Fall Into You (Morally Gray, #2)(94)

We ordered straight from the bar instead of having the waitress bring us our drinks, a new paranoia I doubt either of us will ever rid ourselves of. I’ve got whiskey, she’s got a skinny margarita, and it feels like old times.

Or at least it mostly does. Except for the hole in my chest where my heart used to be.

“So catch me up,” she says, sipping her drink. “What’s the latest?”

I give her a shortened version of my phone call with Cole. It makes her eyes bug. The she frowns. “I heard his spinal injury was sacral.”

“If I spoke ER nurse, I’d know what you mean.”

“Him being who he is, everything was super hush-hush at the hospital, but a nurse from the critical care unit told one of the nurses in pediatrics I know that the patient they code named Mr. Big had a sacral injury. Every spine injury is serious to varying degrees, but of the different types, that one’s considered the least serious. Many patients are able to walk.”

I almost choke on my whiskey. “Walk?”

“It all depends on the person and the level of damage to the nerves, but…yeah.”

My heart is hammering so hard, I have to press my hand on my chest to try to slow it. “I don’t think that’s it, then. He made it sound like nothing below the waist was working.”

“I’d go in and look at his file for you, but everything’s tracked in the system. I’d be fired if I got caught. We’re not allowed to access information on patients we’re not directly caring for.”

“I’d never ask you to do that.”

She smiles. “You totally would, and you know it.”

“Yeah. I would. But don’t. If you got fired, it would just be the cherry on top of my clusterfuck sundae.” I sigh and take another sip of whiskey. “So if him being there was so hush-hush, how’d they know to call him Mr. Big?”

“Oh, he didn’t get that nickname because he’s a McCord. He got it because he’s so girthy. The nursing assistant who changed his bedding started calling him Mr. Big the first night he was admitted.”

I stare at her in horror.

After a moment, she says, “At least they didn’t call him Mr. Shrimpy. Or Boomawang if it was curved. I’ve heard those too.”

“Dear God. Remind me never to set foot in a hospital again.”

She raps her knuckles on the table. “Knock wood.”

We sit in silence for a while, nursing our drinks. Then she says, “So your mom. How’s that going?”

“We’re talking every Sunday now. She’s still not drinking. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but so far, so good. I’m going to see her for Thanksgiving.”

Chelsea reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Okay. Silver linings, right? We take ’em where we can.”

I exhale and shrug. “Yep. Have you talked to Jen or Angel lately? I’ve been so wrapped up in my own little bubble, I haven’t reached out.”

Chelsea doesn’t answer. I glance up at her, and she’s staring over my shoulder with big, unblinking eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

She says faintly, “Um. You might want to turn around.”

Frowning, I look over my shoulder. Then I see what she’s looking at, and my stomach drops, my lungs seize, and my pulse skyrockets.

The dark-haired man in the booth is gorgeous, but I can tell with one glance that he’s also trouble. A wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing. In a conservative black suit and white dress shirt, he could be any other businessman enjoying a drink with friends after work.

Except he’s alone.

And he’s not enjoying himself.

He looks how I feel: miserable.

Tears well in my eyes. My chest constricts. With the scar on his face and his hair buzzed short like Axel’s, he looks so much the same as the last time I saw him but also very different.

He’s thinner. Paler. But dear God, how those blue eyes still burn.

To the right of his booth is an empty wheelchair.

I’m on my feet without making a conscious decision. I run across the bar, dodging tables and almost knocking a waiter off his feet, then throw myself into Cole’s outstretched arms and burst into tears.

I cry and cry as he holds me tightly, rocking me and murmuring my name over and over like a prayer.

Still sobbing I say, “It’s you. You’re here. How are you here?”

He answers in a voice impossibly warm and soft. “I finally realized I was never going to get rid of you. I knew you’d keep coming back, like mold. Oh, and Scotty sent me your memo with a courier. I figured since I’d carved my name on your heart, I should probably claim it.”

I want to pound a fist on his shoulder, but only cling to him instead, relief and euphoria burning through me. “But how are you here?”

“Just lucky timing, I guess.”

Wet faced and hiccupping, I pull away and look at him.

His smile is small and breathtakingly beautiful. “Okay, fine, I called the chief and had him put one of his guys on you.”

“His guys? You mean a police officer?”

“Yes.”

“You had me tailed by the police?”

“It sounds bad when you say it.”

“Because it is bad!”

“It was only the one time. I just wanted to see where you’d be today so I could come surprise you.”