Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I’m exhausted and numb.
My eyes burn from the smoke, but my body feels unbelievably heavy, like it has turned to lead. I can’t move. I just sit there, my knees drawn up, staring at the ruins. My heart is broken, my mind is blank.
Hugh comes to me, his face smudged with ash, his eyes soft. His voice is gentle as he kneels next to me.
“Lauren, you need to get cleaned up and rest. We’ll assess the damage in the morning.”
His hand touches my arm, warm, steady, and I look at him, his face blurring through my tears. I collapse. My body folds into his, all my strength gone, my shock and grief too heavy to carry alone. Thankfully, he’s there to hold me, his arms strong, his chest solid, and I cling to him. He feels warm and safe.
So I shut my eyes and let myself rest.
Chapter
Forty-Six
HUGH
One moment she was awake, and the next second, she’s gone limp in my arms.
“Lauren,” I shake her gently. “Baby, wake up.”
But she doesn’t. Panic claws my chest. Has she just fainted, or has the fire taken her away from me?
My heart hammers as I fumble for my phone. Even my fingers are shaking as I scroll for my helicopter pilot’s number. My voice cracks as I shout at him frantically.
“Where the hell are you? Get here now!”
He’s calm, too calm, saying he’s less than minutes out. He’ll land on the estate’s helipad, but ten minutes feels like forever when she is so still, so fragile in my arms.
I clutch her tighter, her body warm but unresponsive, and I run toward the helipad. The ten minutes do indeed feel like a lifetime.
Finally, the chopper’s roar cuts the air, blades slicing the night. It touches down, kicking up dust and leaves, and the spotlight is blinding. Cradling Lauren, I climb aboard and bark at the pilot.
“Hurry, fly us to St. Mary’s in London. Now!”
The door slams, the chopper lifts, and we’re airborne, the blackened cottage shrinking below, a black wound against the dark.
I hold her close, my arms wrapped around her, her head tucked under my chin, and I check her pulse, my fingers trembling against her wrist, finding it faint but steady. She’s fine, I tell myself. She just fainted. The shock and the stress. Not death, but the fear lingers, a vice around my heart, because she’s so pale, so still, and I can’t lose her, not after I waited so long to find her.
Not now. Please. Not yet.
We land at St. Mary’s, the helipad’s lights stark, medics waiting with a gurney, their faces grim under fluorescent vests. I carry her out, reluctant to let go, but I have to let them take her. They lay her on the gurney, her blonde hair spilling over the side, her white face smudged with soot and ash.
I follow, a strange figure reeking of smoke and coated with soot.
The hospital’s halls are a blur—sterile white walls, beeping monitors, the squeak of gurney wheels—as they wheel her to the VIP wing, a private room with soft lighting, a wide bed, and a window framing London’s pre-dawn skyline. I stay by her side, every step, my hand brushing her arm, my eyes locked on her face, searching for a flicker of life, a sign she’s coming back to me.
The doctor, a woman with wary eyes, checks Lauren, her movements brisk but gentle. She lifts her eyelids and shines a light, checks her pulse and her breathing.
“It is most likely shock,” she concludes, “and possible smoke inhalation.”
They pierce her arm with the needle and hook her to an IV. A clear fluid drip to stabilize my baby and bring back her strength. A young nurse with a kind smile comes in and checks Lauren’s throat with a scope. Her gloved hands are careful. She tells me she is looking for soot, burns, or signs that the fire’s left its mark inside her.
I watch, my chest tight, my hands clenched, because every second feels like a verdict. I’m waiting to know that she’s truly okay. The nurse nods, satisfied, saying her throat’s clear, no serious damage, and I exhale the shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding.
She turns to me, her eyes narrowing at my soot-streaked face and my rasping breaths. “Sir, we need to check you too,” she says in a firm voice. “Smoke inhalation can be deadly if untreated, and it is incredibly easy to miss.”
I shake my head, my voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I stay rooted by Lauren’s bed, my hand brushing her hair from her face, the soft strands gritty with ash. I’m close to tears, my eyes are actually stinging with them, and it’s not from the smoke but from the fear I might’ve lost her tonight. I fight to hold them back, because the nurse is watching, because I need to be strong for her.