32. Chapter Thirty-Two

Pacing the living room, I couldn’t concentrate on the television. Something was wrong, I felt it. I hated that Grayson had to work tonight. People drank too much on New Year’s Eve, they drove and made bad decisions. I wanted him home, safe, with me and Julianna, watching the ball drop at midnight.

Grabbing the remote, I idly flipped through the channels. Where were Andy Cohen and Anderson Cooper when I needed a distraction? A good dose of Anderson Cooper’s giggles would make me feel better, and possibly make this uneasy feeling go away.

Rubbing my arms, I shivered, glancing at the clock. It was only ten thirty. Grayson’s shift didn’t end for another two hours, but I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep until he was home. Warm in bed where he belonged, his arms wrapped around me.

He’d worked plenty of late shifts before, and none of them had ever bothered me like this one did. It was like I knew something bad was going to happen.

The ringing of my cell phone made me jump. Grabbing for it, I knocked over my water glass.

“Fuck!” Juggling the glass before it could hit the floor, I didn’t check the caller I.D. before I answered.

“Wyatt? Everything okay?”

Expecting it to be Grayson, the deep baritone startled me and I pulled the phone away from my ear to check who was calling.

“Jamie, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“Okay, wow. That’s a little creepy. First, he’s fine. He wants me to make sure you know that. He is okay.” Jamie was speaking slowly and calmly, but my ears were buzzing.

“What’s happened?” My knees gave out and I sank down to the sofa.

“He’s at the hospital.” At my swift inhalation of air, Jamie rushed to get out, “They only called me because the dumbass forgot to update his medical emergency contact.”

Hospital. I had known something was wrong. Could feel it like a low buzzing noise across my skin the last two hours.

“What?” It was the only word I could manage, then finally I gasped, “What happened?”

“Wyatt, did you hear me say he is fine?” Jamie questioned. I could hear people talking in the background, a woman’s voice, and a rumble that sounded like Grayson. No, I knew it was Grayson. He sounded like he was in pain. Jumping to my feet, I spun in a circle, looking frantically for my shoes.

“Jamie, tell me what’s happened!” I was shouting. I couldn’t help it. My mind was spinning. My heart was pounding, and I felt like I might throw up. Fear crawled up my throat like a live thing, and the walls undulated around me.

Visions of our life–mine and Julianna’s–without Grayson in it flashed rapidly through my brain, and dizziness overwhelmed me. Putting a hand on the wall to steady myself, I tried to breathe normally.

“He got a tiny bit shot, but it’s just a scratch, I swear it is. He is fine. Awake and snarling and threatening me with all kinds of bodily harm for calling and worrying you.”

Shot.

Grayson had been shot.

Of course, I knew it was a possibility with his job, but I tried not to let the fear of it rule our lives. I couldn’t. Or I’d never be able to let him walk out the door.

But it had happened.

“He says to make sure you know it’s barely a graze, it’s nothing. He’ll be home in a couple of hours–”

I hung up the phone. Because if Grayson Beckett thought I was going to sit in this house, when he had been shot, and wait for him to come waltzing in the door like nothing had happened, he was an idiot.

Soft fingers caressed my jaw, catching on the stubble of my beard. Turning my face into the palm of the warm hand, basking in his gentle touch, the warm smell of blackberries washed over me, soothing me. I’d been pissed Jamie had called Wyatt because I didn’t want him to worry, but I was beyond glad he was here.

“Grayson,” he whispered, his voice ragged with raw emotion, “I was so scared we had lost you.”

Blinking my eyes open, I stared into his hazel orbs, tinged with so many things. The glassiness of unshed tears, fear, relief, but most of all love. He’d never said the words out loud, my innocent, stubborn, perfect omega, but I knew he did. Had felt the waves of his love over our bond, time and again, at the oddest moments.

Julianna was in his arms, head resting on his shoulder, bundled up against the cold. Looking sleepy and sucking on her paci. She smiled around it when she saw me and my heart swelled with so much love for my baby girl. For the both of them.

Less than a year ago, I couldn’t have imagined wanting this, a mate and a pup, and now I couldn’t imagine how I would ever live without them.

I hated domestic calls and this was why. People did stupid shit when they were emotional. They had too much to drink, and started waving around weapons they had no business owning and acting like fools on their ex’s front lawns. They tripped in their drunkenness when the police showed up, and they accidentally fired guns they shouldn’t be operating in the first place.

I’d been very lucky. The bullet had barely grazed me. But it had taken a chunk of skin off my bicep, and it had bled and hurt like a bitch. The wound needed to be cleaned and treated, so I’d been carted off to the hospital. But it could have been so much worse.

“Why do you never call me ‘Becks’?” I wondered aloud, not for the first time. Not one time had Wyatt ever called me by the nickname I’d had for most of my life. “Everyone else does.”

His lips curled up into a small, wistful smile, his eyes going soft. “Because I’m not everyone. You said so yourself. I’m your fated. And you’re my Grayson.”

Feelings clogged my throat, nearly choking me. Words wouldn’t move past my lips. Turning my head into the hand that was still softly caressing my jaw, I kissed his palm.

His hand carded through the hair at my nape, his strong fingers kneading the tight muscles there. “I’m sorry Jamie scared you. It’s really nothing.”

“You were shot!” he cried quietly, keeping his voice down, probably more for Jules’ sake than anything.

Pulling the arm of the scrub top up they had given me to replace my ruined shirt, I showed him the bandage that didn’t even go all the way around my bicep. “It really is barely a scratch. I’m fine, Wyatt, I promise.”

He sagged against me in relief, and I awkwardly caught him one handedly. It might be a scratch, and I might not want to worry him, but it was throbbing in time with my heartbeat and I’d be happy when they got back with my release papers and some pain killers. Stroking his back, I shifted him and Jules both up a little on the bed.

His hot tears soaked the material of the shirt, and I whispered soothing random words that made little sense. Finally, Wyatt sat up, snuffling his nose, his eyes red rimmed. “I was so scared. I love you and I was so scared. Scared we were going to lose you.”

“I know,” I thumbed at his tears, wiping them away. Leaning forward, I kissed his lips, salty from the tears he had shed. “I love you too, Wyatt. This wasn’t how I planned to tell you, but it will do. You’re mine.” Kissing Jules’ cheek, I told him, “And she’s mine. I love you both, more than I ever thought possible.”

He sighed softly against me, agreeing. “Yours.”

“Let’s go home, please. I want to start the new year at home, in our bed.”

“Yes, please.”