Chapter 20: Ruby - Keeping Knight

There was so much blood.

Every time I close my eyes, I can see it.

Micah, lying gray-faced and motionless while Cole worked to stop the blood pumping out of him.

The red soaking his shirt.

The blood smeared all over the floor.

The hole in his chest.

A small moan escapes at the memory.

There was a hole in Micah’s chest. Where Henry shot him. Where Micah took a bullet that was meant for me.

Because it’s my fault. All of it. Because of Henry’s crazed obsession with me, Micah and Houdini were almost blown up. Micah was shot.

I clap my hand over my mouth to keep another moan from sneaking out.

The man I love—no, not falling, I’m already there—was shot because of me.

“He’ll be okay,” Rogue assured me as the paramedics loaded Micah onto the stretcher. “I’ve seen a lot of bullet wounds. This one isn’t too bad.”

But how can a bullet wound be not too bad? It wasn’t some little graze on his arm. It was a hole. In his chest.

There’s a lot of important stuff in there. The heart. Lungs. Arteries. What if the bullet hit one of them?

Tears turn the falsely cheerful wallpaper into a wash of blues and yellows. It’s hard to swallow past the giant lump in my throat. My fingers pick at the torn vinyl covering the cushion of my chair. I know I shouldn’t make the tear even worse, but I can’t make myself stop.

The hospital waiting room is packed full of Micah’s friends and coworkers; some of them silently waiting for news, others quietly talking. Jester and Wraith are sitting across the room from me, their heads bent close together ‌while they look at something on Wraith’s phone. Houdini is standing by the water cooler, drumming his fingers on the water tank while he scowls at nothing. Cole—who turned out to be a pretty competent medic—is talking with another Fox & Falcon employee, Thiago. Sofia is here, too, but she just left to grab coffee from the cafe downstairs.

Then there’s me. The guilty one. The one who caused all this trouble to begin with.

What if I hadn’t taken that cooking class? I ask myself. I wouldn’t have met Micah. Henry wouldn’t have noticed Micah walking me home every week, and he wouldn’t have gotten jealous. Henry wouldn’t have tried to kill me in a jealous fit of rage. There wouldn’t have been a bomb at my apartment. Micah wouldn’t be in the emergency room after being shot in the freaking chest.

My heart aches at the thought of never meeting Micah. But it hurts even more at the thought of losing him.

My gaze moves to the clock on the wall, and I do a quick mental calculation. It’s three-twelve, which means we’ve been waiting for news on Micah for over two hours now.

Fear clutches at me. Two hours is so long. If the injury was minor, like Rogue insisted, we would have heard something by now.

Is Micah in surgery? Is there a team of doctors frantically working over him, trying to keep him alive? Or did the worst happen, and⁠—

“No,” I whisper to myself. I bite my lip hard to keep from bursting into tears. “He’s okay. He has to be.”

As I’m staring at my feet, hiding my face while I work to control my emotions, there’s a slight stirring in the room. There’s an energy that wasn’t there before. A tension that makes my breath catch.

“Beau’s going to be fine,” Rogue announces from the doorway. “I just talked to him. He’s got a mild concussion and some minor burns from the taser. He should be released in another hour or two.”

“Figures,” Jester says. “I’ve always said Beau has a hard head.”

I release a shaky breath. I’m glad Beau’s okay. Or at least, as okay as someone who has a concussion could be. Once Micah’s friends arrived at the condo, a couple of them went searching for Beau and found him unconscious and tied up in the storage closet. According to Beau, Henry had approached him shortly after the fire alarm went off, tased him, hit him with the butt of a fire axe, and the next thing Beau knew, he woke up in the closet.

I can’t blame Beau for believing Henry was a real firefighter. I did. Especially given the situation, with the alarms going off, and all the smoke…

“He feels terrible,” Rogue told me when we first arrived at the hospital. “Beau. He wanted me to tell you how sorry he is.” Pausing, Rogue added somberly, “It was an understandable mistake. And he’s not the only one Henry tricked.”

“What about Knight?” Thiago asks. “Any news yet?”

Rogue shakes his head. “Not that I’ve heard. But I’m sure the doctor will come here as soon as there’s anything to report.” He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “You know Knight. He’ll be fine.”

But he doesn’t seem sure of it. He seems worried. Which makes me feel even worse.

Too antsy to sit still, I get out of my chair and walk over to the window. The sun has disappeared behind the clouds while we’ve been here, and tiny droplets of rain splatter the glass. Everything is gray outside. Four floors down, people scurry across the yellow grass with their heads ducked down.

It all looks so bleak; I come close to crying again.

I want Micah. I want to bring him home and take care of him and promise I’ll never let him get hurt again.

I press my hand to my aching chest. I bite my lip until I taste coppery blood.

Please be okay, I plead silently. Please.

Dad, I add, if you’re listening, can you please help Micah? I love him. You would love him too, if you met him. If there’s anything you can do, can you please bring him back to me? I love him too much to lose him.

For all my efforts, tears sting my eyes. A sob swells large in my chest.

“Hey.” A hand lands on my shoulder, heavy but gentle. When I turn, I find Wraith looking down at me with concern. “How are you holding up?”

Swallowing hard, I reply, “I’m okay.”

He studies me. “You don’t seem okay.”

I grip the windowsill hard. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. All that matters is Micah.”

His mouth compresses into a frown. “How you feel matters.”

“Not right now, it doesn’t.”

Wraith’s dark gaze sweeps over my face. Then he says, “Let’s go out in the hallway for a minute.”

There seems no good reason to argue—I’ll see the doctor either way—so I let Wraith maneuver me through the waiting room and into the hallway. Once we get out there, he puts both hands on my shoulders and turns me to face him.

“He’s going to be alright,” he says. “Where he got shot, it’s a good spot. Comparatively.”

“You don’t know that,” I retort. “You didn’t see the—” My voice breaks. “You can’t say he’s going to be alright. You don’t know.”

Wraith gives me a long look. Then he nods. “No, I don’t know for sure. Not a hundred percent. But I’ve seen a lot of injuries. I know which ones are really bad.”

“What if there’s a complication?” I ask. “What if… I don’t know. But things happen. I thought my dad was fine. Healthy. And then he just died. Right in front of me.”

“Ruby.”

“I know it’s my fault,” I sob. “But Micah shouldn’t have to suffer because of me. Micah is brave and kind and amazing and he deserves a long, healthy life. And now⁠—”

“He will.” Wraith holds up his hand when I start to respond. “This isn’t your fault, Ruby. None of it is.”

“But—”

“But nothing. It’s that sick fuck’s fault. He did it. He’s responsible. Not you.”

“If I’d noticed…”

“No.” His voice is firm. “Guys like that, they’re a ticking time bomb. If it wasn’t seeing you with Knight, it would have been something else. At least the way it happened, Knight was there to stop it.”

“And get shot because of it.” Blinking away tears, I hold Wraith’s gaze. “Henry was going to kill Micah because of me. Sampson, too. How is it not my fault?”

“It’s not. Trust me.” His expression turns even more solemn. “I’ve seen some awful shit, Ruby. Shit I wish I could erase from my memory. Shit I feel guilty about every single day. I’m an expert in it. So I can tell you, with absolute certainty, that this is not your fault.”

My gaze dips to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“I do. And another thing. Knight’s going to be feeling guilty, too. He shouldn’t. But he will, because that’s the man he is.” When I look up at him in surprise, he adds, “It’s not your fault, or Knight’s. Don’t let the guilt come between you. Talk to him about it. And make him talk to you.”

My throat goes tight. “I just want to see him.”

Wraith pats my arm. “I know. And you will.” The faintest hint of a smile touches his lips. Then he turns me around so I see the doctor striding down the hallway towards us.

My heart skips. It could be nothing. He could be on his way somewhere else.

But as soon as he spots me, he makes a beeline in my direction. “Miss Ashe?”

His somber expression makes my legs go weak. If not for Wraith’s solid grip on my arm, they might collapse under me. “Yes?” I whisper.

“I figured it was you,” the doctor says. “Your fiancé said to look for the woman with curly red hair.”

At Rogue’s urging, I told the hospital staff that Micah was my fiancé. I wasn’t sure about lying, but Rogue insisted it would be okay. “Micah would do the same thing,” he explained. “This way, you can see him first. And trust me, you’re the first person he’ll want to see.”

It takes a second for what the doctor said to register. “He told you I have red hair?”

The doctor—Doctor Garrison, according to his nametag—nods. Then he smiles. “He did. He was very insistent that I find you first. She’s going to be so worried, he kept saying. Make sure you talk to Ruby first.”

“I’m Ruby,” I whisper. “Is he okay?”

I’m vaguely aware of Micah’s friends closing in around us, listening. But I can’t concentrate on anything besides finding out about Micah.

“He’s doing well,” Doctor Garrison replies. “There was some muscle damage, and his collarbone was nicked by the bullet. But the damage shouldn’t be permanent.”

“How is he?” I ask.

“Aside from badgering us to finish?” Doctor Garrison chuckles. “He’s doing well. We gave your fiancé a transfusion to replace the blood he lost. He’s got some stitches which should leave minimal scarring. We’re giving him some IV antibiotics and painkillers, as well. He’ll have to stay overnight for observation, but barring any complications, he should be released tomorrow.”

I stare at the doctor, wanting to believe but not quite accepting it. “He’s really okay?”

“He’s really okay,” he replies. “We’re moving Mr. Sutton into a room right now, but you should be able to see him in a half hour or so.”

From around us, a happy buzz of voices erupts. Through the chatter, Jester can be heard saying, “We’ll have to record him saying some stupid shit while he’s all doped up. That’ll give us blackmail material for years.”

“I can see him soon?” I ask. “He’s asking for me?”

Doctor Garrison nods. “He is.” Glancing at his watch, he adds, “I have to run. Check with one of the ladies at the reception desk and they’ll get you in to see your fiancé.” Then he smiles. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

As he walks away, I turn to Wraith. “He’s really okay. Right?”

Wraith smiles at me. “He really is.”

* * *

A little romance for your reading break.

Browse romance novels on Lokepub.

I’m not going to cry.

I’m not.

If I start crying, Micah will worry. He’ll think something’s wrong. He’ll try to comfort me instead of taking care of himself.

While I was waiting for the okay to see him, I tried to freshen up in the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face to calm down the redness. I put damp paper towels over my eyes to reduce the swelling. After accepting that my hair was a lost cause, I pulled it back into a ponytail in an effort to tame it.

I still look awful. My eyes are still bloodshot and I have little red speckles around them from crying. There’s a cut on my lip from where I kept biting it. And despite the makeup I borrowed from Sofia, the bruise on my cheek is impossible to ignore.

Tugging nervously at my ponytail, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, counting it out like my counselor showed me. It’s fine, I tell myself. The doctor said so. That, barring any complications, Micah should be released tomorrow.

The news should be reassuring. But my brain keeps sticking on the complication part.

What if the doctor missed something? What if the injury caused a deadly blood clot that won’t be discovered until it’s too late? What if Micah gets blood poisoning? What if the bullet itself was poisoned?

Logically, I know none of those things are likely. But panic seems to be winning over logic right now.

“Do people poison bullets?” I blurt. As soon as the question comes out, I clamp my mouth shut, feeling stupid for asking.

Wraith glances at me with a thoughtful expression. “Poisoned bullets were used during World War II,” he replies. “And I’ve heard of a few instances involving covert operations overseas. But the chance of a regular bullet being poisoned is very slim.”

“Not impossible, though.” I tug on my ponytail again. “Did anyone test the bullet? The one that hit Micah?”

“We’ll make sure it’s tested,” he says. “I’ll get Lawson on it. He’s one of our forensics experts, and he has a lot of connections with the local and state police.” Then he pats my shoulder. “The bullet that hit Knight wasn’t poisoned. There’d be no reason for it.”

“Why not?”

Wraith hesitates. Frowns. “There just wouldn’t be, Ruby. I don’t think it’s helpful to get into the reasons right now.”

He turns away from me to glance at the number of the room we’re passing. “Five-eighteen. Knight’s room should be just up ahead.”

My stomach lurches. My heart leaps to my throat.

I want to see Micah, of course. But I’m scared to see him, too. What if he looks even worse than I’m expecting? What if he’s hooked up to all these machines, maybe he’s on oxygen, or⁠—

“Stop it,” I mutter. “This isn’t helping.”

“Hmm?” Wraith asks as he looks over at me again. His eyebrows arch up in question.

“Nothing,” I reply quickly. “I was just talking to myself.”

Wraith stares at me, his gaze dark and assessing. “He’s fine, Ruby.” Then he jerks his chin at the doorway just ahead of us. “Here we are.” His mouth quirks slightly. “Why don’t you go see for yourself?”

His hand still on my shoulder, he guides me the last few feet to Micah’s room. My pulse races so quickly I’m lightheaded from it. My hands shake. Cold sweat prickles at the back of my neck.

“He’s fine,” Wraith says gently. “Look.”

So I do. And the instant I see Micah, all my plans for keeping calm fly right out the window.

“Micah!” I race across the room and over to the bed. I’m already crying. “Oh, Micah.”

“Ruby.” He pushes himself up into a seated position. A flicker of pain crosses his face. “Ah, Rue.”

My gaze sweeps over him, cataloging everything. A bandage peeks out from beneath his hospital gown. His left arm is in a sling. There’s a pulse oximeter on his finger, and an IV is attached to his hand. He looks tired. Tiny lines crease his brow.

I freeze beside his bed, unsure of where to touch him. A sob bubbles up. “I’m so sorry.”

Micah frowns. “Sorry? You have nothing—” His gaze moves past me to Wraith, still standing in the doorway. Then he lifts his chin. “Thanks, man.”

Wraith gives a quick nod in response. “Of course. We’ve all been watching out for her.” Then he smiles. “I’ll give you guys some time alone. But I’ll warn you, Jester’s been going on about trying to record you saying some stupid shit. With the pain medication and all.”

Micah chuckles. He winces slightly but hides it with a smile. “Of course he would. You can tell him I’m not on any of the good stuff. So he’s going to be disappointed.”

“I’ll tell him,” Wraith replies. Then he nods again. “Glad you’re okay, Micah. Don’t go getting shot again, alright?”

“I’ll try not to.” Micah watches as Wraith leaves the room, then looks back at me. He pats the side of his bed. “Sit.” A beat later, he makes a sheepish face. “Shit, sorry. That sounded like I was talking to Sampson.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I reply. “I can stand.”

“You won’t hurt me. I need you closer.” His gaze softens as it meets mine. “Please, Rue. I need to touch you.”

His gentle tone is enough to start me crying again. “I’m so sorry, Micah. This is all my fault.”

“Rue.” Micah takes my hand and tugs me onto the bed. “Stop apologizing.”

Right. This isn’t about me right now. It’s about Micah. Who was shot. I should be asking how he’s feeling instead of crying and going on about how sorry I am. “Sorry. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need more medicine?” I glance around the room, taking in the bare windowsill and dresser. “What do you need? Food? Books? Flowers? No, you probably don’t want flowers. What about balloons? Or one of those fruit bouquets. Something to make it more cheerful in here.”

His fingers lace between mine. “I don’t need anything. Other than you.”

“How is your pain?” I press. “I can find a nurse. Or a doctor.”

“Ruby.” His tone firms. “Calm down. I’m fine. It’s just a graze.”

“A graze?” My voice rises. “That”—I shoot a pointed look at the bandage on his chest—“is not a graze. You were shot.” As it all hits me again, my face crumbles. “It’s all my fault. If I’d known…”

Micah sits up higher and carefully wraps his arm around me. Then he leans over to kiss me. “What would you have done differently?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I sob. “If I hadn’t taken the cooking class, then Henry wouldn’t have targeted you. He wouldn’t have tried to kill you and Sampson. You wouldn’t be sitting in a hospital bed with a bullet hole in your chest.”

Pain twists his features. “Do you really wish you hadn’t taken the class?” he asks. “Do you wish we’d never met?”

“No. Of course not. But I just feel so guilty.”

Micah looks down at his lap. After a few seconds of silence, he releases a heavy sigh. When his gaze lifts again to meet mine, his expression is tortured. “It was my fault, Ruby. Not yours. I should have anticipated something like this. Done more research. I should have protected you better. ”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I insist. “You did everything to protect me. You left me Sampson, and Beau was right outside, and the condo was safe… I’m the one who opened the door. I should have… I don’t know. Done something different.”

“When the floor was being evacuated and there was smoke everywhere?” he points out. “What were you supposed to do?”

“Henry was there for me. Because he had some crazy obsession with me. And I had no idea. I should have noticed⁠—”

“Ruby. It wasn’t your fault.”

But I’m spiraling into a black hole of guilt. “I forgot to put on the necklace after my shower,” I say. “That was so stupid. If I’d been wearing it, I could have warned you sooner.”

“I knew something was wrong,” Micah replies. “Even before you texted about the fire alarm. Something about Greg didn’t ring true. So, really, I should have come home sooner. Maybe I would have gotten back in time to stop Henry from hurting you.”

“But—” I stop as Wraith’s advice comes back to me. I close my eyes and let my breath out slowly. When I open my eyes again, Micah is watching me with deep concern.

“Are you in pain, Ruby?” he asks. “Did you get checked out in the ER? Was there something Henry did to you—” His jaw clenches. “Did he do something, and you didn’t want to tell me before?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No. It’s not that. I’m okay. It’s just…”

Micah squeezes my hand. “What?”

“We can both blame ourselves for what happened. We can spend all this time thinking about what-ifs and torturing ourselves over what we could have done differently. But it’s not going to help either of us. It won’t fix things.”

He sucks in a breath. “What are you saying? That we’re broken?”

“No. God, no. That’s not it at all.” Taking a moment to compose my thoughts, I add, “You think it’s your fault. But I don’t agree. And I bet you don’t blame me, either.”

“Of course not, Ruby.” It’s quick. Adamant. “Shit. Of course, I don’t blame you. Not for one single thing.”

“And I don’t blame you. Not for anything. So… if you don’t blame me, and I don’t blame you…”

The worry in Micah’s eyes fades. “Then we have to let it go.”

I nod. “I think we do. Because it’ll hurt both of us if we hang onto it. It was Henry’s fault. Not mine. Not yours.”

“Rue.” Emotion darkens his gaze. “You are just… incredible. How brave you are…” He shakes his head. “The way you stood up to him, and you protected Sampson…”

“He’s okay,” I say quickly. “I know you saw him before we left the condo. But Evie and Dan went over to keep Sampson company. So he wouldn’t be anxious without you there.”

Micah stares at me. Then he swallows hard. “Ruby.”

I push a lock of hair back from his forehead. “Micah.”

“I love you.” His fingers tighten around mine. “None of this falling in love business. I love you. I’ve known it for a while, but I didn’t say it because… I told myself it was too soon. That I should wait until everything settled down before telling you. But really, I think I was scared.”

Tears fill my eyes. “You were scared?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s kind of crazy. All the shit I faced in the Army, and I was scared to tell you I love you.” Pausing, his gaze searches mine. “But saying it feels right. Because I do love you. So much.”

“Micah.” I squeeze closer to his side. “I love you, too.”

“You do? You’re not just saying that because you feel like you need to? Because it’s okay if you don’t feel that way yet. And I know this is probably the worst time⁠—”

I press my lips to his, cutting him off. “It’s not. Hearing you say that you love me? It’s the perfect time.” I kiss him again. “I love you. And I’m so, so glad you’re okay.”

Assuming Wraith was right about the whole poisoned bullet thing. But I’m going to take him at his word.

“Rue.” Micah puts his free arm around me and hugs me to his side. Then he kisses the top of my head. “I love you, Ruby. And I’m so, so glad you’re okay, too.”