Understandable.

So I whispered, “Okay.”

“I’m lettin’ you go now. I’ll get him help but I want you callin’ me frequently, even if you’re just drivin’. Got me?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Good. Get in the truck, mama.”

“Ty?” I called.

“Baby, get in the truck.”

I ignored him and whispered, “I killed Fuller.”

Silence then, gently, “Mama, please, f**k, get in the truck.”

“Okay.” I was still whispering.

“Okay,” my husband whispered back.

Then he was gone.

I went to the truck that I’d left idling, blasted the heat and searched it. I found a first aid kit and two blankets. Rifling through it, I found it was a regular first aid kit, nothing to help with a bleeding gunshot wound.

I grabbed the blankets, ran back to Irv and did my best to wrap him as tight as I could with blanket one then covered him with blanket two, tucking him tight all around. He moaned a couple of times while I did this but didn’t regain consciousness. Still, moans were good. Moans meant alive. I’d take moans.

Then I bent, kissed his cheek quickly, whispered in his ear, “Thank you, hold tight, stay alive and we’ll get you help as soon as we can.”

Then, belatedly, though I’d never f**king tell Ty in a million f**king years that I had delayed, I ran to the truck, jumped in, closed the doors, locked them, put that f**ker in gear and raced the f**k away.

* * * * *

Ty

His phone rang, it was in his hand, he hadn’t had a call from his wife for twenty f**king minutes so he flipped it open without looking at his display and said, “Talk.”

“Tate,” he heard. “Aspen Valley Hospital. Both your father and Lexie are here. He’s in surgery, she’s getting checked over.”

“Right,” Ty said, his heart, lungs and gut not loosening even a little.

“How far out are you?” Tate asked.

He looked at his speedometer. Then he looked in the rearview mirror and saw the highway patrolman who had been on his ass but keeping a distance for the last hour and a half.

Then he said to Tate, “Half an hour.”

“Okay, brother,” Tate said quietly. “Quick brief. You need this now and you need to keep yourself safe drivin’ that f**kin’ car while I tell it to you. Then you need to process it. Then you need to bury it because you gotta have your shit together when you get here. This was all about you but now it isn’t. Now, you gotta look after your wife.”

“Tate –” Ty growled.

Tate didn’t delay. “I’ve seen Lexie. She’s got some bruises, she’s trembling like a motherfucker, scrapes from a dash through the forest and Fuller clocked her with a gun butt so looks like you two’ll have matchin’ scars.”

Fuck, f**k, f**king motherfucker.

Tate kept going. “They’re worried about shock. She killed that f**kwad and no matter why she did it and she had no choice, she is freaking out. Her drama that she endured probably isn’t helping. Seein’ your Dad the way he was also isn’t helping. She’s a f**kin’ mess. I got Laurie on gettin’ to your house and gettin’ her some clothes. She’s all over it.”

“Right,” Ty bit off.

Silence then, cautiously, “Okay, now, your father came in flatline.”

Ty stared at the road but his hand on the steering wheel tightened.

Tate continued, “They shocked him, got a weak heartbeat, rushed him into surgery. But, brother, that is not lookin’ good.”

“Right,” Ty whispered.

“Maggie is goin’ to Reece as we speak.”

“Right,” Ty repeated on a whisper.

“Keaton is locating your brother.”

Ty didn’t respond.

Silence then, quietly, “Where’s your head?”

“I’m good.”

Again quietly he got, “Good. See you in half an hour.”

“Right.”

Then he flipped his phone closed.

Then he made a one hour journey in half an hour.

* * * * *

Angel

Angel Peña opened his eyes and felt someone in the room.

He didn’t turn his head because, no matter the f**king painkillers they were pumping into him, he’d learned movement didn’t feel too good.

So he shifted his eyes and saw Ty Walker standing three feet away.

Fuck him.

He shifted his eyes further and saw Lexie asleep in an armchair, knees to her chest, the arm that had been holding them had fallen so her hand was at her ankle, her head was turned, chin tucked in, cheek to the back of the chair.

But she had a black eye and a thin strip of white holding together an angry, red and purple gash.

His eyes went back to Ty who had moved to the side of the bed.

“Shift?” he asked and his voice was a harsh rasp. This was mostly because he hadn’t used it much. It was also because the day before they’d yanked the tube that had been down his throat for four days.

Ty shook his head and answered, “Fuller.”

He forgot not to move and his eyebrows shot up.

Good news. That didn’t hurt. Maybe he was getting better.

“Fuller?”

“Lost his shit, kidnapped my wife, took her to a hunting cabin for reasons we’ll never know, got her with the butt of my gun before my Dad stormed in. Lexie got away but tagged my gun before she went. Dad took a bullet to the chest. He died twice but now he’s in better shape than you. Fuller went after her. On a cliff in a nightgown, Lexie drilled him with six. He’s very dead. She’s very alive.” He paused, held Angel’s eyes and whispered, “Now back to sunshine.”

Angel tried another movement and found it didn’t hurt to smile.

Then he heard, “Angel?”

His eyes shifted again to watch Lexie folding out of the chair.

Shit, but only Lexie Walker could have a black eye and an angry gash on her eyebrow and still look beautiful.

She moved to him and Ty shifted slightly so Lexie could get in there and she did, immediately curling her fingers around his hand.

Her blue-gray eyes held his. “How are you, honey?”

He held her blue-gray eyes, they were warm, concerned, searching and he felt her lightly squeeze his hand.

That was all he was ever going to get. All he was ever going to get from Lexie Walker.

And he’d take it.

“Better now,” he answered then she proved him wrong.

She gave him a bright smile and her light shone down on him, bright, blinding, beautiful.