Unbroken (The Disclosure Series Book 2) (41 page)

“We transfused her and were able to remove the spleen laparoscopically. We’re wheeling her into recovery now, and we’ll monitor her post-op while she comes out of anesthesia. So far it doesn’t look as if there’ll be any complications.”

The doctor eyed Embry’s parents. “Sir, Ma’am, if you’d like, you can come with me and see her as soon as she wakes up.” Dean and Celia nodded emphatically, then turned back to Luke and Morgan. Celia grabbed Luke’s hand, then reached up to pat his cheek. “We’ll come get you as soon as she’s awake. She’ll be asking for you.”

He forced a smile and nodded. “Tell her I love her.”

Dean clapped him on the arm. “You’ll tell her yourself soon enough, son.”

Luke sat back in the hard, plastic seat beside Morgan as Embry’s parents followed the doctor down the hallway. He was lost in his thoughts when Brett came rushing in. Morgan fell into his arms, sobbing.

“I’m so sorry. I got here as soon as I could.” Brett rubbed Morgan’s back, gently soothing her and trying to calm her. When that didn’t work, his pained eyes found Luke’s. “How is she, man?”

Luke shrugged weakly. “She’ll be all right.”

He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to feel. He just wanted—needed—Embry. Needed to see her, touch her, feel her warm skin beneath his fingers, see her jade green eyes fluttering open to know, believe, that she was really okay.

Heavy footsteps echoed off the tiled floor as two uniformed police officers walked into the waiting room. Morgan had settled down by then, and she and Brett sat next to Luke as the officers approached.

“Are you friends of Embry Jacobs?”

All three nodded and Morgan spoke up. “W—we’re her best friends,” she said, gesturing between herself and Brett, “and this is her boyfriend.”

Luke looked up at them, eyes bloodshot and weary. “Have you found anything, officers?”

“Do either of you known anyone who drives a light blue vehicle?”

Morgan and Brett shook their heads immediately, while Luke racked his brain, wondering why it sounded so familiar.

He looked up at the policemen in question.

“There were a few witnesses in the area, and from their accounts, whoever drove your girlfriend off the road…”

Fuck…

The officer’s words faded into the background as it all came together in Luke’s head in a moment of heartbreaking, soul-shattering clarity.

Light blue car…

Drove your girlfriend off the road…

This entire time he’d thought maybe it was some kind of freak accident, or worst case scenario, a drunk driver. But the thought had never crossed his mind that it had been deliberate, intentional—that someone would go out of their way to physically harm Embry. He’d thought that after everything they’d been through, it was just bad luck, wrong place, wrong time, the universe working against them like Embry’d said. His heart broke a little more as he remembered her words. But then a different memory entirely filled his head and his heart nearly pounded out of his chest.

A terrifying realization crashed through him as an image played in his head clear as day—Sydney stepping out of a light blue, hard-top convertible, pure evil filling her to the root of her soul.

The steel weight of guilt nearly crushed him as a strangled cry clawed its way up his throat. But he tamped it down, swallowing thickly and sucking in a breath before leveling his eyes on the officers in front of him and expelling her name like a curse.

“Sydney Chase.”

Luke walked back into the waiting room, shoulders hunched in defeat. The police had questioned him for over an hour about Sydney, and he’d told them everything he knew, everything that had happened, starting at the very beginning.

It was his fault. He’d brought Sydney here. Embry was nothing more than an innocent fly tangled in her web, and she was nearly destroyed because of it. He’d already run through the full range of emotions, from grief to pure fucking rage. From feeling as if he’d break down crying, to wanting to destroy everything in his path until he found his way to Sydney and ruined her the way she’d ruined Embry.

But now, as he made his way back into the waiting room, back to face Embry’s friends, he couldn’t feel anything past the crippling guilt that flooded his veins, drowning him in shame.

Brett’s head rested against the wall behind him, jaw slack as he snored quietly. Morgan was snuggled into his side, her eyes puffy and red, dark streaks running down her face the only remnants of the makeup she’d been previously wearing.

Her eyes found Luke, following him silently as he walked back into the room, and she untangled herself from Brett, leaving him to sleep as she led Luke down the hallway. She stopped abruptly and looked up at him expectantly.

He straightened to his full height, readying for her wrath. “It was me. I hurt her. I’m the reason. It’s my fault, Morgan. I don’t know if I can ever make this right.”

Her eyes softened, and she shook her head. “It’s not you, you big idiot.”

“I—what?” He’d expected her blame, her anger. Instead he saw sympathy bleeding out of her.

“This isn’t your fault. I know you think it is. I know you feel a sense of responsibility for bringing that psychotic southern belle into Embry’s life, and I’ll give you that. But you didn’t do this, you didn’t hurt her, you didn’t cause this pain.”

He rubbed at the tension in his neck as he digested her words.

Morgan gave him a pointed look. “Your girl just came out of surgery. She’s laying in a hospital bed with broken ribs and a missing spleen, and all she could think about was you. So you’re going to suck it up and go in there, hold her hand, and tell her you love her and take her pain away like only you can.”

He looked at her with a newfound respect, his lips lifting into a slight smile. “I think I’m beginning to see why Embry keeps you around.”

She shot him a withering look and grabbed him by the elbow. Together they walked down the hallway and toward a bank of elevators as she updated him on what he’d missed while he’d been with the police.

“Her parents left a short while ago, they’ll be back in the morning. Brett and I already saw her, but all she wants is you. She’s sleeping now, but you can go in and you can stay.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she cut him off with a shake of her head. “I’ve already had it out with all of the nurses on the floor, and they know there will be no removing you from her bedside. Just make sure you let her rest.”

He looked down at her in awe.

“She’s one floor up. Room six-twenty-one, third down on the left. It’s a private room.” Morgan pushed the button for the elevator, then waited with him, a show of silent support by his side.

Luke’s arm shot out as he grabbed her and pulled her roughly into him. “Thank you, Morgan.”

She nodded into his chest, then pulled back to look up at him. “You’re welcome.” The elevator dinged and she stepped back. “Go take care of our girl.”

Luke nodded, taking a step toward the elevator when Morgan suddenly stopped him with a hand on his elbow.

“She’s pretty beat up, Luke.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she forced a sad smile. “She’s okay. Just… prepare yourself.”

Pretty beat up.
He swallowed hard and fought the urge to put his fist through the wall just to deal with all of the anger and pain welling up inside of him.

He watched Morgan walk away and stood in the hallway alone. The elevator had long since closed its doors and continued its upward journey. Finally, he decided to take the stairs, opting to keep moving. He was afraid if he stopped for even a second he’d fall apart.

One floor up, six-twenty-one.

His steps echoed in the stairwell as he climbed the single flight of stairs. Pushing through the door, his eyes traveled the hallway until he got his bearings.
Third down on the left.

The hall was nearly deserted this time of night. He walked quietly down, nodding at the nurses at their station and the ones wandering around, until he found Embry’s room.

The door was ajar, and he pushed it open further, standing in the doorway as he assessed her. The light from the hallway cast a shadow across her features, but he could see the bruises on her face, her arms, standing out in stark contrast to her pale skin.

He took a shaky breath and stepped quietly into the room. As he drew nearer, he saw more evidence of Sydney’s depravity. A split, bloody lip, a small bandage on the side of her head, the IV sticking out of her arm, pumping whatever painkillers were helping her sleep soundly.

My beautiful, broken girl.
He could barely breathe seeing her like this. His body began to tremble as rage ate its way through him, nearly consuming him.
Sydney.
Her name played on a loop in his head, taunting him, mocking him.
She did this
. He fought the urge to trash the room, unplug all of the wires and cords connected to Embry and take her home. Keep her safe, protected, like he should’ve done in the first place. And with that thought, the fury melted away replaced by guilt and grief.

He eased himself into the chair beside her bed, before his knees gave way. His eyes roamed her body, bile rising in his throat as he thought about the terror she must’ve felt, the pain she’d endured. This hospital was no place for her. It was wrong. She shouldn’t be here; it should be him.
He would’ve switched places with her in a heartbeat, would gladly be the one in the hospital bed, bruised and broken. Instead, he was engulfed in the fiery flames of despair as he watched her chest rise and fall in shallow breaths.

Fuck, how could I have let this happen?

Tears stung the backs of his eyes, emotion forcing its way up his throat, screaming for release.

His fingers burned to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin, a small assurance that she was okay, alive. Today could’ve turned out so differently—he could’ve lost her forever. Just the idea tore through him, nearly bowling him over.

Gently, he slipped his hand beneath hers on the bed, leaning his chest against the mattress. Then he rested his forehead on her hand as tears slipped from his eyes.

“Jesus, Embry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Embry blinked her eyes open, disoriented. Her entire body ached, and she was groggy as hell. Attempting a deep breath, a searing pain shot through her as her chest expanded.
Ouch, fuck!

Her left hand had fallen asleep, the painful pricks and tingles causing her to wake. Her eyes shifted downward to find the culprit, a head of messy brown hair resting heavily against her.

She flexed her fingers, causing the head to pop up, and she was met with dark, stormy blue eyes, tears hanging on his cheeks and clinging to his perfect jaw.

Slowly, she lifted her hand and cupped the side of his face. “Luke.”

Tears clouded her eyes as he leaned into her stiff fingers. Then he closed his eyes, his face crumpling, unconcealed pain marring on his beautiful features.

“Baby,” she croaked. Emotions flooded her, threatening to overwhelm. She fought back tears, afraid if she started crying, she might never stop.

She was alive, she was safe. A little worse for wear, but that was all right. She had Luke… they had each other.

He gently pressed his own hand against hers, pinning it there on his cheek, and smiled with effort. “Hi, beautiful.”