The three-and-a-half-hour ride from Northstar to Missoula was excruciating. The miles and minutes dragged by even though Aaron drove faster than the already generous speed limit. Her right hand ached annoyingly, and she wished she’d taken Aaron up on his offer to stop at a gas station to pick up a bottle of ibuprofen or to make an ice pack, but the pain was nothing compared to the memories and scenarios that played through her mind. Aaron called the hospital several times throughout their drive for updates, running it through the Bluetooth in his truck so she could hear it, too, so they knew when Jeremiah had landed, but since then, every call had yielded the same answer—he was in surgery and there was no update.
No news is good news, she reminded herself. If he’d died, they would tell us.
At the hospital, Aaron went to check for news on Jeremiah while Heather had her hand checked. By the time the doctors finished poking and prodding and X-raying her right hand and determining that she did indeed have a boxer’s fracture, she was frantic. It couldn’t have taken more than an hour for the exam, but being so close to Jeremiah without a word about how he was doing was a lesson in balancing precariously on the edge of hysteria.
Just as the doctor was immobilizing her hand in a boxer’s splint, a nurse showed Aaron into the room.
“Any news on Jeremiah?”
He shook his head. “Nothing yet.”
“But he’s been in surgery almost three hours.”
“The nurses I talked to said it could take up to six. Maybe more.”
Finally noticing that he had neon pink tape wrapped around his left elbow, she asked, “What’s that?”
“Donated blood. Don’t know if they’ll be able to screen it in time to help Jeremiah, but if nothing else, it’ll replace some of what they’re using on him.”
“You’re the same blood type?”
Aaron nodded. “Me, Hen, Nick, Dad—we all are.”
Why was that such a comforting thought?
Because they’re his family. He has people who love him—people he has to stay alive for.
As soon as the doctor released her, she walked to Aaron and hugged him.
The doctor gave her instructions to care for her hand, but she didn’t pay any attention. This wasn’t her first boxer’s fracture; she’d live. Aaron walked with her to the receptionist’s desk to finish filling out the paperwork she hadn’t had time to complete before she’d been taken into the exam room. Writing with her fourth and fifth fingers immobilized by the splint pushed her to the brink of an explosion, so Aaron took the pen and clipboard and filled in her information as she gave it to him.
“How the hell are you so calm right now?”
“I’m not,” he replied, handing the clipboard to the receptionist. “I’ve just had training and a lot of experience shoving everything deep down until I’m free to give in to it. Ask Skye. She’s had to deal with me losing it at home after a bad day numerous times.”
They headed toward the waiting room of the ER where a trauma surgeon was currently doing his or her best to save Jeremiah’s life, and Heather tried to shove the worry down but failed miserably. She sat in the chair next to Aaron, leaning against him, and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing. She’d never had much patience for meditating, but she had to calm down or she’d send herself into a nervous breakdown before the night was over, and that wouldn’t do anyone any good.
Somehow, she managed to exhaust herself into a half-conscious state. A familiar contemporary rock song played faintly from somewhere nearby, and for a moment, she listened—it was one of her favorites. But then the lyrics filtered into her brain, bringing her back to full consciousness as their meaning sank in. The song was about a woman laying her lover in the ground, and an image flashed in her mind. In it, she was standing beside an open grave, surrounded by the Hammonds and many other familiar Northstar faces, and staring at a sleek oak casket bedecked with a huge bouquet of flowers.
No no no no. NO!
She jerked upright with fresh tears burned her eyes. “Whoever is playing that song, please stop,” she croaked. “Please.”
Why would her imagination do that to her? A tear slipped free when she pinched her eyes closed, and she let out a small squeak. The song played on, burning that image deeper into her mind. No… Jeremiah would be okay. That scene would not come to pass.
She opened her eyes again and glanced around, trying to locate the source of the song. “Please…. I can’t….”
Across the room, a woman about her age hastily poked at the screen of her smartphone, silencing the song, and stared at her with wide eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Heather whispered.
Aaron wrapped his arm around her and hugged her.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, not sure whom she was apologizing to.
“It’s okay, little sis. Go ahead and fall apart now so you can pull yourself back together by the time he wakes up.”
By the time he wakes up….
Aaron sounded so sure that would happen, but dammit, they hadn’t heard anything.
“Aaron? Heather?”
They rose together at Tracie’s call. Aaron’s mother ran to them, wrapping her arms around them both. Henry, Nick, and Skye were right behind her. Tracie spent at least two full minutes checking her son over to make sure Henry hadn’t lied to him and that Aaron was safe and unhurt. Then she released him and hugged Heather, nearly crushing her. The love in that embrace….
Heather shuddered and glanced over Tracie’s shoulder at the others as they came in close, silently reaffirming their familial bonds.
“Any news on Jeremiah?” Nick asked.
Aaron shook his head. “Still in surgery.”
“But he’s alive.”
He nodded. When Skye embraced her husband, Heather saw him buckle for the first time.
“I should’ve listened to him,” he whispered.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Aaron,” Skye said, clasping his face and forcing him to look at her. “You did everything you could within the bounds of the law.”
“Did I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“God… when he fell…. It was like Erica all over again.”
“I know, my love. But it isn’t. Jeremiah’s still with us, and he’s going to stay with us.”
Feeling like she was intruding on their private conversation, Heather turned away. Aaron had been the steady shoulder she’d needed to lean on, and the least she could do in return was give him a few moments with his wife to—as he’d said—fall apart so he could pull himself back together by the time Jeremiah needed them.
“How’s the hand?” Henry asked.
“You were right—boxer’s fracture on the fifth metacarpal. It hurts, but they gave me some ibuprofen, and it’s helping. Wish it’d help with worrying about Jeremiah, too.”
“Nothing but good news is going to help with that, I’m afraid. But take heart, little sis. The house fire couldn’t kill him, the deer he hit the night Aaron arrested him couldn’t kill him, and jail didn’t kill him. This bullet isn’t going to kill him, either.”
She nodded, hoping with every beat of her heart that he was right. Then she tilted her head. “Little sis? That’s the second time you’ve said that today, and Aaron just said it a couple minutes ago, too.”
“Well, you are, aren’t you? Maybe not officially yet, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re my honorary little sister now. And you were before this happened. And you will be even if you and Jeremiah don’t stay together.”
“Thank you.” She exhaled. “I really need that right now.”
He hugged her, and she almost started crying again.
“Anyhow, Christina and Curtis should be here in a bit.”
Oh, God. Her family. She hadn’t given them a second’s thought throughout this whole ordeal, and the thought of facing her brother right now threatened to overwhelm her. Then again… he had been pretty decent since the night Christina had walked out threatening to leave him. And she could really use her best friend’s company right now.
“They’re coming?”
“Curtis didn’t seem too keen on it, but I don’t think Christina gave him a choice.”
“I’m going to take Aaron to get some coffee,” Skye announced. “Heather, can I get you something?”
“Um… I could use a bottle of water. Thanks.”
Heather hunched over her knees, staring at the doors into the ER for a moment before she buried her face in her hands. Tracie sat beside her, rubbing her back, and without meaning to, Heather leaned toward her. The older woman didn’t say anything, and Heather marveled at her strength. Jeremiah might not be her son by blood, but he was her son in every other way, and this must be so incredibly hard on her, but she had love and strength enough in reserve to comfort Heather. Tracie didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. Her presence was enough.
Henry and Nick spoke quietly nearby, shifting restlessly between gratitude that Aaron was unhurt and fear for Jeremiah. After Aaron and Skye returned and handed Heather an ice-cold bottle of water, they joined Nick and Henry, and Aaron described everything that had happened in detail.
Heather clamped her hands over her ears. Being there had been bad enough, and it would undoubtedly haunt her dreams for a long time without hearing it all repeated again.
She lifted her eyes to the big clock on the far wall. Why was the second hand moving so slowly?
She took a long drink of her water, screwed the cap on and off and on again, and then spent two minutes tapping her fingers against the bottle. Then it was back to watching the clock’s hands. A few people came with minor emergencies, and even the woman who’d been playing the song on her phone was able to take her loved one home. Heather watched them all go, her anxiety rising with each one that walked out the door as she bounced between disbelief and numb terror.
Rapid footfalls echoed in the waiting area, approaching.
“Heather!”
She rose and turned toward the doors just in time for Christina to slam into her and wrap her in a tight hug. Curtis was a dozen paces behind his wife, looking harried and drawn.
“Thank God you’re okay,” Christina sighed. “How’s Jeremiah?”
“Don’t know yet. He’s still in surgery. He’s been in surgery for hours. Four now? Five? I’ve lost track.”
Curtis reached them and didn’t wait for Christina to step away before he hugged Heather. “I’m so sorry, Sis. He’ll be okay, though, right?”
“I don’t….” She drew in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know. But he’d better be.”
“Whatever I might think about him, he makes you happy, and that’s what matters. Of course, he’s starting to grow on me, too. He has a good heart.”
“He does.” Heather looked up at her brother. “Thank you.”
“I should warn you. Mom’s—”
“Heather!”
She winced at the shrill note in her mother’s voice.
“—here,” Curtis finished. “Sorry, Sis.”
“I do not need her stressing me out any more than I already am,” Heather muttered.
“I know, but she wouldn’t let us leave her at home. Not even to watch the kids—she asked Anna to take them.”
Lily reached her then and threw her arms around Heather’s neck. “Oh, thank God my baby girl is okay!”
“I’m fine, Mother.”
“I was so worried. We’ve been trying to call you for hours, but it keeps going to voicemail.”
“I’m sorry. My cell phone’s in my truck, which is still parked up at the allotment cabin. Everything happened so fast—it was crazy—I didn’t even think to grab it.”
Her mother hugged her again. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”
“More or less. I’d be a lot better if someone would just tell us how Jere is.”
Heather wandered back to her seat and perched on the edge of it with her hands folded in her lap. Aaron, Skye, and Henry moved to the other side of Tracie so Heather’s family could sit with her. Christina quickly took the chair to her left and folded her hands around Heather’s. Curtis sat beside his wife, leaving the chair to Heather’s right for Lily.
Just like that, she was back to waiting.
For a little while, she was glad to have her mother and Curtis and Christina here with her. Especially Christina. The heat of her friend’s hand in hers and the weight of Christina’s head on her shoulder was an anchor that kept her from being swept away by fear. But gradually the agitation radiating from her mother began to wear on her. For a while, Heather ignored it. But the longer she let it go unremarked, the more it grated on her. Realizing Lily hadn’t once asked about Jeremiah, Heather turned to her mother.
“Why did you come? I’m sure Henry told you I was okay.”
“I had to make sure for myself.”
Out of habit, she reached to comb her right hand through her hair and was suddenly reminded that her hand was in a split. She frowned at it and dropped her hand back into her lap.
“What’s wrong with your hand?”
“Boxer’s fracture. It’s fine.”
“How on earth did you get a boxer’s fracture?”
“How do you think? Punching someone.”
“Aaron said it was pretty impressive,” Henry remarked to Curtis. “Said your sister knocked Zach out with just five hits.”
Curtis reached behind his wife and gave Heather’s shoulder a squeeze. “Well done, Sis. How’d you do it?”
“The same combination you were never fast enough to master.”
He chuckled, and for the first time since this morning, she smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Curtis.” She hugged her friend. “And of course I’m glad you came, Christina. So glad.”
“Hey, Jeremiah’s my friend.” Christina let out a breath, her face pale. “I still can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I.”
Lily bolted to her feet. “All right, this has gone on long enough. We’re going home now, Heather. Go get your things out of Sheriff Hammond’s truck.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Surely her mother wasn’t asking—no, telling—her to leave the hospital right now.
“I know you think he’s a good man,” Lily continued, “and I love that you are so willing to look for the good in people, but now it’s time for you to end this foolishness.”
Her brain refused to process those words. They were just too absurd, even for her mother. “What foolishness?”
“This! All of this. Before you end up in the hospital, too. I will not stand by any longer and watch you throw your life away. I will not lose my daughter to this… this….”
Her mother gestured around the waiting room and at the Hammonds, who regarded her first with shock and then with revulsion and anger. Unlike Lily Brown, however, they were too gracious to give voice to it. Heather’s gaze locked on them, and Tracie and Aaron both gave her a subtle nod.
Without a word, she understood their message. This was her battle to fight, and they believed she was more than capable of waging it on her own… that she needed to fight it herself. But they had her back just as Jeremiah had had her back since their first date on her birthday.
“I’m not leaving Jeremiah,” she said, rising slowly and glaring down at her mother. “Not now. Not ever.”
“Look what he’s dragged you into!”
“How dare you.”
Even to her ears, her voice sounded low, deadly, and from the corner of her vision, she saw smug pride infiltrate the Hammonds’ expressions, but her mother scowled at her, oblivious. She jabbed her finger toward the doors into the ER.
“He is in there fighting for his life!” She stared her mother down, her lip curled in disgust, and when Lily opened her mouth to retort, she said, “No.”
Something in her voice must’ve hit the right nerve because her mother jerked back like she’d been slapped.
“Not another word. You are done talking. You’re going to listen now.”
Wide-eyed, her mother responded with silence. For once.
“For years, I have picked men I thought would please you. Men that fit your ideals of what a good man is. And not one of them gave me the courage to open up about the night I contemplated killing myself.”
Lily flinched.
“You want to know who gave me the courage to open up about it? Go ahead and guess. That’s right. Jeremiah.” She loosened the laces of her wrist band and yanked it off. She’d never wear it again. When she held her hand up and turned the inside of her wrist to her mother, breath sucked through Lily’s teeth. “I did that when I was seventeen—the night I broke Brock’s nose. The night my entire family left me alone to cry myself out in the barn with my horse because they blamed me entirely for the fight without giving me even half a chance to defend myself. Jeremiah was the first person I told the whole truth to… because, instead of tearing me down like you do, he built me up and loved me for who I am, flaws and all.”
Her body quivered with a lifetime of pent-up rage.
“Heather, please.”
She held her mother’s gaze, daring her to contradict any of it. When anger ignited in Lily’s eyes, she tensed, ready for the fight.
“This will end right now. You see what that boy is doing to you? He’s got you so tied up in knots that you can’t even see what he is.”
“No, it’s you who can’t see. He’s in that operating room because he stepped in front of a bullet meant for Aaron. He was willing to sacrifice his life to save his brother’s.”
“Aaron isn’t his brother.”
“Like hell I’m not,” Aaron snapped.
“All that and you still question his heart.” A strange calm washed over her—the same serenity she usually found only when she was alone with Jeremiah. There was a line she’d been waiting for her mother to cross, and that was it. When she spoke again, it was with a level voice. “I am done with you. You hear me? You, Dad, Brock, Brianna—I am fucking done with you all.”
“Heather, please don’t do this. Please, come home.”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she returned to her chair, picked up her water bottle, and took a long drink. Her mother’s increasingly tearful pleas fell on deaf ears, and finally, Curtis excused himself to escort his mother out to the car. She expected him to return, but minutes passed, and he still hadn’t come back. Then Christina’s cell phone dinged with a new text message.
“He took her to a hotel,” she said. “She’s hysterical, so he’s going to sit with her for a little while.”
“I really don’t give a damn. But it’s good of him to put up with her. Tell him I’m sorry for putting him in that position.”
“I will do no such thing,” Christina retorted. “He still has a lot to make up for.”
Heather’s lips quirked.
A doctor stepped through the doors to the ER, but she’d seen so many come and go that she didn’t pay the woman any attention.
“Sheriff Hammond?”
Everyone rose and turned to the door, gathering together as they waited anxiously for the report. The doctor looked tired but…. Heather couldn’t quite decide. Relieved? Pleased? That had to mean good news, right?
Aaron stood and gestured for the doctor to join them.
“He’s out of surgery. He was lucky—the bullet just barely missed his heart. It went through his left lung and lodged in a rib, but it was a fairly straight shot, and we were able to remove the bullet. I assume you’ll need it as evidence, Sheriff?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Aaron replied.
“He may need another transfusion or two before this is all over, and we’ve got him on the ventilator to regulate his breathing and make sure that lung stays inflated. He’s also got a chest tube in place to drain off the excess air and fluids in his chest cavity.”
“Is he awake?”
“No, and we’re going to keep him sedated while he’s on the ventilator.”
“How long will he be on that?” Tracie asked.
“We’re going to see how he does tonight before we make that call, but hopefully only overnight.”
“He’s going to be all right, though?” Heather asked.
The doctor smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. There was so much hope in that smile. “He’s not out of danger yet, but I’m optimistic.”
Suddenly, her legs couldn’t hold her, and she leaned heavily on the person closest to her—Henry.
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “See? I told you this wouldn’t kill him, little sis. He’s got too much to live for.”
“Heather? Why don’t you go in to see him first,” Aaron suggested. “I need to talk to the doctor for a few minutes, and then I’ll be right behind you.”
Christina gave her a hug as she left the group and followed the doctor’s directions to the ICU room Jeremiah had been moved to. A nurse was just stepping outside when she reached it, and he smiled brightly as he held the door open with a chipper come on in.
The room was mostly dark; the lights were off and the heavy curtains were drawn across the window. There was another nurse at Jeremiah’s bedside, jotting notes on her clipboard, but Heather paid her little attention. Her gaze was drawn to the man in the bed.
The crisp sterility of the blankets on the bed and the hospital gown were a sharp contrast to the blood-soaked T-shirt she’d cut off him hours ago. She shuddered when she took in all the tubes and wires—the ventilator, the chest tube, the IV, and the various monitors. They and the beeping of the machines drove home even harder than the blood just how close he’d come to death and reminded her that he still wasn’t too far from it.
“I’ll leave you alone with him,” the second nurse said when she’d finished her task. She slipped quietly from the room and closed the door.
Heather pulled a chair over and sat lightly in it. Tentatively, she slipped her hand around Jeremiah’s. What she wouldn’t give to see his beautiful, kind eyes open and crinkle at the corners as he smiled at her….
“Hey,” she whispered. “Glad you’re still with us.”
There was no response, and even though she hadn’t expected one, the silence was agonizing. Her eyes burned, and she didn’t bother trying to fight it. The tears fell, streaming silently down her cheeks as she stroked Jeremiah’s hand with her thumb. His skin was cool, but there was enough warmth in it to reassure her.
“That’s right. You have to stick around for a long time because I need you.” A lyric came to mind from the song she’d asked the woman in the waiting room to stop playing, and a sob escaped her. “The angels can’t have you yet.”