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PATRICK GROANED AS medics rushed him down a hallway on a rolling cot. People rushed around him shouting out orders. Where was he? What was going on? It felt like his entire abdomen was on fire and that his head was splitting in two. The bright lights shining above him in the hall caused him to cringe, and waves of nausea washed over him.
“He’s lost a significant amount of blood,” a voice above him said in a clipped tone.
“We administered morphine to help with the pain,” a second person said. A hand gripped his wrist, checking his pulse. There was blood covering his arm.
His own, he realized.
A loud beeping over the loudspeaker pierced the otherwise silent hallway. “Code blue, code blue. Report to OR 1.”
They rounded a corner, and white-hot pain shot through him. His ribs felt like they’d been snapped in two. Like he’d never be able to take a normal breath again. The burning in the open wound on his side was searing. Agonizing. Never ending.
He clenched his fists, willing the pain to subside. Trying to imagine he was anywhere else but here suffering. Patrick tried to take a breath, but there were tubes of some sort rammed down his throat and an oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose.
He tried to move his arms, but they were either strapped down or he was too weak to lift them.
“On my count—one, two, three!”
He was abruptly lifted from the rolling stretcher onto a gurney, and it felt like someone was jamming a hot poker into his side. Someone was cutting off his torn, bloody fatigues. He vaguely realized his flak vest and helmet were already long gone. Probably abandoned after the flight out to wherever the hell he was.
He moaned as Rebecca’s face again flashed through his mind. Seconds later it was images of the kids—Logan, Abby.
He had to get home to them.
“Let’s get him into surgery. Page Dr. Powers.”
The searing pain in his side was too much to bear as they pushed him forward down a different hall, and he once again surrendered to the darkness.
***
REBECCA GASPED AS SHE sat up in Patrick’s bed, the horrors of last night all rushing back. A cold sweat broke out over her skin as her pulse sky-rocketed, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She reached over and scrambled to grab her phone off the nightstand, frantic that she’d missed a call from his CO.
That it was too late.
5:21 a.m.
No missed calls, no messages.
Nothing.
Blowing out a breath, she relaxed slightly, nausea replacing the immediate panic she’d had. Her stomach roiled, and she held a hand to it, taking a deep breath.
Was it morning sickness again? A panic attack?
Her phone dug into her palm, she was clutching it so tightly.
She willed herself to calm down, breathing deeply for a minute as she slowly counted to ten in her mind.
Exhaling, her body began to relax a notch.
No news was good news in some ways. She hadn’t missed an urgent call saying Patrick didn’t make it. Hadn’t missed someone from the military showing up at the front door. That had to be the worst job of all—showing up on the doorstep of some unsuspecting family, telling them that their loved one had been killed and was never coming home again.
Barely any time had passed since she’d left the hospital, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. Before and after. Everything had been okay when she’d arrived at the hospital to see Alison. Back then, the worst she could imagine was that her baby was coming a month early and would end up in the NICU.
And then, in a flash, Rebecca’s entire world had begun to fall apart.
Stubborn tears began to roll down her cheeks, despite her will not to cry. If the kids saw her in a couple of hours with red eyes and a tear-stained face, they’d know right away something was wrong. Abby had been so young when her dad was killed, she didn’t understand or remember that much about him.
But this?
Logan was old enough to fully understand what it meant that his dad was injured. Abby, too. And if he was killed?
If he never came back home to them?
“Oh God,” she whispered. Her hand went to her forehead as her breath caught.
She sucked in a huge gulp of air, feeling dizzy. The room began to spin, and she clutched Patrick’s sheets in one fist.
Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing. Either he’d be injured—gravely wounded, recovering in a hospital in Germany or stateside. Spending months in recovery and rehab. Or he’d succumb to his injuries. Come home in a casket.
But no, she couldn’t even let herself think about that horrible option.
She wouldn’t.
She sniffed, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, and she heard a soft knock at the bedroom door. She gasped for a breath and hastily wiped her eyes. She might as well join Sarah, and they could sit and wait for news together. Clearly, she wasn’t getting any sleep either tonight.
“Any word?” Sarah asked, an anxious look on her face as Rebecca opened the door.
“No. Nothing.” She swatted at the stray tear rolling down her cheek.
“I heard you in here,” Sarah said, giving her a quick hug. “I couldn’t sleep either.” She stepped back and rearranged her hair in a messy bun, the three small earrings in her ear glinting in the dim light.
“Let’s go make some tea and sit and wait. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at all until I hear an update from Ryan.”
“Me either. Come on, let’s go sit in the kitchen.”
“Thanks again for coming over to watch the kids while I checked on Alison earlier. I don’t know what I would’ve done without anyone here after I got the news about Patrick.”
“I cannot believe that Ryan called and told you that over the phone,” Sarah huffed. “I specifically told him to leave and go find you so he could tell you in person. I even threatened to go find you myself.”
Rebecca blew out a breath, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table. “He tried to find me,” she said with a shrug. “He said he came to the house, then to the hospital. I’m not sure what else he could’ve done aside from driving around all night. I know he wanted to tell me in person, but he had to get back to base. The rest of the team is still over there running whatever mission they’re on.”
“I guess,” Sarah muttered, grabbing two boxes of tea from the cupboard. “My brother hates this green tea. Naturally it’s my absolute favorite.”
Rebecca let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I think he mentioned that actually.”
“Figures,” Sarah said, filling two mugs with water and then sticking them into the microwave to warm up. “We’re about as opposite as can be.”
Rebecca’s gaze slid to the clock on the wall. “The kids will be up early. God, to have to tell Logan that his dad was hurt? It’s going to be horrible.”
“Do they have camp today?”
“Yeah, actually they do. Maybe I should just send them and tell them later when I know more. I mean, saying that his dad is injured but will be home is a hell of a lot better than the alternative. And I barely have any information myself at the moment.”
“Let’s wait and tell the kids. And if you don’t hear from Ryan, I’ll drive over to base myself and raise hell.”
“God, I’d love to see that,” Rebecca said.
Sarah smirked. “Ryan’s used to bossing everyone around. I swear dealing with that man is a nightmare sometimes.”
Rebecca sighed, gratefully taking the mug of tea that Sarah brought over. “Patrick told you I’m pregnant, right?”
Sarah nearly dropped her own mug. “No he did not. Are you serious?” she asked, her face lighting up. “What am I saying—of course you’re serious. Holy crap. And congratulations!”
“It was a surprise,” Rebecca said. “A happy one, but absolutely a complete surprise.”
“That’s why you’re moving in together.”
“Among other reasons. So wait, he told you we’re moving in together but not that we’re having a baby?”
“Men,” Sarah said with a shrug. “Yes, he’s my brother, but sometimes he’s as clueless as the next guy. And God—he went through so much before he met you. You know you two are perfect for each other.”
Rebecca gave her a sad smile. “I never thought I’d find anyone again either. But, wow. If I have to deal with losing him? I don’t think I could bear it.”
“Don’t say that,” Sarah said. “He’s a fighter.
“Yeah, he is,” Rebecca agreed. “I just—I don’t even know what kind of injuries he’ll be dealing with. Gun shots? Explosions? A plane or car crash? Ryan was extremely vague when he called me, and since I have no clue what exactly the mission involved, I’m assuming the worst-case scenario.”
Her eyes darted to her cell phone as it buzzed on the kitchen table. “Lexi,” she said, blowing out a sigh of relief. Lexi used to work for the Pentagon and had reconnected with her old flame Christopher when she was sent down on an assignment to stop hackers infiltrating the systems at Little Creek. Now Lexi had moved here to Virginia Beach and worked on base with the SEAL team.
Rebecca was certain Lexi had clearances and knew things she’d never have the first clue about. But the fact that she was calling her this early in the morning?
She knew about the accident. Which meant the team might already be on their way home—everyone except for Patrick. She was half-tempted to turn on CNN and see what she could find out about the missing American woman.
To find out if the media was reporting an injury to a Navy SEAL.
She fumbled with her phone, finally answering.
“Christopher called and told me what happened,” Lexi said as soon as Rebecca answered. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Have you heard any updates?”
“None. I’m waiting for the CO to tell me what’s going on. It’s been hours since he told me about the accident, and I’m going crazy with worry.”
“Are you alone?”
“No, Sarah is with me. We’re at Patrick’s house with the kids.” She filled Lexi in on the rest of the night at the hospital with Alison.
“Holy crap. I hope she’s doing all right today. I’m heading into base soon,” Lexi said. “I’ll see what I can find out. The rest of the men are already on their way home.”
“That fast?” Rebecca asked.
“Yep. I guess they completed their op and are catching a flight. Christopher hadn’t heard anything about Patrick either after he was medevac’d out. They obviously knew he was injured, but that’s it.”
“Call me as soon as you find out anything,” Rebecca said.
“Will do. I’m so sorry, sweetie. Patrick is strong though—one of the strongest men on the team. He’ll do anything to get home to you and the kids.”
“I know,” Rebecca said. “I just hope it’s enough.”
***
PATRICK OPENED HIS eyes, blinking as they rushed him down another hallway. Where was he? How long had he been here?
Where was the rest of his team?
He remembered moving through the insurgents’ camp with his team and Delta. Had they even rescued the American woman?
There’d been an explosion, and then everything had gone black.
He groaned, trying to make sense of what was happening.
More blinding lights above. More white walls.
Announcements echoed through the stark hallway over the loudspeaker, but there was so much commotion around him, he was having trouble understanding the words. Briefly, he realized someone was pushing an IV alongside him, shouting about some type of medication they needed to administer.
His gaze fell on a set of double doors that said “Do Not Enter” in huge red letters. In an instant they were pushing the doors open, calling to the medical staff already inside.
His eyes landed on the “OR” sign on one wall.
“We’re taking you into emergency surgery,” a man’s voice said from above him. Eyes peered down at him, but that was all Patrick could see with the man’s glasses, surgical hat, and mask blocking all other features. Briefly, he noticed the people hustling around him all were wearing scrubs.
“We’ve got O+ standing by,” a woman’s voice said.
“I already scrubbed in!” a voice called out as he was pushed into the middle of the OR. “Let’s open the wound and stop the internal bleeding. Show me the chest x-ray.”
Someone came rushing over with the x-ray films.
“He’s awake. We need to sedate him immediately.”
Patrick opened his mouth, trying to talk, nearly gagging on all the tubes in his mouth. He wanted to rip the mask from his face and ask what was happening.
How badly he was injured.
How the rest of his men were.
Strangely, he couldn’t feel as much pain in his side anymore. Maybe they’d given him drugs.
He could hardly feel anything at all.
“We’ve administered anesthesia.,” the man who’d been speaking to him before said. “I know you can’t talk right now, but I’d like you to count to ten in your mind. You’ll awaken again after surgery.”
“His pulse is dropping!” a voice called out.
Patrick tried to count the numbers silently in his head, but he was too sleepy. Too exhausted. If he could just rest a moment he’d feel better.
“We’re losing him!”
Someone ripped open the rest of his fatigues, spreading cool gel over his chest.
“Clear!”
Slowly, his eyes slid shut again.
