of music coming from another room down the hall. The muffled voices from hospital staff behind me. And Jack’s repeated question, asking if I was alright. I drew in a breath, my chest not as tight as before.
Two.Two things I could smell—Jack’s cologne and the antiseptic scent of the hospital hallway. My panic ebbed a little more.
One.Something I could taste—after a few seconds of my mind racing on how to fulfill this one I remembered the stick of gum I’d tossed in my pocket just before I’d met with Killian at the recording studio. I’d been planning on using it to cover my coffee breath in case he wanted to kiss me. Clearly, that hadn’t been a problem if our kiss then was any indication. My lips curved into a faint smile.
I drew in another breath and released it, the panic receding.
Killian was going to be fine.I needed to remember that.
Once my vision cleared, I stood tall. Now that I’d had my freakout moment, anger rushed in. Immediately recognizing the shift in my demeanor, Jack took a step back and held out his hands. He had enough self-preservation to notice the change in me.
“Now, Tris. To be fair, when I called I didn’t say he was dead.”
“You knew exactly what you were saying, Jack Finn.” I stepped toward him and poked him hard in his athletically-sculpted chest.
“Maybe, but at the time I thought you might have broken up with Killian to be with Peter. I was pissed at you. It was all a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?” He clearly thought I was an idiot.
“Yeah. See, you get it.” A relieved smile touched his face. Jack was used to women falling at his feet with that grin.