She stepped back. “Now I need to get back to Trace.” She’d been away from him too long already. Skye skirted around the police chief.
“I’m…very sorry, ma’am,” he called.
Her fingers hesitated above the door.
“The doctors briefed me on Weston’s injuries. I understand that he…he—”
Her spine snapped straight. “You don’t know anything about Trace Weston. Neither do they. But I know plenty.” She faced him. “He’s the strongest man I know. And he’s a man who keeps his promises. Trace isn’t going to leave me. He’s going to wake up. He’s going to open his eyes any time.” That was why she had to be there. “And he’s going to make a full recovery.”
The pity flashed in his eyes again. She hated that pity. She wouldn’t look at it anymore. She left the chief, hurrying from the room and running back to the only man who mattered to her.
***
She was only supposed to stay with Trace for fifteen minutes at a time. That was the rule in the ICU.
Skye was breaking their rules, and the doctors hadn’t tried to throw her out yet. Maybe they were afraid of the Weston name. Of the Weston money.
Or maybe…maybe they just had pity in their eyes, too, when they looked at her.
She stood by his bed. Stroked his fingers. They’d told her that machines were keeping him alive.
Skye wouldn’t believe that. He was alive.
His skin wasn’t warm to the touch, it was cool, too cold. So was hers. She rubbed his fingers, trying to force warmth back into him and wishing that she could be the one in that bed.
But she was there, at his side, helpless.
“Is this how you felt?” Skye asked him. “When I was taken and you were left behind, did you feel like this? Like you were being ripped apart, like you were losing your life…and there was nothing you could do but stand there and watch it all fall away?”
He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. A tube was shoved down his throat. He couldn’t breathe on his own. They’d operated on him—three times. He hadn’t regained consciousness since the EMTs had hauled him out of that apartment.
It looked like something out of a horror movie.
“There’s no one for me to fight.” Her voice had gone hoarse. From the tears? Or from all the hours she’d talked to him?
Skye hadn’t slept. She couldn’t.
“I want to hurt the man who did this to you, but he’s gone.” And she was there. Holding him. “I need to confess something to you.”
She heard the rustle of the curtain behind her.
Skye didn’t look away from Trace.
“I would have killed Reese for you. I would have killed anyone to protect you.” She swallowed, trying to ease the ache in her throat so that she could keep talking. “I was never afraid of the darkness that you carried. Because inside, I’ve got that same darkness. I think…I think I just hide it better than you do.”
She hid her true self from everyone, but him.
“I would’ve killed them. I would’ve done anything for you.” Her hand lifted. She brushed her fingers over his still cheek. “I still will. I’ll do anything, Trace, just please, please come back to me. Because there is one thing I can’t do…I can’t live without you.” She didn’t want to try.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Skye.”
Alex’s voice. He’d heard her confession. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but Trace.
“Has there been any change?” Alex asked her.
Her fingers slid back down to hold Trace’s hand. “Not yet. But there will be. He’s coming back to me.”
Alex’s hand fell away from her. “I heard that…” He cleared his throat. “I heard that Claire Kramer and Drake Archer will be discharged soon.”
Skye nodded. “That’s good.” They’d healed. Trace would, too.
“Noah York is improving. He lost a lot of blood, so the docs aren’t ready to release him yet.” Alex paused. “Noah said that Weston saved his life, and Claire…she said you are the only reason she’s still here.”
She still didn’t look away from Trace. She just needed him to open his eyes. Once he opened his eyes, everything would be all right.
“I saw Reese following me when I left the station. I’d thought that Weston sent him after me.”
She slipped her fingers over Trace’s knuckles. Her engagement ring gleamed up at her. “You always think the worst of Trace.”
“I thought he’d killed Parker because he loved you and wanted you safe.” Alex cleared his throat. “But we found evidence at Reese’s place. Photos. He’d been following Parker. Meeting with him.”
“I guess they both wanted the same thing,” Skye whispered. “To destroy Trace.”
“Reese was…involved with Sara. We showed one of Sara’s neighbors a picture of him, and the neighbor confirmed that he’d been there to visit her several times.”
“He was just using her. He used her, and he killed her.” And Skye had trusted him.
When you put your trust in the wrong person, you opened yourself up for all kinds of hurt.
Skye didn’t think it was possible to hurt more than she did then.
“What I don’t understand…” Alex’s shoulder brushed against hers. “What I don’t understand is why I didn’t get killed, too. He had me. Reese knocked me out. He could’ve killed me at any point.”
Skye blinked at that. Finally, she pulled her gaze off Trace. Focused on the detective. “He didn’t kill you because you were going to be the killer.”
Alex’s brows rose.
“Anna Jean named you…she said that you’d come to find her in Atlanta. She was tossing you out to us all, setting you up as the killer.” Lying so easily. “Then Trace ran over to Reese’s place because Reese called and said that you were watching him.”
“I—”
“It was your gun that Reese used to shoot Trace, wasn’t it?”
He nodded.
That was what she’d thought. “You would’ve been killed, eventually. At the right time—a time that would match up with whatever scenario Reese planned to spin to the authorities. He would’ve killed you, no doubt with Trace’s gun. That way, everything would end tied up nicely. You went after the killer—you shot Trace, but not before he fatally ended you.”