Page 18 of Save Me (The Midnight Cove #2)

AMY

R osa and I don't want to leave as we watch the fire engine turn the corner. Both of us agree without words that we want to wait and make sure that Gunner comes back safe and sound. I think we both need that after what happened with Nathan.

I'm playing on my phone, and she's coloring on a coloring book we had in the trunk of my car. I'm checking social media for any news of what's happening at the Grandview Inn, but all I see are videos that are harrowing.

I'm nervous as I watch the minutes tick by on my phone. That's when a car pulls up, and I see Trish get out.

Trish is the first to spot me. "Amy, what are you and Rosa doing here?"

"We brought Gunner food. We made meatloaf," I say lamely. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard about the fire and came here to wait for Gunner. Cora's with her dad and I didn't want to be by myself."

I scoot over, offering her a chair with us. "Come and worry with me," I offer.

She snorts. "I'm so glad I don't have to be here by myself."

I don't know what to talk to her about, because we don't know each other that well, and I'm about to ask her what's going on with her husband when both of our phones ring.

Her caller ID says Mark, and mine says Ash.

We look at each other, and a fear I've only ever felt a few times in my life rolls through my body.

"Hello?"

"Amy, this is Ash..."

I want to give him a moment, let him explain, but I can't. "Is he okay?"

Ash speaks quickly. "Gunner was trapped in a collapse of the front part of the building. They're taking him to the hospital. He's good, but looks like he broke his arm. Totally fixable. He's awake, but he's in a lot of pain."

My stomach rolls, but I tell myself that things are okay.

The words echo in my head as I hang up the phone. He's good. Totally fixable. I repeat them like a mantra as Trish grabs my hand, her own conversation with Mark ending with similar reassurances.

"They're both okay," she says, but her voice is shaky. "Mark said the same thing. Broken arm, but they're taking him to Midnight Cove Memorial."

I'm already standing, gathering Rosa's coloring supplies with trembling hands. "We need to go. I need to?—"

"Mom," Rosa's small voice cuts through my panic. She's looking up at me with those wide brown eyes that see too much. "Is Gunner hurt bad?"

I crouch down to her level, forcing my voice to stay steady. "He hurt his arm, but the doctors are going to fix it. He's going to be okay."

She nods solemnly, and I can see her processing this the way she's had to process too many scary things in her short life. It breaks my heart all over again.

"Can we go see him?" she asks.

"Yes, baby. We're going to the hospital right now."

We head out to the parking lot while I quickly text Eve to get her to meet us and get Rosa so she doesn't have to wait with us.

The drive to Midnight Cove Memorial feels endless, even though it's only fifteen minutes away.

Trish follows behind me in her car, and I keep checking my rearview mirror to make sure she's still there.

Rosa is unusually quiet in the backseat.

When we arrive, I'm surprised to see how calm the emergency room is.

Somehow, I expected chaos and sirens, but it's just a normal Tuesday evening at the hospital.

The fluorescent lights are too bright, and everything smells like disinfectant and that particular hospital smell that makes my stomach turn.

Eve is there, and she takes Rosa with a whisper to text and let her know what's happening.

Ash is already in the waiting room when we walk in, still wearing his turnout gear, his face streaked with soot. He stands when he sees us, and I can read the exhaustion in every line of his body.

"How is he?" I ask before I even reach him.

"In surgery," Ash says, running a hand through his hair. "The break was pretty bad. They're putting some hardware in to make sure it heals right."

Surgery. The word hits me like a punch to the gut, even though I know it's routine. Even though broken bones get surgery all the time.

"How long?" Trish asks, and I realize Mark has appeared beside Ash, looking just as exhausted.

"They said about two hours," Mark replies. "Maybe less."

The four of us settle into an awkward silence. The waiting room has that timeless quality that all hospital waiting rooms have, where minutes feel like hours and you start to forget what the outside world even looks like.

"I should call my mom," Trish says suddenly, pulling out her phone. "She'll want to know what happened."

But when she tries to dial, her hands are shaking so badly she can barely hit the right numbers. I notice and gently take the phone from her.

"I'll call her," I say. "What's her number?"

She tells me the number and I put it in for her. The conversation is one-sided, but when Trish hangs up, she seems like she's doing better. "Mom isn't coming because I told her there's enough people here, and I'm sure this is the last place you want to meet her."

"Thank you," I manage.

Ash and Mark have wandered off to find food, leaving Trish and me alone. The silence stretches between us, but it's not entirely uncomfortable. We're both here for the same reason, after all.

"He talks about you, you know," Trish says suddenly.

"What?"

"Gunner. He talks about you and Rosa all the time. At the station, at barbecues, pretty much any time someone will listen."

My heart does something complicated in my chest. "He does?"

"Oh yeah. It's actually kind of adorable how gone he is on you two. Last week, he spent twenty minutes telling Mark about Rosa's latest art project."

I feel tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "I didn't know he... I mean, we've never really talked about..."

"About what you are to each other?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"Amy, that man is head over heels in love with you. Anyone with eyes can see it. The way he looks at you, the way he talks about you... the way he lights up when you walk into a room."

The tears I've been holding back finally spill over. "But what if I never get the chance to tell him how I feel? What if something happens and he never knows that I—" I can't finish the sentence.

Trish reaches over and squeezes my hand. "He's going to be fine. This is a broken arm, not... not something worse. He's going to be fine, and you're going to have plenty of chances to tell him how you feel."

"I'm scared," I whisper.

"Of course you are. You love him."

The simple statement hangs between us, and I realize she's right.

I do love him. I love his gentle way with Rosa, the way he always seems to know exactly what we need before we even ask.

I love his dedication to his job and his community, his easy laugh, the way he makes me feel safe and cherished and like maybe, just maybe, I deserve something good in my life.

I love him, and I've been too scared to admit it, even to myself.

"I never thought I'd fall in love again," I say. "After Nathan, after everything that happened... I thought that part of my life was over."

"But it's not."

"No," I admit. "It's not."

Ash and Mark return with coffee and vending machine sandwiches that taste like cardboard, but I eat mine anyway because I need something to do with my hands. But mostly, I just wait. And think. And try not to let my imagination run away with all the things that could go wrong.

It's been three hours when the doctor finally appears, still in his scrubs, pulling off his surgical cap. My heart jumps into my throat as he approaches us.

"Who's here for Gunner?" he asks.

We all stand, a motley crew of people who love him in different ways. The doctor looks a little confused by our numbers, but doesn't comment.

"I'm Dr. Martinez," he says. "Gunner came through the surgery beautifully. The fracture was more complex than we initially thought, but we were able to repair it with plates and screws. He should have full function of his arm once it heals."

The relief is so intense it makes me dizzy. "Is he awake?"

"He's just starting to come around from the anesthesia. He's been asking for Amy." The doctor looks around our group. "Is Amy here?"

"That's me," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Martinez smiles. "He's been asking for you every time he's woken up. We can only allow one visitor at a time while he's in recovery, but you're welcome to see him now if you'd like."

I look around at the others. Trish nods encouragingly. "Go," she says. "We'll be right here."

The recovery room is quiet except for the soft beeping of monitors.

Gunner looks so different lying in the hospital bed, his usual larger-than-life presence diminished by the tubes and wires.

His left arm is in a cast from his wrist to his elbow, and there's a bandage on his forehead that I hadn't heard about.

But his eyes are open, and when he sees me, his face breaks into that crooked grin that makes my heart skip.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, his voice rough from the anesthesia.

I move to his bedside, not caring about the tears streaming down my face. "Hey yourself. You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry about that." He reaches for me with his good hand, and I take it, marveling at how warm and solid and alive he feels. "But I had to make sure you'd come see me in the hospital. Seemed like the most efficient way."

"That's not funny," I say, but I'm laughing through my tears.

"Rosa okay?"

"She's fine. She's home with Eve."

His eyes soften. "Good, I didn't want her to see me like this."

"Gunner," I say, suddenly desperate to get the words out while I can. "I need to tell you something."

"Amy—"

"No, let me say this. Please. I thought I might not get the chance, and I can't... I can't keep pretending that what we have isn't real.

I can't keep pretending that I don't..." I take a shaky breath.

"I love you. I love you so much it terrifies me, but I love you.

And Rosa loves you. And I don't want to waste any more time being scared of what might happen instead of enjoying what we have right now. "

Gunner's eyes never leave mine as I speak, and when I finish, he tugs gently on my hand until I lean down close enough for him to cup my face with his palm.

"I love you too," he whispers against my lips.

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his. "So what happens now?"

"Now we stop pretending this isn't something real," he says. "Now we figure out how to build a life together. You and me and Rosa."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

I sit with him until visiting hours are over, our fingers intertwined, talking about everything and nothing.

When I finally leave, promising to come back first thing in the morning, I feel different. Lighter. Like I've finally stopped holding my breath and started living again.

In the parking lot, Trish is waiting by my car.

"How is he?" she asks.

"Good," I say, and mean it. "Really good."

She studies my face in the dim parking lot light. "And how are you?"

I think about it for a moment, about everything that's happened today, about the fear and the love and the realization that sometimes the scariest thing you can do is also the most necessary.

"Happy," I tell her. "For the first time in a long time, I'm really happy."

She smiles and pulls me into another hug. "Good," she says. "It's about time."