Page 83 of The Moments You Were Mine

It was everything I’d told myself for twenty-nine years I didn’t want.

But it had never been true. I just hadn’t wanted it without her.

Now, I wanted a chance at forever. I wanted to be one of the few couples whose relationship stood the test of time. The ones others looked to with envy, wishing they had the same.

But for Fallon, being with me meant dealing with my career and being apart for months while I was deployed and knee-deep in dangerous missions. It now came with a beautiful little boy who’d lost everything and who I’d also given promises to.

“You’ll tell me if I should come back.” It was a command, not a question, but it didn’t bother me that Rafe had issued it. I understood exactly why he had.

“I will. But right now, you showing up will only make Fallon feel worse.”

“I hate that you’re right.” We let it sit between us for a moment. “Tell her to call me when she gets home.”

We hung up, and I turned back to the series of texts that had arrived while I’d been on the phone with Rafe.

The motorcycle and its rider had been long gone by the time Lance and the team had hit the fire road. But Sheriff Wylee wascollecting evidence, and the team was scanning the video footage we did have for any clues. I wanted the new cameras the team was bringing today to be installed as covertly as possible so this asshole couldn’t avoid them.

Cranky had sent me a list of footage he thought had been messed with, as well as a list of cameras that had been shifted in ways Mother Nature couldn’t have caused. He’d promised to dive further into the altered video to see if we could recover a digital footprint that might lead us to the attacker.

I shoved my phone in my pocket and returned to Fallon’s room. My heart sank when I saw her cheeks were wet with tears. Fallon didn’t cry. Not often. I wasn’t sure who’d taught her it was a weakness, but she held her tears back with a ferocity that would have made her a formidable contender for a SEAL team if she’d chosen that route.

The doctor wouldn’t tell me the truth when I demanded it, but I’d get it out of Fallon. She was upset about something besides the shooting and her injuries. I’d take her home, tuck her up in bed, and use any means to get the truth out of her.

My body tensed once more, thinking of the new and glorious ways I might be able to torture her with pleasure until she told me the truth—ways I’d always stopped myself from even considering but now laid before me like a prize.

I’d let her heal, I’d make sure she was okay, and then I wouldn’t hold back.

After the doctor returned with a printed list of instructions and the signed release orders, I was tempted to sweep Fallon into my arms and storm out of the hospital. Instead, I took her hand and walked her to my truck.

I opened the passenger door and assessed her as she eased into the seat. She was hurting from more than just the kick in the head. Maybe it was from the fall, but I thought it went beyond even that. She was moving differently. Awkward. As if she didn’t know what to think about her own body anymore.

She was silent on the ride back to the ranch, and as much as I wanted to push her, I let her be. We had time for me to get to the bottom of things.

When we pulled onto the road leading to her house rather than the resort, she frowned at me. “Where are you going?”

“Home. To put you to bed like the good doctor ordered.”

“I have staff to meet with and plans to make.”

“You pay all those people a shit ton of money to handle things. They’ll live without you for a day,” I told her.

“Goddamnit, Parker, this isn’t some band deciding not to show up. We had a major attack take place on my ranch. My guests experienced the worst thing many of them have ever experienced. They deserve my time and attention. Their families deserve it. My employees deserve it.”

“And what do you deserve? Exhaustion? Burnout? Irreversible brain damage because you don’t allow yourself to heal?” I growled. “Fuck that. I’ll take you back to the hospital and have them handcuff you to the bed before I’ll let you destroy yourself. Nothing is worth that happening. Not even this goddamn ranch.”

Fury burned in her eyes as I parked the pickup in front of her house. “Everything I’ve done my entire life has been for this legacy, so don’t you dare tell me what it’s worth.”

She jumped out of the vehicle and most likely would have headed to the path leading to the resort if her legs hadn’t buckled. Surprise crossed her face when she landed on her hands and knees. I swore, slammed the truck door, and sprinted around the front. She struggled to get to her feet, and I simply scooped her into my arms and carried her up the steps.

When she didn’t scream at me to put her down, worry coasted through me all over again.

I punched in the code she’d given me, opened the door, and then scanned the open space for signs of a threat. I put her down gently on the couch.

“Stay here while I clear the house,” I ordered.

I silently checked both suites and returned to find her with her eyes closed, head resting on the back of the couch. She was deathly pale once more.

I moved to her, drawn as I’d always been but denied. I let myself touch her, gently brushing my fingers through her messy hair. Her eyes popped open. What I saw there—the desolation and fear—speared me in the heart. A brutal stab I was sure would bleed out.