His Every Word (4 page)

There was nothing but the steady hum and whine and wheeze of air pumping and gasping and the electrical beeps of Hunter’s heart rate on the machine near his bed.

“Did you hear the nurse?” she asked him, trying to have a conversation, hoping he might fall for it and end up talking back to her somehow. “She says you’re going to be fine by tomorrow. Or at least, you won’t need this machine.” Kallie held his hand and leaned against it, than lowered her mouth to kiss the back of his hand. It was smooth and warm and dry.

“I need to hear your voice again soon, Hunter. I miss you. I love you. Please be strong, because…” she started to cry. The tears ran down her cheeks. “Because you’re everything to me. You’re my whole world and I can’t lose you now that we only just found each other. Okay? So please keep fighting for us.”

No response.

She laid his hand back at his side.

The room was quiet and a little chilly. She looked at his still, peaceful face and felt a scream rising in her throat.

Is he going to die in here tonight? Is he doing to die alone?

But slowly, slowly, Kallie regained control of her emotions and thoughts. You can’t think negatively in here, she reprimanded herself. He might pick up on that. Stay positive, stay strong for him.

And then Kallie turned and left the room, trying to keep up her façade as Scarlett reassured her of how good and fine and right it all was. Scarlett’s steady patter of calming words served to blur the time as they made their way back to the hospital waiting room, where Sean was once again asleep at his chair.

Kallie woke him and told him it was time to leave.

Gratefully, he stood up and the three of them took the elevators down to the first floor. Sean had booked rooms for them at the Hilton, just a block away. Scarlett was about a quarter mile away at the Holiday Inn.

So Scarlett got a cab out front and left, waving and promising to see them bright and early the next morning at the hospital.

Kallie and Sean began the short walk back to their hotel.

The two of them were exhausted and barely able to speak as they made their way.

The cars and people and life moving around them seemed unreal and unimportant. They were in their own separate little bubble—they had been in an unimaginable situation, still trying to come to grips with what they’d been through.

“Are you okay, Sean?” she asked him, as they walked together.

“I just keep replaying it over and over again,” he said. “That guy coming in the restaurant and the look on his face.”

“I know,” she said, remembering it herself—how sure she’d been that she was going to die.

“I turned and ran, just like you told me to,” Sean laughed, shaking his head. “But it came real natural, the running. Like I was born to run.”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Sean. Anybody with half a brain runs when a person points a gun at them and starts shooting.”

“I always thought I was tough,” Sean said. “So fucking tough. Beating guys up who looked at me the wrong way. Hell, I was going to try and beat Hunter up not that long ago.”

Kallie had to smile, remembering the little stand off the two of them had, the night of Sean’s engagement party in New York. “That was pretty ridiculous,” she chuckled.

“And something tells me it wouldn’t have gone well for me if I’d been dumb enough to try anything that night,” he said, shaking his head once more. “God, how could I be so fucking blind?”

“Blind about what?”

“About the fact that it doesn’t take courage to get in a fight at a bar. It doesn’t mean anything. All those fights, all those years of standing up to people and making them back down. And then the one time that actually mattered…I was fucking scared. I was scared shitless and I did nothing.”

Kallie glanced at him. His face was pale, his hands clenched as they walked.

They were almost at the hotel now.

“Sean, look at me,” she said, slowing down.

He did, looking at her with confused, large blue eyes. “Yeah?”

“You’re a good guy with a good heart. And maybe you’re just a regular guy—

maybe you don’t have to be the one who saves everybody.”

“Why does it feel so bad?” he asked.

“Because you think it makes you weak. You think it matters.”

“It does matter and it does make me weak.”

Kallie shook her head. “It doesn’t matter to me. You’re still my brother, still the same kid who used to play Shoots and Ladders with me for hours on end when I was little, even though it bored you to tears. Still the same kid who told me jokes that night I watched Friday the Thirteenth when I wasn’t supposed to and got scared half to death.

You told me jokes and made the nightmares go away, Sean.” She went and hugged him tightly.

“I couldn’t make the nightmare go away today,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, though,” she told him. “It’s okay Seany.”

And this time, she meant it.

***

That night, despite everything she’d been through, Kallie managed to sleep deeply.

When she awoke again, it was just the crack of dawn and she felt like someone had plugged her in and wired her for sound. She was a bundle of energy and nerves; frightened of what the day held, but hopeful that maybe it would be good news.

Kallie got out of bed and called over to their old hotel that Hunter had booked them in West Hollywood. She explained to the concierge what had happened (she needn’t have explained—it appeared the entire hotel and possibly the whole state knew about the shooting) and asked for them to kindly send all of her and Hunter’s luggage to the Hilton.

“You can put it on my card,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Young,” the concierge replied. “Please do recover swiftly. The city of Los Angeles has you and Mister Reardon in our thoughts and prayers.”

“How very kind of you to say,” she told him.

“Your bags will be at your new hotel within the hour.”

“Thank you again,” she said, as they got off the phone.

That was a blessing, she thought, because she had no clothes or toiletries and the last thing she wanted to do was wear the same nasty clothes from yesterday all over again.

After her call, Kallie went and took a nice long shower. Everything ached this morning, she realized. Ached and stung—little pains that she hadn’t felt in the stress and turmoil of the previous day, she now felt acutely.

The small cuts on her palms from the shattered glass, burned in the heat of the shower’s spray. At the same time, it felt good to stand there in the steam and close her eyes and allow her muscles to relax and unwind slightly. Her neck was so tight, as if someone had turned imaginary screws into her shoulders and made every muscle stand out like a violin string.

She thought of Hunter as she closed her eyes and felt the heat and the burn on all of her small wounds.

The image of him lying there in that bed, completely still, his swollen body wrapped as if the hospital was in the process of mummifying him—it was like something out of a horror movie. Hunter was the most vibrant man Kallie had ever met, and now he’d become weak and fragile and cold.

That maniac had stolen Hunter from her, just when things between them were finally turning into something. Thinking like this made Kallie feel selfish, and she opened her eyes and finished the shower, got out and began drying off.

It’s not about you anymore, she told herself. It’s not about your disappointment or how your relationship was impacted. It’s about him—it’s about Hunter. He wasn’t thinking about himself when he risked his life to save you.

She wished that she had even half of his strength. How had he been so strong in that moment—so utterly without fear or hesitation? Even Sean had frozen when confronted with the reality of a truly violent attack.

But Hunter had been courageous and undaunted by the violent man with the gun.

When he had needed to act, Hunter had acted without a second thought, and as a result, Kallie was still alive.

She determined to be more like Hunter—to think less about her own needs and fears and more about what she could do to help him.

Having this conviction steeled her for the coming day, which she knew would be demanding and frightening. But she would sit by his side in the hospital and she would be there every day, every hour possible, until he was well enough to come home.

She wore a complimentary bathrobe as she waited for her luggage to arrive.

About half an hour later, she received a call from the front desk, and they told her that someone would be up momentarily.

The bellhops were deferential to a fault—as if they were dealing with the First Lady’s things. They couldn’t even meet her gaze, as they unloaded the bags and suitcases one by one and put them in her room.

She tried to tip them but they adamantly refused. One of them waved his arms with a pained expression. “We can’t take anything from you, Ma’am. Please. Please.

It’s our pleasure to help.”

They left and Kallie closed the door, wondering just how far the news of the attack had spread and what they were reporting about it. People’s reactions made it seem as though the entire city of Los Angeles was talking about what had happened—and maybe they were.

Relieved to finally have her clothes, Kallie put on an understated navy blue dress and the most modest heels she’d taken with her. Of course, she hadn’t planned for anything like this, and so her wardrobe was limited. Also, they had only figured to be in town for a couple of days, but she had enough clothes to get by for now. She’d have to go and buy some more things soon, though.

It was still too early to go to the hospital, so she went downstairs and had breakfast by herself in the little café that was attached to the hotel. She felt people’s eyes on her, watching, recognizing.

Maybe I’m just being paranoid now, she thought. But it certainly seemed as if people were recognizing her, especially the hotel staff.

Kallie sipped her coffee and ate a chocolate croissant, then decided to grab a paper to read. She expected there might be a story about what had happened yesterday, but she didn’t expect it to be on the front page.

But there it was, in stark black and white.

The headline read:

Blue Horizon Author Gravely Injured in Restaurant Shooting
Kallie’s eyes widened as she stared at the headline. Seeing it there made everything swim for a moment, as she struggled to digest that this story was about Hunter—her Hunter. Of course, she’d understood that he was a somewhat well known figure in the industry, but now it hit her that he was actually quite famous.

The article referred to him as an iconoclastic literary recluse, even comparing him to J.D. Salinger at one point. It went on to say that Hunter was known for his charm, good looks, and his absolute unwillingness to write the sequel to a book that had thrilled readers and a movie that had grossed over a hundred million dollars worldwide and been nominated for three Golden Globes and two Oscars.

It went on to describe the basic details of the incident, naming Kallie and Sean as victims, and even referred to Kallie as Hunter’s girlfriend. It noted that Terrence was a businessman from the Northeast, but didn’t mention his motive for the attack. The article also mentioned that Hunter had wrestled the gun from Terrence’s hands and that Terrence was killed in the ensuing struggle.

By the time she’d finished reading that article, Kallie’s palms were sweaty and her heart was beating rapidly. Somehow, knowing that all of these strangers were following the story made her very anxious.

But remember, she told herself, it’s not about you anymore. This is just the way it is.

She would need to keep reminding herself of that fact.

Finishing her small breakfast, Kallie folded the newspaper under her arm and walked outside into the cool, but fresh morning air. She would try and get into see Hunter as soon as possible, and if they wanted her to wait, she would sit and wait.

Walking to the hospital, Kallie focused herself on what she wanted to accomplish today. Her first priority was to see Hunter and be with him. Secondly, she wanted to find out more about his status and what the expectations were for his recovery. Again, if they wouldn’t divulge anything directly to her, than she could always work through Scarlett.

By the time she arrived at the nurse’s station in the ICU, Kallie was feeling ready to deal with whatever came her way.

What she wasn’t expecting, was the reaction she got when the on-duty nurse saw her. “Oh, we’ve been expecting you!” the young girl said with a smile.

Kallie stopped short. “Expecting me?” she asked, thinking the nurse must have her confused with somebody else.

The girl blushed a little. “You’re here to see Hunter Reardon, right? You’re Kallie Young?”

Kallie nodded, flustered. “Yes. How did you know who I am?”

“You’re all over the news,” she said. “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kallie said, reminding herself yet again that none of the publicity mattered even an ounce compared to making sure Hunter was okay. “So I can go and see him then?”

“Absolutely. He’s awake and he specifically asked for you this morning when he regained consciousness.”

Kallie felt her heart speed double. “He’s awake?” she said, gripping her purse.

“Yes. He’s been awake for a few hours, and—I have to say—he’s got a lot of energy for someone who’s been through what he’s been through.”

It was only just down the hall, and within seconds she was there. The door was ajar and she burst in, not caring what might be going on or who else might be in there.

She heard voices, but none of that mattered.

All that mattered was seeing him again, talking to him, loving him.

Hunter was propped up on a couple of pillows, and he was clearly awake when she came into the room.

There were two other men standing nearby, but she completely ignored them.

Hunter had been speaking, caught in midsentence when he saw her.

Their eyes met and he smiled at her, a hauntingly beautiful smile, and her breath caught in her chest. She ran across the small space and had to stop herself from jumping into his arms, because he was sick and terribly hurt and she couldn’t do any more than grab his hand and kiss it over and over again, and then kiss his lips tenderly.