AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Thanks.” She turned to her sister. “Okay?”
“Yes. Go. I expect details when your boyfriend is stable.”
“That’s a deal.” She hurried toward the bedroom.
Inside, one of the medics had ripped Trace’s shirt and tugged it off him, the bloody remnants in a heap at the side of the bed. A plastic sheet covered the mattress. Sam was setting up an IV while Jake cleaned a bleeding wound in Trace’s shoulder.
Bridget swallowed hard, fighting to keep her dinner in her stomach. No time to barf now. She could be sick after Trace was stable. “How bad is it?”
If she lost him, Bridget realized she’d never recover. That’s when she understood the depths of her feelings for the handsome operative. Bridget had fallen in love with Trace Young sometime in the past few days.
“Looks like a through-and-through,” Jake said. “He’ll need the doc to look at it when we reach Bayside and might need surgery, but he should be fine.”
“Is he unconscious due to blood loss?”
“When he was shot, Trace hit the side of the jet. Probably has a concussion.”
She heard the unspoken concern in the medic’s voice and saw a matching worry on Sam’s face. Head injuries could be serious. She could lose him. Bridget blinked back tears. “How can I help?”
Jake rattled off a list of things to look for in his medical bag. She wondered if he was just giving her something to do to keep her occupied. Didn’t matter. Bridget needed to do something to help the man she loved.
Over the next hour, she handed Sam and Jake supplies, then tugged on a pair of gloves and cleaned the blood from his upper body. Watching the medics work like a well-oiled machine had been eye opening. They had cleaned out Trace’s shoulder wound, used a pressure bandage on both sides of his shoulder, and run an IV with antibiotics, pain medicine, and fluids.
Sam warned her that more than likely Trace would need the shoulder repaired and extensive physical therapy. As long as he was alive, Bridget would deal with any complications from his injury.
After an hour of fast-paced activity dealing with Trace’s injury, the medics had left her alone for a few minutes with the downed operative to check on the others, including Hugo. Bridget sat beside an unconscious Trace with her back against the wall. She couldn’t help but stroke his hair with shaking fingers, careful to avoid the area with the large goose egg.
Worry gnawed at her like a hungry rat. Why didn’t he wake up? She’d seen the silent looks the two medics exchanged. Although they didn’t say as much, they were worried. “Come on, Trace. Wake up. You’re scaring me.” Nothing. “We have important things to talk about.” Like how much she adored him and dreamed of a life with him, one filled with laughter and children and a pet. “Please, come back to me.”
When he didn’t respond, she brushed her lips over his in a gentle kiss. “I love you, Trace Young. Fight for me.”
Bridget leaned her head back against the wall and allowed her eyelids to drift shut. The adrenaline dumped into her bloodstream had long since worn off and now all she wanted to do was nap with Trace’s arms around her. Holding him close with her pressed to his side would have to do.
Minutes later, she woke to Sam returning to the room.
“Sorry to wake you.” She checked Trace’s vitals again as well as the IV. When she finished, Sam said, “Call out for me when he wakes.”
When, not if. The knot in her stomach loosened. Bridget nodded.
The medic left again, this time leaving the door open. Bridget settled back to wait with only her own thoughts for company.
Fifteen minutes later, Trace’s breathing changed and he groaned, a grimace on his face.
“Trace? Can you hear me?”
His lips curved slightly. “Blond and beautiful, right?”
Tears stung her eyes at his gentle tease. “On a normal day.”
Trace’s eyelids fluttered up. “What happened?”
“You were shot in the shoulder and have a concussion. You’ve been taking a nap.”
“Nico’s okay?”
Of course he would think about his team leader, the man he’d been protecting when he was shot. “He’s fine.”
A slight nod. “How bad’s the shoulder?”
