Page 136 of Truck Up
It’s going to take time for the fear that gripped me earlier to completely subside. The image of Badger’s crazed eyes, the feel of his icy grip around my neck, will haunt me for years to come.
I look at Christian. He’s watching me with an intensity that makes my heart race. His face is still pale, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and love.
He presses a light kiss to my lips, his gaze never leaving mine. “I love you,” he says, his voice low and husky.
I nod, unable to speak. His words send a jolt through me. I look into his eyes, and I see everything I’ve ever wanted from him. It’s far more than just anger and protectiveness that’s driving him now. It’s love.
My emotions are too much, and my breath catches in my throat. I’ve waited for so long to hear those words, and now he’s told me twice.
He reaches out and gently touches my cheek, his fingers tracing the outline of my face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the raw fury I witnessed earlier.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. “I promise.”
More sirens sound outside, adding another layer of chaos to the already chaotic scene.
“We have to take you to the hospital,” Aaron says again.
Christian looks up and meets Aaron’s gaze. Then he nods. “I’m not leaving her side.”
“Understood.” Aaron squeezes Christian’s shoulder. “You can ride in the ambulance with us.”
Within minutes, I’m ushered into the back of the ambulance, Christian and my brothers flanking me. Linden and Aaron exchange worried glances while Christian clutches my hand tightly, his knuckles white.
The ride to the hospital feels surreal. The sirens wail, a constant reminder of the terror I just endured. I glance at Christian, who’s sitting just a few feet away. He maintains his distance, allowing the emergency medical professionals space to do their job, but his eyes never leave mine.
At the hospital, I’m examined by a flurry of doctors and nurses. They check for internal injuries, but thankfully, I seem to be physically unharmed with the exception of a few bruises. As far as they can tell, the baby is fine too.
The emotional trauma, however, is a different story. That might take years to recover from.
Once I’m settled in a room, my family comes to see me. I’m overwhelmed with love and hugs and tears.
I glance around looking for Christian. My brothers had to pry him away when I was wheeled into the ER. He didn’t want to leave my side, but they wouldn’t let him in the examination room with me.
“Where’s Christian,” I ask.
“Talking to the police,” Mom answers as she takes my hand. “He’ll be here soon.”
My family takes turns sitting with me, telling me stories and trying to distract me from the terrifying events of the day. It feels like a lifetime passes before Christian finally shows up.
He stands awkwardly by the doorway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looks exhausted, his face tired and drawn.
He must have seen a doctor because his face is cleaned up. He has stitches on his forehead and chin. He’ll likely have some new scars once those heal.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.
I manage a weak smile. “I’m okay.”
He nods, but I can see the worry etched on his face. “And the baby?”
My smile grows, and I rub my stomach in a protective motion. “Also fine. They want to monitor me overnight, though. That was a lot of trauma for someone this early in a pregnancy. So they want to make sure we’re both fine.”
Relief washes over him as the tension and stress of the day begin to fade away. “Good.”
Mom pats my hand and pushes to her feet. “We’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” Then she kisses my forehead. “Get some rest, dear.”
My family leaves, each of them patting or hugging Christian on their way out. If I didn’t witness it with my own eyes, I’d never believe it.
Christian pulls up a chair and sits beside my bed, his gaze fixed on me.