Page 97 of Drifter’s Heart

The cold blade presses at my side. The metal bites. Then, the searing pain.

Don’t let go. Don’t let her go. She can’t⁠—

And then falling, falling. Until the door opens even though I’m not the one who’s pulled it inward. Coal-gray eyes blazing. Weight lifting from my arms as he steps over me with fury etched in every deep line of his face.

The burning ice-cold pain leaves me, and I’m still falling while the world is upside down from where I lie. West’s shouts fill the room as hands press against my body. Everything looks like the inside of a fishbowl. Sound and light are distorted. His shouts dull and throb, but there are no more words of cruelty and pain.

And Sally is in my arms. I know that until someone tries to take her away. And the sensation of my throat burning joins the pain in my side.

The world shifts and everything is a blur of blue and black and white. Time rushes; seconds slow. And between it all, West is there. His hand rarely leaves mine. A few moments or hours where he’s gone when I blink. I’m in different rooms. Once when my side burns, and then the room is too bright and I’m floating. The coal-gray eyes are absent.

When I wake next, warmth is pressed to my side, and long hair hangs across my chest that’s not mine at all. My arm is numb beneath Sally’s head as I hold her to me. Actually, that might be the other way around; she’s still snoring. Someone has covered us with her wolf blanket. It smells like jasmine and Montana dust and home.

And West leans against the doorway, always watching.

THIRTY-TWO

WINNIE

Dusty Drips and Lucid Dreaming

My watcher snores.

I roll onto my side. I was dreaming of running along a hall toward Sally sleeping on a sofa past lots of closed doors but never reaching her, but the vision dissipates as I stretch toward West. His eyes are closed, and the hard lines that define his face soften in the morning light. At least, I think it’s morning. Neither of us catch a lot of sleep, as the nurses wake us regularly for observations.

The advantages of being a Rand, and the disadvantages. Because when my brother is paying, absolutely no one has the balls to say no.

I mewl as I turn too far, stretching my stitches. It took me three days to wake out of my drug-induced haze, and I’ve been here for that long again already. My hand rises to my side as West cracks his eyes open.

“Damn it, Winnie. Stay on your back.” He looms over me, hands pressed to my shoulders as he returns me to my regular place with infinite care, flicking my IV out of the way.

“I mean, if you ask nicely…” I bat my eyelashes suggestively. The action fails as sleep crusts in the corner and I squint unsexily at him.

He snorts. “Nice, Rand.”

I no longer object to his usage because the day I woke, I filled out the paperwork to change Sally’s and my surname back to my maiden name. The doctors objected I was making decisions too fast, but West forestalled everything, creating a buffer between me and the world. I spent time with Sally while he stood in the doorway, blocking everyone else out, including my brother, for a full two hours.

And I could breathe.

“I aim to please.” My voice comes out thin as I deplete the little energy I have, and I scrounge internally for more. “Can I go home today?” I ask hopefully.

West’s eyes narrow. “Winnie⁠—”

“Tomorrow.” My doctor, a dark-haired man with thick glasses who stands about half West’s height, steps quickly into my room like he’s afraid my resident cowboy might block him. “Tomorrow?” he repeats, looking up at West for approval.

West’s mouth sets in a tight line, but I’m ready to bounce off the bed. “Terrific. And the stitches?”

“You may have those removed in ten days, should the wound not present any further… complications.” Another glance at West.

I smother a smile behind my hand and use the wrong one. “Ow.”

Two sets of eyes laser-focus on me.

“Not ow ow, just… ow,” I explain hurriedly. “I should have used this hand… Never mind,” I sigh as they both descend on me, working in tandem to check my side.

Once I’m pronounced safe, my space is returned and I can breathe again. The doc says a few extra things that West listens to but I don’t and scurries out. I fix my cowboy with a stern eye, which he avoids.

“Wilder West. Do you have to scare everyone in sight?” I admonish him in my best paramedic’s voice.