Page 86 of From That Moment

“We’re looking for the Brady family?” a man said from the doorway.

“That’s us,” Cross said.

I vaguely remembered someone saying that before when we were here for Cross and Macon.

How much of my friends’ blood would be spilled before we got through the hell that kept coming at us?

Blood roared in my ears as the doctors came in, explaining what had happened. I couldn’t focus on what they were saying. I could barely hear at all. When people started crying, relief evident on their faces, my knees buckled. Then I was in Nate’s arms, Prior’s brother holding me as I tried to rationalize what was happening.

“He’s going to be okay, Paris. He’s going to be just fine. So fine, in fact, if he hears that I held you like this, he’s probably going to hurt me. So, buck up and get strong. Because as soon as Prior’s healthy, he’s going to kick my ass.”

And then I was laughing and crying at the same time, my arms wrapped around his neck as the others began to speak, the doctor explaining more. I would listen soon. I would ask the others what had happened. But for now, I needed to breathe. And I needed to see the person that I loved.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t see him until the next day. It had been a long night. He was finally in his own room, safe, and hopefully waking up soon.

The others had already seen him, but I said I’d wait.

Was it because I was still afraid? Maybe. Or perhaps I simply wanted every ounce of time I could get with him, and if that meant waiting for the others to get their fill, then I would do it. I was never leaving again.

He looked so pale, so big in that little bed. Maybe they used special beds in movies or on TV to fit those big actors. Prior looked far too large for that cot of his.

They had it somewhat inclined, and he didn’t have a tube down his throat.

Somehow, the knife hadn’t hit anything too critical. He’d sustained slices to his spleen, though, hence why he had nearly bled out and died. They had removed the organ and explained that he might be more susceptible to infection and disease now, but there were injections and vaccines he could take to supplement that.

In the end, it could have been his kidney, or his liver, or something even more vital.

Nothing else had been cut into, not that they could tell, and they’d quickly gotten the bleeding under control once they removed his spleen.

He would be in pain for a while, and it would take some time before he could walk and move and play football like he used to.

He had already spoken to the others and smiled, and then he had fallen asleep again, his body exhausted and trying to heal itself.

After saving me.

And now I was alone in the room with him, too afraid to touch him.

He looked so fragile. My big, strong Prior with the strong jaw and thick thighs and broad shoulders. And yet I had almost lost him. Right when I had just found him.

I reached out, wanting to grip his hand, yet so afraid I’d hurt him.

“I’m not made of glass, Paris, baby.”

I startled, blinking, my hand dropping. “Prior.” My voice cracked, and I quickly wiped tears from my face.

“Don’t cry.”

“I might just cry. You almost died.”

“I’d say the phrase ‘so did you’, but then I’ll get angry again, and I don’t think I have the energy to be angry right now. That’ll come later.”

I sat up and moved forward, still not touching him.

“You can touch me, Paris. Please, do. I need you to be real. I kept having dreams that you were standing there, right near me, yet I couldn’t touch. So I need you to be real.”

Tears were freely falling down my face now, and I reached out and slid my hand into his. It was so warm, he felt so alive. And when he squeezed back, I let out a choking sob.

“I told you not to cry.”