Page 53 of A Burning Rage

“Tyler shot him. Andrew was about to take another shot at Beth when Tyler fired three rounds into his chest.”

“Seriously? Andrew’s dead?”

“Yep.”

A wave of relief floods through me. Andrew can’t ever hurt Beth again.

A soft sound alerts me to the fact Beth’s awake. As I glance over at her, she’s sitting upright on the recliner. The smile she gives me is everything.

She’s safe.

That’s all that matters.

I can’t take my eyes off of her, and her gaze is locked on mine. There’s so much we need to talk about, so much we need to say.

Before I can ask her anything, a nurse comes in to check on me, followed by a physician, who introduces herself as Dr. Markowski. She says she’s pleased with the progress I’m making.

“Today, we’ll see how you do with water. Tomorrow morning, we’ll try you on a clear liquid diet.”

I shift my position, wincing at the pain.

“Try not to move,” the doctor says. “We don’t want those sutures coming loose. Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. When can you remove the catheter?”

She chuckles. “Not just yet.”

When Cooper returns to the room, he’s not alone. My parents follow him in.

Mom sucks in a breath when she sees me and immediately bursts into tears.

My dad pulls her into his arms. “It’s okay, Bridge. The boy’s going to be okay.”

The boy? I smile. I’m thirty-eight years old, hardly a boy.

I notice Cooper having a quiet conversation with Beth as he hands her a carry-out box. “Grilled chicken nuggets and some mashed potatoes.” He hands her a coffee cup. “Decaf caramel vanilla.”

“Thanks.” She takes the box from him, sits on the sofa, and begins picking at the food.

When Beth is anxious, she loses her appetite. I’m sure the past couple of days have been harrowing for her.

Throughout the day, my siblings come to see me, one at a time. My brothers are stoic, cracking jokes about me trying to hog all the attention and get out of work. My sisters, at least two of them, try not to cry as they tell me how much they love me.

Lia and Jonah walk into my room, and the first words out of my youngest sister’s mouth do not disappoint. “Such a drama queen.” She rolls her eyes. “Are you done now?”

I’m exhausted after visiting with my family. After everyone is gone, Beth turns down the lights and sits beside my bed, holding my hand. I still feel sluggish, my limbs heavy and not cooperating. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.

“Go to sleep,” Beth says, and then she leans close and kisses my forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“First, I need you to tell me something.” My memories are still spotty. I remember bits and pieces, images mostly, and sounds.

“Anything. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what happened. Cooper gave me the short version, but I want to hear it from you. I remember getting out of the car and walking around to the passenger side. I remember seeing Andrew get out of his father’s car. I was running and yelling. That’s all I can remember.”

She squeezes my hand. “The Mortons were parked three spots away from our car. As I opened my car door and stepped out, Andrew got out of the back seat of his father’s car. He pulled a gun and pointed it at me. He yelled something at me—something about him making me pay for ruining his life. You came around the back of the car, saw him, and yelled no. You told him to drop the gun, and when he didn’t, you stepped between us.”

Beth stares into my eyes, her own tearing up. “You saved my life, Shane. He fired and hit you instead.”