Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52062 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
38
HOLLY
The waiting room is too quiet. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, and every surface gleams with that particular hospital shine that makes everything feel cold and clinical and wrong.
I stare down at my hands. Nikolai's blood has dried under my fingernails and in the creases of my palms.
The door opens, and Dmitri walks in. His arm is in a sling, and he carries his suit jacket draped over his good shoulder. He moves carefully, favoring his injured side, but his face is composed.
He takes the seat beside me.
"How is he?" Dmitri asks, his voice rough.
"Surgery." The word comes out barely above a whisper. "They said it would be a few hours."
I fight the tears that have been threatening to fall since they loaded Nikolai into the ambulance. Since I watched them cut away his blood-soaked shirt and saw how pale he was as they tried to save his life.
I manage to hold them back. Because Nikolai needs me to be strong.
Dmitri nods slowly, his eyes fixed on the wall across from us. "He'll be okay."
I want to believe him. But all I can see is Nikolai falling. All I can hear is the gunshot, and all I can feel is his blood warm and wet on my hands as I pressed against the wound and begged him not to die.
"He's strong," Dmitri continues. "Stronger than anyone I know."
I glance at him. This man who barely speaks. Who moves through the world like a shadow. But right now, sitting here with his arm in a sling and worry etched into the lines around his eyes, he looks almost vulnerable.
"I've never had a brother," Dmitri says quietly. His gaze is still on the wall, but I can tell he's lost somewhere in his memories. "But if I did, it would be Nikolai."
The tears I've been holding back surge forward, and I have to bite my lip to keep them contained.
"That's what he says about you," I whisper.
Dmitri turns to look at me then, and something passes between us. An understanding. A shared fear for the man we both care about.
He places his good hand over mine, careful not to disturb the dried blood.
"What if he dies?" The question tumbles out before I can stop it, small and scared.
Dmitri's mouth curves into the smallest smile. "He's not going anywhere."
"How can you be so sure?"
His eyes hold mine, steady and certain. "Because he just found you."
Before I can respond, the door opens again.
A doctor steps in, still wearing surgical scrubs, a mask pulled down around her neck.
"Mrs. Morozov?" she asks.
I surge to my feet. "Yes. Is he alive?"
"Mr. Morozov made it through surgery," she says, and the relief is so sudden and overwhelming that my knees nearly give out. Dmitri steadies me with his good arm. "The bullet missed all major organs and arteries. He's incredibly lucky. With proper rest and physical therapy, he will make a full recovery."
I press my hand to my mouth, trying to hold in the sob that wants to escape.
"Can I see him?" My voice cracks on the words.
"Of course. Follow me."
She leads me down a corridor that smells like antiseptic and recycled air. My heart pounds with every step, torn between desperate hope and lingering fear.
She stops at a door and pushes it open. "He's still sedated, but he should wake soon."
I step inside.
The room is dim, the only light coming from the monitors that beep steadily beside the bed. Medical equipment hums and clicks in the quiet.
And there he is.
My husband.
Lying in the hospital bed, he’s so still it makes my chest ache.
He's shirtless, and the sight of him alive and breathing nearly breaks me. White gauze covers the left side of his chest, stark against his tanned skin. His dark hair is mussed and falls across his forehead. His face peaceful in a way I've never seen it before. He’s still strong and beautiful, even like this.
I move to his bedside on trembling legs and sink into the chair someone has placed there. My hand finds his, and his skin is warm as I bring it to my lips.
I love you.
I don't know how long I sit there, just holding his hand and watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. Minutes. Hours. Time loses all meaning.
Then his fingers twitch in mine.
"Nikolai?" I lean forward, my free hand hovering over his face, not quite daring to touch. "Can you hear me?"
His eyelids flutter. Then slowly, they open.
Those bright blue eyes I know so well find mine, unfocused at first, then sharpening with recognition.
"Malyshka." It’s barely a rasp.
"I'm here." The tears finally fall, hot and fast down my cheeks. "I'm right here."
His hand tightens around mine with surprising strength. "You're okay?"
Of course his first concern is for me.
"I'm fine. You're the one who…" My voice breaks. "You took a bullet for me."