Chapter 301 - 294

A little after the third hour, the operating-room doors opened.

Christian was on his feet before the doctor had fully stepped into the corridor.

Emilia rose beside him.

Selena stood from her chair near Adrian’s room.

The doctor removed his mask.

Christian stared at him. "How is she?"

The doctor looked at the three of them. "Which of you is Mr Sinclair?"

"Me."

"Come with me, please."

"No." Christian’s voice sharpened. "Tell me now."

The doctor paused. "Mr Sinclair, I understand you’re worried, but I need to explain—"

"Then explain."

The doctor glanced toward Emilia, who had gone completely still.

"Is Kylie alive?"

The question came from Emilia. It was so quiet that Christian almost didn’t hear it.

The doctor turned to her.

"Yes."

For one second, nobody moved.

Then Emilia made a sound that was half a sob and half a gasp. Her hand flew to her mouth.

Selena caught her around the shoulders.

Christian stood perfectly still.

The doctor had said alive. Kylie was alive. He repeated the word inside his head, waiting for it to become real.

"She’s alive?" he asked.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. The operation was successful."

Christian’s knees almost gave way.

He caught the back of the nearest chair.

Emilia was crying openly now, her face pressed against Selena’s shoulder.

"Oh, thank God."

Selena held her daughter tightly, whispering something Christian couldn’t hear.

He barely registered them.

The doctor was still speaking.

"The bullet caused significant bleeding. We were able to remove it and control the source of the bleeding. Fortunately, it did not cause the degree of organ damage we were concerned about when she arrived."

Christian gripped the chair.

"Then she’s fine?"

The doctor’s expression remained measured.

"She’s out of immediate surgical danger, but I wouldn’t describe her as completely fine yet. She lost a considerable amount of blood. We’re monitoring her closely, and she’ll need time to recover. The next several hours are important."

Christian nodded too quickly. "Of course."

"We’ll continue to watch for complications. At the moment, her vital signs are responding to treatment, and we’re cautiously optimistic."

Cautiously optimistic.

He could work with that. He could live with those words. He could live with almost anything now that he knew she was alive.

"Can I see her?"

The doctor glanced at his chart.

"Once she’s settled in recovery, we’ll allow a brief visit. She may still be unconscious when you see her."

The doctor gave a small nod.

"I’ll have someone bring you in when she’s ready."

Christian looked at him. "Thank you."

The words were rough.

The doctor inclined his head and moved away to speak with another member of staff.

Christian remained where he was.

He couldn’t seem to make his body understand that the worst possibility had not happened.

His hands were still gripping the chair.

His shoulders were rigid. His heart was beating so hard that he could feel it in his throat.

Emilia stepped in front of him. "Christian."

He looked at her.

She was crying, smiling, and shaking all at once. "She’s alive."

He stared at her.

Emilia laughed through her tears. "She’s alive, Christian."

He bent forward, pressing one hand over his mouth. A sob escaped him. He tried to stop it, but he couldn’t.

The sound seemed to surprise him more than anyone else.

Emilia wrapped her arms around him.

Christian held her tightly.

"She’s alive," she whispered against his shoulder.

He nodded, unable to speak.

"She’s alive."

He bowed his head.

For the first time since the boat, he allowed himself to believe that Kylie might actually come home.

.....

Christian had never understood the point of praying for something he could not control.

He had grown up around people who prayed before making decisions, after making decisions, and sometimes instead of making decisions. He had watched his grandfather use religion as a convenient decoration, invoking God when it suited him and ignoring every principle he claimed to believe when it didn’t.

Christian had never been particularly interested in the performance.

If he wanted something, he worked for it. If a problem appeared, he dealt with it. If a man threatened him, he made sure the man understood the consequences.

Prayer had always seemed like a conversation in which one person did all the talking and the other was expected to wait for an answer that might never come.

But now, standing outside the recovery room, Christian bowed his head.

He didn’t know what to say.

He wasn’t even sure who he was speaking to.

He only knew that Kylie was alive, and he had never wanted anything more desperately than he wanted her to stay that way.

"Please." The word formed in his mind. "Please let her wake up."

He swallowed. His chest tightened.

"Please give her the chance to do all the things she still wants to do."

....

A nurse finally came to collect him.

"Mr Sinclair?"

Christian looked up immediately. "Yes."

"You can see her now. Just for a few minutes, please. She’s still being monitored."

He nodded.

The nurse led him through the doors.

The room was quiet.

Machines hummed softly beside the bed. A monitor displayed Kylie’s heartbeat, and an intravenous line ran from her hand to a bag hanging beside her.

She lay beneath a white blanket.

Her hair had been brushed away from her face. Someone had cleaned the blood from her skin, and the cut on her forehead had been treated.

She looked peaceful.

Christian stopped at the foot of the bed.

He couldn’t move.

The nurse glanced at him. "You can sit beside her."

He nodded.

She left him alone.

For a long moment, Christian stood where he was, looking at Kylie.

She was alive.

The doctor had said so.

The monitor confirmed it with every steady beat. And still, the sight of her lying there made his chest ache.

He walked to the chair beside the bed and sat down. His hand hovered over hers.

He was afraid to touch her.

He stared at her fingers. Then he reached for her hand. It was warmer than it had been on the boat.

He closed his fingers around hers and bowed his head.

"Hi, Blue."

His voice sounded strange in the quiet room.

He cleared his throat.

A faint, unsteady smile crossed his face. He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. His smile faded. He looked at her face.

"You scared me."

The words came out so quietly that he almost didn’t recognise them.

He had intended to say something else.

Something light.

Something that would sound like the man Kylie knew, the man who teased her and smiled at her and never let her see how deeply she had affected him until he could no longer hide it.

But he couldn’t pretend.

"You scared me so badly, Kylie." His throat tightened. "I thought I was going to lose you."

He looked away, blinking hard. "I’ve never been that afraid before."

He laughed once, without humour.

"I didn’t even know what to do with myself. I kept trying to think of something I could fix. Something I could pay for. Someone I could threaten into giving me answers."

He looked back at her. "And there was nothing."

His fingers tightened around hers.

"I couldn’t make you open your eyes. I couldn’t make you stop bleeding. I couldn’t make the doctors come out of that room any faster."

He took a shaky breath. "I hated it."bHe looked down at their joined hands. "I hated every second of it."

For a while, he said nothing.

Then he leaned closer.

"But I need you to understand something." His voice softened. "You don’t have to be brave for me."

He lifted her hand and pressed it gently against his cheek.

"You don’t have to smile when you’re frightened. You don’t have to make a joke when you’re hurting. You don’t have to convince me you’re fine just because you think I’ll worry if you aren’t."

His eyes burned.

"I will worry. I’m going to worry about you for the rest of my life, apparently. There’s nothing you can do about that."

He gave a faint smile. "But you don’t have to make it easier for me."

He lowered her hand to the blanket.

"You can be angry with me. You can tell me when I’m being an insufferable bastard. You can tell me when you need space, when you need me to shut up, when you need me to hold you, or when you need me to leave you alone for five minutes."

He swallowed.

"You can be scared." His voice broke. "You can be scared, Blue."

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"And I’ll still be here."

He looked at her for a long time.

He bent his head.

"I’ll be here when you go back to school. I’ll be there when you become the lawyer you keep telling me you’re going to be. I’ll sit in the back of the courtroom and pretend I don’t want to intimidate every person who looks at you the wrong way."

A shaky breath escaped him.

"You’ll probably tell me I’m embarrassing you." He pressed his lips to her fingers. "And I’ll probably deserve it."

He stayed there, holding her hand against his cheek.

Then he whispered, "I love you."

The words were not new.

He had said them before. He said the words again.

"I love you, Baby." His voice trembled. "Please wake up."

He bowed his head over their joined hands.

And for the first time in a very long time, Christian Sinclair had nothing left to do but wait