Chapter 26

This is death, huh? There's lots of beeping here, like some kind of heart monitor. Bright lights blind me, even through my eyelids. Are my eyes closed? Do we even have eyes when we're dead?

Someone strokes my cheek, and I recognize the hand. The owner of that hand used to do the same thing when I had a fever or threw up as a child. The one time I got pneumonia, that hand stroked my cheek the whole time.

Is Mom here? She didn't die of a heart attack when she found out I was dead, right?

Sudden horror fills me. I can't be dead if I feel emotion like this. I've never been one to believe that anyone really knows what happens when we die, but I've only heard it was good things if you lived a good life. I think I lived a good life. Sure, I loved a woman and wasn't the nicest to her when we met…or yesterday, but that doesn't count, right?

Was it yesterday I fought with Lorelei? Is there some kind of weird time continuum after death? Did I fight Lambert eight years ago?

I hear voices, but they sound like someone put a paper towel tube up to their mouth. Part of the words come from a masculine voice.

Forcing my eyes open, I instantly squint again. "Lights," I try to say, but nothing recognizable comes out. It's a squeak. A gasping sound.

"Liam, are you awake, buddy?" Chase asks.

My heart jumps into my throat. When my eyes adjust to the bright light, he stands over me with tears of relief in his eyes. Did Jacob shoot or strangle him? Are we both stuck in this blinding light parallel universe?

The lights dim, and I realize someone has turned them off from a regular light switch in a room with a regular ceiling. I turn my head to see around Chase's body and find Mom shuffling toward me, bags under her eyes.

"Where?" I mouth.

The pain in my throat is better, but so is all the pain. There's a dull throb at my throat and in my side. But nothing hurts like it did when I blacked out.

"Don't try to talk," Chase says, sitting next to me on the bed. After he's not blocking the rest of the room, I take in the hospital room surroundings. My sense of time must be off because it's daytime now, evidenced by the sunlight coming through the windows. Midday?

I have no idea what day it is or if I've been in a coma for years. Fuck, please don't let Lorelei have married someone and had children while I was out. I search Chase's face for signs of wrinkles or gray hair and find nothing.

Looking down, I'm in a hospital gown and have no memory of someone changing my clothes. My arm is in a large bandage, and I can't see my side. Tubes connect me to something, and I have a feeling it's what's making me not feel any pain. Either that, or it's hydrating me. Maybe both.

I shake my head in frustration. "What?" I try to say in my strongest, most authoritative police officer voice. It comes out as air.

"You're in the hospital. You've been out for about thirteen hours. Four of those were surgery. You were hurt pretty bad, and I'm going to give it to you straight," Chase says.

Mom sits in the guest chair by the window, pulling a hospital blanket around her. She must have been here all night.

"You were shot twice. Flesh wounds," Chase continues, ticking off items on his fingers. "You were strangled within a second of death, and your throat is going to hurt like a bitch for a few days. Thankfully, it's not permanent. The blood vessels in your eyes popped, so you look like a fucked-up horror movie villain, and you had a piece of wood a quarter of a centimeter away from your intestine removed. You lost a lot of blood and had transfusions. It sounds bad, but you're a lucky bastard."

I look at Mom. "Why?" I mouth and instantly clutch my throat. Fine, no talking. That hurt.

I make a motion like I want to write something, and Chase understands, pulling out his phone and handing it to me. I open Google Docs and start typing. At least my fingers work enough to type a few words at a time, even if they don't work perfectly. It must be the meds.

Text: "Mom, why here? You'll get sick around others."

Chase shows Mom his phone, and she chuckles. "If you think my baby boy is going to be shot and nearly killed and I'm not going to show up at the hospital, you're dumber than I thought."

I take Chase's phone back.

Text: "You OK?" I point to Chase.

Chase looks at Mom, and Mom gets up from the chair she just got comfortable in. "I'll go get some pie from the cafeteria. I haven't had a good pie in what feels like months."

She walks to the door, and I smile as much as I can at her walking unassisted. She has more energy than she's had since chemo started. Seeing her up and around, even if she's surrounded by people and germs in the hospital setting, lifts my spirit a bit.

Only to be crushed.

As soon as the door shuts, Chase's smile falters. "You almost died, man. I was so scared when I got through that door and you weren't moving."

Text: "Lambert?" I type on Chase's phone.

"He was busy strangling you and didn't hear me get through. Didn't even pay attention. I had no choice."

I shake my head. "Dead?" I mouth.

"I used my weapon. Yeah. I had to. It was you or him." A tear slides down his cheek, and he wipes his nose. "I shot him, and he fell on you. I had to pull him off you. I was so scared, Liam. I thought I lost you, you mother fucker. You weren't moving under him. I'm thankful the ambulance was already on site. I don't know if you would have made it if they weren't."

I motion for his phone again, remembering the scuffle in the basement and the gunshot.

Text: "Res and Coop?"

"They're fine. Carlton was armed with a handgun under his pillow. What teen sleeps with a gun under his pillow? Res took a bullet to the foot, but shooting someone must have scared him. We're all lucky bastards that the Lamberts never practiced actually using their guns."

I nod and blow out a breath. The heavy breathing stings as it passes through my throat, and I wince.

"He shot at Res and then ran. Cooper made sure his partner was OK and then went after him. Carlton ran out of the house and right into about eight uniforms out front. That was the scuffle on the lawn – them arresting Carlton. He's at a juvenile facility right now and crying like a baby."

"His brother?" I mouth.

"He doesn't know his brother's dead yet. He's crying because he's a teenager in a juvenile facility with no parents to come get him."

My mind spins. There will be investigations, paperwork, psychological evaluations, and required counseling for all four of us since weapons were involved and a suspect is dead. We'll get through it, but I want Lorelei at my side. My hands itch for her. I want to see her. Hold her. I want her to climb on the hospital bed and wrap her arms around me, never letting me go.

I take Chase's phone again and punch in the only words I have the energy for since my fingers are starting to go numb: "Lorelei know?"

Chase shrugs. "The hospital took your phone and put it in the possession bag. I can get it if you want me to call her. Chief called your mom since she's your emergency contact, and I was already here. I don't know if Lorelei knows, but it's been all over the news. Does she watch the news?"

I don't know if she watches local news, and something tells me Kailee isn't a news watcher. She either doesn't know I'm here, or she doesn't care.

The latter thought wrecks me, and I double over in pain. It's not even physical pain. It's the pain of a man that almost died and the woman he loves isn't at his side when he wakes up. She's angry with me, but I wouldn't stay away from her if she was hurt no matter how mad I was. Lorelei could bake my mom a billion pot brownies, and I'd still hold her hand if she got a scrape from falling off her bike. I'd pick her up, throw the bike in the back of my trunk, and bandage her wound myself.

So, where is she now that I'm hurt?

I should have told her I love her. I should have sacked up and apologized before I went into Lambert's house. If Chase hadn't been able to get through the door, I'd be dead and would never have a chance to talk to her again. That thought, or the medicine I'm pumped full of, turns my stomach.

As soon as I can talk again and my eyes don't look like they're filled with blood, I'm going straight over there and making it up to her.

But how?

Chase pats me on my good shoulder and nods. "We'll get through this, man. You'll get her back."

I look up at him, startled. Is it that obvious that my mind is only on her? I shake my head. "Hates me," I mouth, and even my lips hurt now. I need to stop moving my mouth or any part of my body involved in talking.

"She doesn't hate you. She'll come if she knows. If there's one thing I know, it's that you two idiots have something special. You've both fought it and tried to hide that you're crazy about each other. I don't know what happened the other night, but I know that your feelings for each other outweigh any words that were said. It'll take more than a bad night to get you out of her system." He frowns. "Unfortunately, you have to stay here a week to heal. It's not even your torso. They say there's a risk of dying days after being choked as hard as you were. They want to monitor you. I'll get you anything you need from your house."

I suck in another breath. How is my throat feeling worse? My lips and upper palate hurt. I also took some hard punches to the face in addition to the damage to my neck, and my medicine must be wearing off. I pick up the tube of whatever medicine they're giving me and thump it with my finger. "Hurt," I try to mouth, but my lips are tired. I'm not sure if Chase can even understand what I'm mouthing.

He looks at the tube and back at me. "I'll go find someone to give you meds and find your possessions so you can get your phone." He takes his phone off the table and puts it in his pocket. "You going to be OK here if I'm gone for a few? I may get some coffee. I've been up all night."

I nod. I'll be fine.

I'll just stay in this lonely hospital bed, wishing she was here to hold my hand.