Pushing through the double doors, Slider came to a halt. Because the waiting room was absolutely packed. There was a sea of men in Ravens cuts, and dozens of other people besides. Dare and Bunny and Maverick and Alexa and Ben, sweet Ben, who ran into his arms as Slider lifted him to his chest and held him so damn tight.
“Sam’s sleeping,” he said to Ben, to everyone. “He’s doing okay.”
“No word on the girls,” Dare said, his voice like sandpaper, his whole demeanor like he was a breath away from being wrecked. And Slider got it, he really fucking did.
“I know,” Slider said. “But they’re gonna get through this.” They hugged each other then, two old friends sharing the same unbearable pain and facing the same impossible loss.
“Yes, they are,” Bunny said. “Those two are fighters. So don’t you do anything but plan how you’re going to take care of them when they’re out of here. That goes for both of you,” Bunny said, her eyes so glassy she was hard to look at. Because Slider was hanging on by a very thin thread.
But he nodded, appreciating the hell out of the sentiment, and praying to God with everything that he had that Bunny was right.
“Everything else is taken care of,” Maverick said, his eyes raw, blue fire.
Slider nodded, too gutted to care the way he should. “I know. Thank you for handling it.”
“Families of Cora Campbell and Haven Randall?” a woman’s voice called.
About fifty people stood up.
And, damn, how Cora would’ve loved seeing that. Please let me be able to tell her.
Slider and Dare rushed to where two doctors stood side by side, one woman and one man. A few others came with them, but Slider was too focused to care who heard the news as long as it was good.
“We’re all here for both of them,” Dare said. “Please just tell us.”
The woman started. “Haven’s surgery went entirely by the book. Her clavicle was broken, and we were able to repair it and the soft tissue around it. She’s in recovery and resting comfortably.”
Dare braced his hands against his knees. “Thank God,” he said. And Slider shared the sentiment down deep.
“And Cora?” he asked.
Nodding, the male doctor said, “They’re just finishing up now, but we knew we had a waiting room anxious to hear. All in all, she was very lucky. The most serious of the wounds were the two in her chest and abdomen. She suffered a broken rib and a punctured lung, which we were able to repair. The shot to her upper chest broke another rib and fractured her scapula, all of which we stabilized. The gunshot wounds on her arm were less serious, but we’ve repaired the damage as much as we can and have her on a course of antibiotics to treat for any infection. But we expect a full recovery.”
The room spun around Slider until he stumbled. Someone caught him, and someone else pulled Ben from his arms. “She’s okay?” he asked, his brain not quite grasping what he was hearing.
“She’s going to have a long road in front of her and she’ll need physical therapy on that arm and shoulder, but she’s going to be fine,” the doctor said. “And, oh, one more thing.” The doctor hesitated, and it nearly killed Slider. “Perhaps we should discuss this in private?”
“Say what you have to say, Doc,” Slider gritted out.
The man eyed their little group and nodded. “We detected trace HCG in Cora’s blood.” When Slider shook his head, the doctor elaborated. “The pregnancy hormone. The levels indicate it’s very new, maybe not even two weeks since conception.”
Slider went to his knees. Just flat-out went to his knees in wonder and thanks and sheer amazement. Cora was pregnant. Cora was pregnant . . . with his child.
“She’s okay?” he asked, looking up. The doctor nodded. “And she’s pregnant?”
“It appears so. But a lot depends on her condition over the next couple days,” he cautioned.
Slider nodded. He heard what the man was saying, and he got it. Still, he’d been so prepared for the worst that part of him couldn’t process the good news—or not want to embrace it even if it might be tenuous. “Jesus, thank you,” he said, hands clapping him on the shoulders. Someone held out a hand and helped him to his feet amid words of cautious celebration. “Can I see her?”
“As soon as she’s ready.”
It felt like an eternity, but finally someone called his name. “Mr. Evans, we can take you to see Cora now.”
Chapter 25
Slider nearly held his breath as he stepped up to Cora’s bedside. The joy of seeing her and knowing that she was alive was tarnished by knowing what she’d been through, and everything she would still have to go through. An oxygen mask rested on her face, and IVs protruded from her good arm. Little bandages covered a few places on the right side of her face, and a thick wad of gauze was wrapped around her left shoulder and arm, propped up on a set of pillows.