“You didn’t do wrong,” Tate said, not knowing what went down, if what he said was a lie, or the truth.
What it was was what she needed to hear right then.
Though calling Chace was the right thing.
“Then I saw it was Rudy. My cousin. I thought I could talk him down. We’re Lonesomes. He wouldn’t hurt me. No matter how fucked up he was, he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I can see you thinkin’ that.”
“He…he…didn’t mind hurting me.”
Tate knew that to be true but he didn’t say anything.
“I got Deke the gun,” she whispered.
“Right, honey.”
“But I’m worried I did wrong.”
“Got lots of worries right now, Jussy. Why don’t you let that one go for now?”
“He tackled me.”
“Who? Your cousin?”
“He tackled me,” she repeated.
“Jussy—”
She burrowed in, fuck, so strong, she almost took his back to the gurney.
Tate braced, wrapped her tight and shifted his gaze to his wife’s anguished eyes.
“He didn’t tackle me,” Justice whispered, her voice fracturing. “He shielded me.”
That was when she went down, knees failing.
Tate caught her as she fell, pulled her up, swung her out and settled her in his lap.
She cried in his neck, holding on tight.
She was limp, almost lifeless when she’d cried herself out.
He coaxed her to take the sedative. As she got drowsy, he and Laurie helped her wash her hands. As she’d been crying, Lauren made the calls, got through to Twyla who hadn’t left yet. When she arrived, they got Jussy’s jacket off, her bloody shirt, and changed her into one of Twyla’s sweaters.
She didn’t lapse into sleep until they were in the waiting room and she did this collapsed into Tate’s side, holding the bundle of her bloody clothes tight to her chest like a child would a teddy bear.
He moved her head to his thigh, Krys shifting in to lift her legs, curl her up on the seat beside him. And Lexie covered her with Ty’s jacket.
Everyone showed, including Chace.
He reported the two men who invaded Justice’s home were both DOA.
Eventually, a lot of the folks who showed left. They had little kids. They had to get home.
It was the early hours of the morning when the surgeon came out.
Deke pulled through. But he’d lost a tremendous amount of blood, took four bullets, the damage was extensive, and he was in critical condition.
As he spoke carefully, uncomfortably, words he didn’t have to say because his manner screamed it, the surgeon shared they could not make any guarantees. If he lasted twenty-four hours, something left unspoken but it was clear the doctor did not think that would happen, then there might be hope.
“But, think it’s best, if he’s of that religion, that you call for Last Rites,” the man finished solemnly.
This made Nadine, Cindy and Lauren all lose it, Twyla, Jim-Billy and Jonas moving in to give them comfort.
They all did that quietly.
Tate couldn’t offer his wife that comfort.
He just felt his stomach squeeze, the intensity of the pain forcing sick to surge up his throat.
But he swallowed it back and did what his brother would want him to do.
He sat immobile, Jussy’s head still on his thigh, his fingers shifting through her hair soothingly even though she was still fast asleep.
At least she’d missed that.
At least.
* * * * *
Tate woke with a start, his body’s movement bringing Laurie’s head up from his shoulder.
He stared into the room, not knowing where the fuck he was for a moment before he saw Jim-Billy, head bowed down, baseball cap pulled over his eyes, asleep in a chair in the hospital waiting room across from Tate, Nadine tucked to his side. And down from them, Jonas stretched out on chairs, arm over his head to block out the light, asleep.
He looked right and saw Krys walking in, her movements agitated, Bubba following her, Breanne strapped in swaddling to the big man’s chest.
For a second, Tate stared at Krys, thrown. He knew where he was. He knew why he was there. He hated it like fuck.
But he’d never in his life seen Krys without makeup, her hair straggling down straight, looking just washed, dried, but untouched.
He got over that, turned his head left and saw Twyla standing at the end of the row of seats, eyes aimed out the window, Cindy in a seat, eyes open, on Krys, but she was leaning into her woman.
“Word?” Krys rapped out.
Fuck, he was going to have to tell her.
Fuck.
She’d been gone, home with Bubba and their new baby, when the surgeon came.
Tate started to get up but felt Lauren’s hand curl on his thigh.
He looked to his wife.
“Where’s Jussy?” she asked.