Page 82 of The Heartbreaker (Chandler Brothers 3)
Because he’d left her alone, putting her in harm’s way, he might not have the chance to tell her that he was sorry. That he really did love her. That he didn’t want to lose her.
Yet, what did that mean for the future he’d envisioned? The one without family or responsibilities. He shook his head, his own desires mocking him, as his mother provided enough responsibility and would continue to, even if she married Eric. Old habits died hard. He’d never be completely free of his responsibilities.
Nor, he was coming to realize, did he want to be. The one thing he didn’t want was to end up old and alone. And if Sloane died, that’s exactly where he would be.
Chapter Sixteen
A shoulder wound. The bullet had passed clean through, or at least that’s what Chase thought he heard an emergency-room doctor say. Needing confirmation, he walked over to a fresh-out-of-med-school-looking guy and tapped him on the shoulder. “Excuse me. I need to see Sloane Carlisle.”
“She’s with the doctor,” he said without glancing up.
But that doctor wasn’t Eric, Chase thought, because he hadn’t arrived yet. “How is she? Last time I saw her, she was unconscious and there was too much blood.” He involuntarily trembled at the memory.
“Are you family?” the guy in green scrubs asked, barely glancing up from his chart. “Because I can release patient details only to family.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m family,” Chase muttered, the lie slipping too easily off his tongue.
In reality, he had no claim on Sloane other than a sudden overwhelming desire to possess her as his own, and to never let go.
“You’re her … brother?” the young resident asked, hazarding a guess as he finally looked up.
Stupidly, Chase shook his head no because he wanted to say he was her husband. He couldn’t. There were too many people in this hospital who knew him, knew his background, knew how proudly he’d always touted his bachelor status. Especially once he’d become the last remaining single Chandler man.
The resident met Chase’s gaze, compassion filling his eyes. “Okay, buddy, you want to get in to see your girlfriend. I get it. But not until she’s conscious and can okay your visit.” He patted Chase’s shoulder in what must be his best practiced bedside manner. “I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Chase turned away, pissed at the other man but mostly at himself.
As a journalist, he’d often fudged his status to get closer to a story, admittedly not possible that often in a town that knew everyone’s business. But he’d had no compunction doing it when he could. Yet with Sloane lying in the other room, her status unknown, he could barely think enough to hold himself together and get in to see her. Some hotshot reporter he turned out to be, unable to get near the most important person in his life.
His heart was pounding double time and adrenaline raced through his veins, making him forget common sense and reason. Which cemented his feelings. As if he’d had any doubt. He didn’t. Not anymore. He had no doubt about how he felt and what he wanted—Sloane, in his life forever. But he’d start with seeing her open those gorgeous eyes.
Glancing at the clock, he realized only ten minutes had passed since he’d followed the ambulance to the hospital, feeling useless and more frightened than he ever remembered being. Including when he’d been eighteen and his father had passed away, leaving him as the man of the house and completely unprepared for all that status had entailed.
Chase groaned. Ten minutes wasn’t nearly enough time for the doctors to really patch up Sloane. It wasn’t enough time for Rick to drag the suspect’s sorry ass down to the station and see to it he was processed correctly. But Rick had in fact captured the man, gun in hand, tackling him on the neighbor’s property before he could make it to his truck, which he’d left on the corner. At least Chase could trust his brother to take care of police business.
In the meantime, he forced himself to sit in a chair near the emergency-room doors through which they’d wheeled Sloane earlier. Forced himself, through gritted teeth, to wait for Eric instead of barging into the ER and demanding answers and the right to see Sloane. Something Chase couldn’t do until Eric arrived and helped him get past hospital security and restrictions.
Suddenly the double doors swung wide and a woman doctor strolled through. Chase recognized her as the one who’d taken charge of Sloane from the minute the ambulance drivers unloaded her stretcher.
He jumped up from his seat. “How is she?”
The doctor eyed him, a combination of wariness and compassion in her professional gaze. “Stable,” she said, as if she weren’t sure whether to trust him with the information. “She’s groggy, but she wants to see her father.”
