“You gonna wake up and give the hospital hell that there isn’t a speck of color in this room?” the voice asked.
Another layer of awareness slid over me. I knew the owner of that voice.
Anson.
My eyelids fluttered on instinct, my eyes desperate to see him. It took a few tries to get them open, but I finally succeeded. Anson stared down at me, his blue-gray eyes swirling. His thick scruff was even longer, and he had smudges of darkness under his eyes. But there was such tenderness in his expression. “There she is.”
“Hi,” I croaked.
Anson moved but didn’t let go of my hand. He grabbed a cup of water with a straw and held it to my lips. I took a few tentative sips, then a deeper drink, trying to put the pieces together.
I finally registered that I was in a hospital. I frowned as Anson pulled the cup away. “What?—?”
It all came flooding back. Silas. The attack. The knife. The standoff.
“We fell through the floor…”
Anson reached up, gently brushing the hair away from my face. “Took ten years off my life.” He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. “But you’re okay.”
It sounded like he was saying it as much for himself as for me. I tried to lift my hand to his face but couldn’t make it work. I frowned as Anson pulled back, and I saw why. My entire arm was in a bulky cast.
“You broke your arm in a couple of places,” Anson said. “Needed some of that medical glue on your neck, bruised your ribs, and you have a nasty concussion. But the doctors said you’ll likely be able to go home the day after tomorrow.”
I wanted that. Home. With Anson. “Biscuit?” I asked.
“Arden’s been taking care of him. He’s just fine. And Thea said she can keep the kittens.”
Good. That was good. I looked up into Anson’s eyes and asked what I’d been too scared to voice until this very moment. “Silas?”
A muscle in his jaw tensed. “He’s dead. He broke his neck in the fall.”
Everything inside me twisted in an ugly stew. Relief. Sadness. Even an echo of fear. “Are you okay?”
Anson’s thumb ghosted across the swell of my cheek. “She’s lying in a hospital bed and asking ifI’mokay.”
“Because I love you, and you just went through hell all over again.” I wasn’t sure which would be worse, being the person taken or watching the person who meant everything to you at the hands of a madman—a psychopath who’d already stolen your sister.
Anson’s throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m not a good man. I’m glad the bastard’s dead. He was a monster. The world is a better place without him in it.”
I managed to raise my uncasted hand to Anson’s face, careful not to pull at my IV. I stroked his thick stubble. “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
That muscle along Anson’s jaw began fluttering wildly. “He hurtyou,” Anson growled, shoving to his feet, my hand falling away. “He almostkilledyou.” He began pacing the small, drab room. “And all because I didn’t see what was right in front of my face.”
“Shut up,” I snapped.
Anson jerked to a surprised halt. “What did you just say?”
“I saidshut up. You’re a genius. You should be smarter than blaming yourself for not seeing someone who was clearly a master manipulator.” My heart cracked, splintering, grooves driving into it. But I knew Anson wouldn’t respond to gentleness and empathy right now. He needed to be snapped out of his self-flagellation.
Anson’s jaw worked back and forth. “I’m trained to see through manipulation.”
“You didn’t have all the information you needed. So, how could you have?” I pressed. Everything ached at the thought of Anson taking all this on his shoulders. The blame that had clearly been piling on while I’d been unconscious.
“I didn’t want to see,” he said finally. “For the past year and a half, I’ve been trying desperately to turn off the part of me that analyzes people.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
“If I hadn’t, maybe I would’ve seen the signs.”
