Page 75 of When the Smoke Clears

A laugh bubbles up from her chest, but her eyes soon glisten with fresh tears. “I was so scared.”

I nod, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I know. But I’m going to be fine, and we are going to find the person behind this.”

“I believe you.”

“Being in this hospital must be hard for you. I’m sorry for making you worry.”

She shakes her head vehemently, sniffling as she tries to keep her emotions in check. “This isn’t about me, Luke. I thought you were going to die.”

Offering a faint smile, I reply, “I’m alive.”

“How’s your family taking this?”

“About how you’d expect. My father’s ready to get everyone fired.” I shake my head. “He blames this whole mess on my job. You know the speech—if only I worked for him, everything would be perfect.”

“They all love you so much,” Isla says, her thumb gently tracing circles on the back of my hand. “Where is everyone? I expected a big, raucous party when we walked in.”

“They’re giving blood,” I explain. “Eden’s keeping them occupied, distracting them so we can have this conversation.”

My thumb burns a path across her skin. “Stop worrying about me.”

A laugh dies in her throat. “You nearly died, Luke. Don’t you dare tell me not to worry.”

The room collapses to nothing but the violent rhythm of the monitor and the thundering of blood in my ears.

Suddenly, Isla lunges forward. Her mouth collides with mine.

Fire explodes between us, consuming everything.

When her lips part, I consume her like a drowning man breaking the surface for air. Something inside me shatters—a dam bursting, flooding every hollow space.

Grief and terror and hunger collide, a violent supernova in my chest. My fingers carve into her neck, dragging her against me until there’s nothing between us but heartbeats. She yields completely.

The kiss devours us both. When Isla finally tears away, her pupils have swallowed her irises whole, her breath coming in ragged gasps that match my own.

If I flatline right now, at least the last thing I tasted was her. Part of me thinks that’s the closest thing to peace I’ve earned.

A loud noise breaks through the moment, and Isla jumps back as Gabe re-enters the room. He’s completely unaware of the moment he’s interrupting as he drags the other chair over to my bedside, the legs scraping against the linoleum floor.

He drops into the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me what you remember from the shooting.”

I take a deep, steadying breath, letting it fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. The scene replays in my head whether I want it to or not.

“It seemed like a routine traffic stop. Big van, like one of those painter-style ones. The driver was weaving, and I was worried it was a DUI. Kids were walking to school at that time.” He takes a deep breath. “But something felt off the second I pulled up. It was too quiet. The driver didn’t roll down the window, didn’t get out to argue. Nothing.”

Gabe leans forward.

“I approached the passenger side. The sliding door was cracked open just enough for the muzzle of a gun to fit through. I spotted it at the last second, but before I could react, there was a flash, and pain ripped straight through my shoulder.”

He swallows.

“I hit the ground before my brain even caught up. Face in the dirt, gravel in my teeth, lungs full of gunpowder.”

“Did you see the driver?” Gabe asks.

I shake my head. “Never got a chance.”

“I managed to tap my comm three times short, three fast, three short for SOS. I knew backup would come. I remember the van tearing off before everything went black.”