West stopped at his side. “Marissa.” He tipped his goofy sheriff’s hat and smiled. “You’re hard to get rid of.”
She lifted a palm for a weak high five. “Like a bad rash.”
“She needs medical attention,” Blake complained.
“Here!” Cole raced into view, sliding through wet leaves and mud. The familiar silver stripes of a medical backpack gleamed in the waning sun. “The ski park sent an ATV to the plateau.” He pointed in the direction from which he’d come. “There’s an ambulance waiting just beyond that slope.” He reached for Marissa, but Blake stepped away.
His eyes blurred with powerful unshed emotion. “I’ve got her.”
And he had no intention of letting her go.
Chapter Eighteen
Marissa peeled her heavy lids open and squinted against the bright fluorescent light. The scents of bleach and Band-Aids tickled her nose. “Blake,” she croaked, her throat impossibly dry.
“She’s awake.” Her mother’s worried face swam into view.
Her mother. Marissa’s frantic heart slowed by a fraction. She was safe. Nash was dead.
Blake had saved her, but where was he now?
“Thank goodness.” Marissa’s mother stroked her hair and kissed her cheeks. “We were terrified. You lost so much blood.”
Marissa forced a smile on her tired face as she struggled for a better look at her surroundings. The simple hospital room was standard white on white with soft green accents and thick light-filtering curtains. The local news played softly on an old tube television anchored in the far corner near the ceiling. Nash’s picture was wedged in the bottom corner of the screen. It was a face she longed to never see again, but knew full well he’d visit her dreams every night for years. She lifted a hand to set upon her mother’s and discovered an IV line taped to her skin.
Her father levered himself out of an uncomfortable-looking chair and joined Marissa’s mother at her bedside. Deep lines raced over her father’s forehead. “She’s got more color.”
“You lost so much blood,” her mother repeated.
“And Blake?” Marissa asked. “Did he go home?” Surely, he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye.
“Knock knock.” A woman in a white lab coat sashayed through the door with a clipboard and a smile. “Good morning, Miss Lane. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”
Marissa’s parents moved to the foot of her bed, eyes locked on the physician.
“I’m Dr. Starcher,” the woman said. “I’ve been looking after you since your arrival last night.”
“Thank you.” Marissa choked.
The doctor poured a plastic cup of water from a bedside pitcher and handed it to her. “You had us all a little worried. I’m not sure how much your parents have had time to tell you, but you fractured your ankle. You have a mild concussion and were treated for hypothermia, multiple lacerations, extensive bruising and were given quite a few stitches for the cut on your leg.”
Marissa blinked long and slow as the list of ailments and injuries settled in. She sipped the water and waited for her clogged throat to open again.
“You’re one tough cookie,” the doctor continued, “but I’ll bet you’ve heard that a time or two.” She cast a warm smile at Marissa’s anxious parents before turning her attention to the pages on her clipboard. “After speaking to the agent and local sheriff about the week you’ve had, I’d say it’s a miracle you’re in as good of shape as you are.” She tucked the board under one arm and gazed at the machinery near Marissa’s bed. “All things considered, I guess dating a federal agent comes in handy at times like these.”
“Agent Garrett?” Marissa guessed. Finally, someone who might tell her where he went.
Sadly, she and Blake weren’t dating, but after all that they’d been through, she wished they were so much more. He was passionate and kind. Confident and funny. Blake had kept her safe but given her the space to be strong on her own. He trusted her choices, but always had her back. And that kiss. She smiled at the rising memory.
Blake was the one who set her soul on fire.
The doctor tipped her head toward the door. “That man hasn’t left since we moved you in here. He set up shop right outside and personally monitored every guest until dawn, my nurses included. I think he may have finally fallen asleep.”
Marissa’s gaze jumped to the large silhouette suddenly filling her doorway. An exhausted-looking Blake leaned one shoulder against the jamb. Thick purple crescents underlined each sharp blue eye. A mix of relief and regret played over his handsome features.
Her heart swelled with happiness. “No. He doesn’t sleep.” Marissa patted the bed beside her legs.
The doctor bobbed her head. “There he is. I guess you’re right.” She gave Marissa a wink. “Everything looks good here. We’ll get you some crutches for your ankle and a prescription for the pain. The cast comes off in a few weeks, but I’ll write up your release papers this afternoon. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful,” her mother said. “She’ll be staying with us. I’ve made up her old room.”
Marissa would have that discussion with her mom later. At the moment, she was afraid to take her eyes off of Blake in case he might disappear.
Blake inched into the room and took position against the wall.
“That sounds lovely.” The doctor waved her parents through the doorway. “Let’s talk a little more about that outside.” She pulled the door closed behind them.
Marissa’s heart sprinted along in her chest. Blake had stayed. What did that mean?
She patted her bed again.
Regret won the fight over relief on Blake’s features. “I shouldn’t. I’m big, and that bed is small, and you’re covered in bruises. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her gaze fell to her bare arms, visible in the ugly hospital gown. A rainbow of shades from brown to gold splayed over her pale skin. “Get over here.”
His cheek twitched, and he obeyed, slowly. Blake stopped at her bedside and drifted his gaze over her face, neck and arms. “I’m so sorry.”
She grabbed his wrist and tugged him down to
