Rebel holds up his hand, then, too. “And I’m obviously worried about my wife. I think I should go and see her first, just to let her know—”
“Shut up. You can both go in and see her. Together. Sophia can chose which one of your asses she wants to kick out all by herself. You two,” the nurse says, pointing an authoritative finger at Zeth and Cade. “You two are gonna wait here.”
Zeth and Cade do as they’re told and wait in the hallway, and Rebel and me follow after the nurse, down the corridor, into an elevator, up three awkwardly silent floors, and then into the ICU. I should feel at home here—the majority of my trauma patients either start off or end up in a ward just like this one at some point within the length of their treatment—but I don’t feel at home. I feel sick. The smell of disinfectant and the chorus of life support machines blipping from behind closed doors ignites a level of panic inside me that I’ve only ever experienced once—yesterday in Julio Perez’s kitchen. The nurse guides us to a room and opens the door, giving both Rebel and me a glance of warning before disappearing. Rebel walks in before me, his hand covering his mouth.
Alexis is bundled up in the hospital bed, thankfully not hooked up to life support, but she looks bad. Her face is pallid and drawn, and her eyes are bloodshot. But most importantly, her eyes are open. She sees us the moment we enter the room and her mouth falls open. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “Sloane?”
I’m suddenly really fucking angry again. I’ve imagined this moment a thousand times before. A million. And in none of my imagined moments where Alexis and I are reunited does she look horrified. She’s overwhelmed, deliriously happy, crying with tears of joy. Not gripping hold of the blanket covering her legs so hard her knuckles turn white. She swallows, looking from me to Rebel and back again. “What are you doing here, Sloane?”
“What am I doing here? What the hell am I…” I can’t. I can’t even…
Rebel, a towering pillar of muscle and tattoos, moves around the side of her bed and sits on the edge of it, taking hold of her hand. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.
Alexis’ gaze flickers to him; she nods her head, the robotic movements of someone completely at a loss for words.
“Good. I’m glad you’re okay,” he says carefully. “Babe, remember when we got married? And you said it would have been the most perfect day if only your sister could have been there? Well, about that…”
Alexis tries to pull her hand away, but Rebel’s got a decent if cautious grip on her. “I’m sorry, baby,” she says. “I just…I didn’t...” There are tears welling in her eyes. Alexis was always one for crocodile tears when she wasn’t getting her own way, but these look genuine enough. She’s shaking. “I swear I didn’t mean to lie to you. And I swear I’ll tell you everything. But…can I just have a moment with her?” With her? Alexis sees how black my mood is becoming and amends her words. “ I need a moment with my sister.”
Rebel grunts, stands and then places a kiss on the top of her head. “Be careful,” he says to her. “Dr Romera attacks when provoked.”
He leaves the room, winking at me as he goes. I think about Zeth and how he would react to something like; probably smash his head through the observation window. If only I had Zeth’s body mass.
“You can stop looking at him like that.”
Alexis’ voice is a little stronger now, but still a shaken. “How the hell should I be looking at him, Lex? Should I be warmly embracing my new brother in law, the human trafficker?”
“Yes. No, wait. He’s not…he’s not what you think, Sloane.”
I can barely believe my own ears. He has brainwashed her. She has Stockholm’s or something. “So you weren’t kidnapped from outside college? And this guy didn’t force you to marry him?”
Alexis sighs, and then scrubs her hands over her face. The tears are falling now. “Yes, I was taken. But it wasn’t by him. He helped me,” she tells me though her hands. When she removes them, there’s a fierce set to her jaw. “And he didn’t force me to marry him, Sloane. You have to believe that.”
“Then why on earth did you marry the president of a bike gang? Because I’m really struggling to understand any of this.”
She sniffs, swatting the tears from her cheeks. “I married him because he’s the other half of me, Sloane. The slightly grumpy, slightly scary, and deeply wonderful other half of me. I married him because I love him.”