His to Protect: A Fireside Novel(37)

I might not have had a lot of healthy relationships in my life, but I was determined to make this relationship with Declan the best one that either of us had. And I hoped like hell we’d learned from our mistakes in the past, so we could make our relationship better and stronger.



“He’ll be okay, though? You promise?”

Dr. Klaus tugged at the ends of his stethoscope and gave me a reassuring smile. “He’ll be just fine. Like I said, keeping him here for the next few days is just a cautionary measure. We’re fortunate that when the bullet struck him, it didn’t hit any major arteries.”

I sunk into Declan’s side and closed my eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“When he gets home, though,” Dr. Klaus said, “don’t forget that he won’t be able to jump on furniture for a few weeks until his stitches are removed. We’ll go over further instructions when he’s ready to go home, but if there’s anything you need to do to make his life easier for the next six weeks, I like to give owners time to do that.”

I nodded frantically. “We will.”

He headed for the door and gave me another smile. “Take all the time you want with him, just try to keep him calm. He’s still coming out of sedation and shouldn’t get overly excited.”

I was the one who was in danger of becoming overly excited. In one of their recovery rooms for dogs, something that looked like a miniature hotel room in a four-foot-by-six-foot kennel, complete with doggy bed and pillow, Boomer was lounging lazily, his tail barely wagging.

Even his jowls seemed more droopy than normal.

Declan gave me another squeeze and shoved me gently in Boomer’s direction. “Go sit with him and hug him. You know you want to.”

I smiled because he was right, but Declan didn’t see it, because I was already moving, getting down on my knees in the short doorway in front of Boomer. He had a large gauze bandage on his chest. Dr. Klaus had told me there was another bandage on his stomach, but I couldn’t see it. He had a total of ten stitches in two locations, the entry wound and the incision necessary for the surgery.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered hoarsely as my hand rested on top of his head. Boomer’s tail tapped against the bed twice before settling down. “I’m so sorry I got you shot, buddy. But I swear to you, you get home and get better and I’ll be the best doggy mommy anyone’s ever seen.”

His cold, black nose nudged the palm of my hand and he licked it once before setting his face back down on the pillow.

I stayed with him for several minutes, gently running my hand from his head to his tail until his eyes closed and I knew he’d fallen back asleep. Leaning forward, I kissed the top of his head. “I’ll be back to see you tomorrow, I promise.”

Pushing back up to my feet, I headed out of the kennel to see Declan’s soft eyes on mine. He held out his hand and took mine, and pulled me to him. He kissed the top of my head and I smiled, because it was so similar to how I’d just kissed Boomer’s.

“You’re already a great doggy mom,” he whispered. “And he’s going to be just fine, too.”

“I know.” My chin wobbled but I held my emotion in. Between the vet and the police station I was too exhausted to shed any more tears today.

“Ready to head to the airport?”

No. No, I wasn’t.

I’d already spent an hour at the police station giving Officer Mars my statement, telling him everything I could remember from yesterday. He had been kind and patient with me, but I still left there feeling ragged and drained. The entire time, all I could think of was getting to Boomer.

Now that I had seen him and been assured he was going to be just fine, I wanted a nap. A really long one. Possibly another bubble bath.

The look on my face must have expressed my thoughts for me.

A low rumble sounded in my chest and Declan snickered. “They’ll like you, I promise. And if they don’t, I don’t care.”

“I want them to like me.”

He pushed me back from him, his hands framing my face. “And they will, because they’ll see how happy you make me and how incredible you are. Swear it.”

“Okay,” I muttered, somewhat petulantly. This only made Declan laugh a little bit harder as he guided me out of the recovery area of the veterinary hospital.

I wanted to believe him.

But I could only imagine what his parents must be thinking and feeling right now. If I was ever in their shoes, I would certainly not be excited to meet a woman whose husband showed up outside their son’s place of business and aimed a gun at their son before killing himself.





Chapter 22


Declan


“Stop fidgeting,” I muttered, even though her nervousness was making it difficult not to laugh.

Next to me, Trina ran her hands down the sides of her skinny jeans, which were tucked into a pair of dark-brown boots. I’d rolled my eyes earlier, when she came downstairs dressed in jeans and boots and a simple, white, V-neck T-shirt, asking if we could stop by a mall and do some shopping for a better outfit.

Like my parents gave a shit what she wore.

And right now, dressed as simply as she was, she looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was braided down her back, and I knew it was more than just the nerves making her cheeks flush. She was excited at the same time.

And once again, I was fucking grateful that I could give her something to look forward to, something to help erase all the shit we’d gone through in the last twenty-four hours.

But I was even more thankful that she could at least be excited about something, knowing that just yesterday, her husband held a gun to her fucking head. I held her last night as she slept. I hadn’t slept for a single second, because I kept expecting nightmares to wake her and I wanted to be there to comfort her.

Other than the shock from Boomer being hurt, though, she seemed to be doing okay.

Or she was burying it in a deep pit of denial, and it was all going to overflow when she least expected it. Which meant that for the next few days, or weeks, I’d have to keep a closer eye on her.

Not that that was a hardship. She was beautiful and I wanted to look at her every day for the rest of my life. Which, surprisingly, wasn’t at that all scary to think about, considering that up until about six weeks ago, I was dead set on the idea of never getting married again.

Now, not only had I practically forced Trina to move in with me, I couldn’t wait to see my bling decorating her ring finger.

As if knowing what I was thinking, even though she’d think I was crazy for it, she brushed against my side.

I wrapped one arm low on her waist, loving the way she fit so perfectly next to me.

“I can’t help but be nervous,” she said, her voice just above a whisper, and tipped her head back.

I covered her hand with mine and scowled. “Stop thinking about it.”

“I can’t help it.”

“My parents are good people, Trina. They’re kind and they’re open. My dad is going to punch me in the shoulder, my mom is going to roll her eyes and hug me, fussing over the fact that I could have been hurt, and then she’s going to hug you and welcome you to the family.”

“They’re going to investigate what kind of crazy woman you’re connected to.”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and tugged her closer. “We’ll see.”

My foot began to tap impatiently. I was beginning to grow anxious, not about seeing my parents, but about proving Trina wrong.

When I called my parents last night, just to give them a heads-up once Tyson had reminded me that this disaster would probably hit the media at some pointand soonafter the shock wore off, all my mom said was, “You happy?”

When I told her yes, I could almost see her smile through the phone line before she said they’d be on the soonest flight out.

My eyes scanned the new crowd of people coming down the escalator toward the baggage claim. Being a head taller than everyone else had its perks in situations like this, and it didn’t take me long to spot my mom and dad on the escalator.

His full head of hair seemed grayer than it had just a few months ago, when I saw them last, but his amber eyes were the same. I watched as he placed his arm around my mom’s waist and pulled her to his hip in a way that was similar to how I was holding Trina.

His eyes scanned the area.

Like father, like son.

His chin lifted in acknowledgement when our eyes met, and I got Trina’s attention.

Gesturing with my index finger, I pointed to where my parents were and she rose to her toes. “They’re here.”

She turned to look for them, and I grinned as my dad began pushing his way through a small throng of people without appearing to be rude while doing so.

He just had that way about him, and at six foot two and over two hundred pounds, he was smaller than me now, but he still was not a guy to mess with. Years of being in the Army Reserve and working as a firefighter had made him a man no one wanted to mess with.

“My boy,” my mom said when she saw us. Immediately her hands framed my face and she pulled me to her. I inhaled the familiar scent of jasmine before her lips brushed against my cheek.

“Hey, Ma.”

She let go of my face and smiled. “What am I going to do with my boys?”

I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and nodded toward Trina.

“Ma, this is Trina.”