“How are you feeling, Mr. Jackson?”

As the nurse peered down at me, that annoying light shining in my eyes, I squinted my eyes and averted my face. “Like I’m going to go blind if you keep doing that. I want to talk to my fiancée.”

I was lying.

Well, sort of.

I hadn’t actually asked Maya just what our relationship was at this point, but if I didn’t tell them something, they weren’t going to let us see each other, and I’d just woken up, so I wouldn’t be going anywhere any time soon.

I’d been told Maya had been looked over while I’d been in surgery. They’d refused to tell me anything else until I’d convinced them we were engaged. Then they’d only said that she’d been sitting with me for the past twenty minutes, and she’d be back soon.

Then, a couple minutes after that, a white-haired doctor with a somewhat disapproving demeanor had come in and spoken to me.

“Am I to assume you’re the father?”

The question had been used as an insult. I hadn’t taken it as one. I’d just smiled and replied yes, then asked how she was.

His words had been pointed, pulling no punches. “It’s not good for a woman in her condition to be exposed to so much violence. Her blood pressure was rather elevated and she’s quite…agitated. The only reason I allowed her in here was because it was an easier way to calm her than forcing drugs on her. If I find that your behavior risks the health of my patient, I’ll keep you away from her.”

I hadn’t liked it.

But I’d heard what I needed to hear. He was serious about caring for the woman I loved. I’d do whatever he said if it meant she was safe.

As the nurse checked my dressing, I caught her wrist. “I’m fine,” I said, irritated. That was probably pushing it. My shoulder and upper chest hurt like hell. The doctor had assured me it was a simple injury—the bullet had gone in and out. That didn’t sound simple to me, but what did I know? But I wasn’t dying, and that was all that mattered. “When can I see my fiancée?”

The nurse pulled back and eyed me. The look on her face made me think she was hiding a smile. Then, she wasn’t hiding it anymore. “That’s why I’m in here, Mr. Jackson. I had to make sure you were up to the visit. Wait here.”

She disappeared too fast for me to ask her anything.

I would’ve gone after her, but all the medicine they’d pumped into me have me moving way too slow. Still, I tried. Slipping off the bed, I grabbed onto the handrail and looking around. I was in a small, private room – no doubt thanks to Florence.

Before I could make up my mind whether I should try to get up again, doors swung open at the far end of the room and the nurse appeared, pushing a wheelchair.

And in the chair…Maya.

I took a step, then another.

On the third, I stumbled and went to my knees.

Maya gasped and the nurse rushed to me. I shook my head, holding out a hand.

I tried to say her name, but my throat was too tight.

The nurse got it.

Moments later, Maya was in front of me and I pressed my face to her legs, praying and whispering and trying not to cry.

She bent over me, her hands running through my hair as she murmured and talked. None of her words made sense. But they didn’t need to. She was here and she was safe.

Slowly, I slid my hand up and rested it on her stomach.

Not even a minute later, something thumped against my hand.

I laughed weakly.

Maya covered my hand with hers. “The baby is fine.”

“Thank God,” I said.

“Yes.”

* * *

One of the nurses had found us a quiet balcony that offered us even more privacy than our rooms.

Maya sat in a chair, her wheelchair off to the side. I sat next to her.

They’d tried to give me a wheelchair, too, then went silent as I glared at the offending contraption like they’d offered me raw sewage in a bucket.

I could walk, damn it.

My legs might feel like wet noodles by the time I got back to my bed, but I could walk.

And there wasn’t any reason for my legs to feel that way, either. I’d taken a bullet to my upper chest, not my legs. But since I’d never been shot before, I had no idea what was normal.

I laid a hand on her belly. “They better be taking care of you.”

“I’m fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not made of glass.”

“This is all my fault. If it wasn’t for me, Kimberly wouldn’t have done what she did. She should rot in prison.” I scowled.

“Something isn’t right with her,” Maya said. “You aren’t responsible for this. And in a way, she isn’t entirely responsible either.”

“I don’t know if I want to believe that or not.”

“You should.” She covered my hand with hers and squeezed. “Be angry. It’s okay. She made stupid, ugly choices, and that’s what led to her ending up like this. But something else was at play, too.”

With my free hand, I brushed her hair back. “I think you’ve got more kindness in you than I do.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’ve got plenty of kindness. It’s just buried right now under hurt, anger…fear.”

It was my turn to offer a blustering sort of smile. “You think I’m too macho to admit I was afraid?”

“Oh, you’ll admit it to me.” She sighed and leaned in against me. “Now, I want to forget the past day. All of it. Can we do that?”

“I’m just fine with that.” Hugging her tight, I buried my face in her hair. After a few minutes of just sitting there and holding her, I spoke again. “I’m done with all of this, you know.”

Her gaze came to mine, somber and sad. “Done with what?”

“All of this. This…waiting. The rituals. That’s what dating is. We’ve already gone through that. We know who we are to each other.” Covering her cheek with my hand, I stared into her eyes. “I love you, Maya. You’re the only woman I will ever love. And I’m…tired. I don’t want to play these games anymore. I’m ready to move on to what’s next.”

“And what’s next?” Her voice was soft, hovering just above a whisper.

“Us. Forever.”