Page 82 of Driven By Impulse

“Stop it, Bryce,” she shouted, uncertain and terrified, but determined. “Stop hurting her or I’ll shoot.”

“You don’t have the guts,” Iverson snarled. “You’ve always been weak, Grace. Weak and scared. That’s why you’ll never leave me.”

“You’re wrong!” Grace shouted. “This time, you’re wrong.”

She pulled the trigger.

Nicco’s ears rung and rung, far longer than the reverberation from the gunshot. His head was swimming and fuzzy and he wanted to fall asleep, but he knew in the back of his thoughts, that falling asleep would be the very worst idea. All through the last year, Nicco had wanted to slip into darkness and twice in one day he had fought the urge.

“Ash, please,” Hanna’s voice was pleading and desperate. “Oh, thank God, Nicco’s… He’s down here…”

Nicco heard Hanna like he was under the surface of the water, and she stood on the shore, but he clung to her voice. And then he clung to her hand, as soft feminine fingers wrapped around his. In the next second, Ash took his other hand, the rough skin so familiar and so warm.

“Nic, please,” Hanna begged. “We’re here. We’re right here. And we love you.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“You have to stay in bed.” Doc Royal was standing in the doorway of the hospital room as Ash pushed to his feet. “I’m not joking.”

“I need to see them,” Ash said. “I need to know they’re okay.”

“They’re fine.” Tori popped in behind Royal, a grin on her face. “Hanna’s beat up, for sure, a couple of bruised ribs and scrapes, but she’s already annoying her doctors.”

Ash swallowed. “And Nic.”

“He has a concussion,” Royal said directly. “It’s severe and we’re keeping him for observation, but we’re not concerned. He also has a bullet wound to his shoulder, but thankfully it was only a graze. I did say not to call me for flesh wounds.”

“I am worried,” Ash muttered.

“You are also injured,” Royal pointed out. “Or did you miss the matching bullet wound in your shoulder?”

“Also only a graze,” Ash said.

“No,” Royal replied. “It is not. Get back into bed.”

“Or what?” Ash asked. “You going to have the sheriff arrest me?”

“She’d probably like that,” Tori put in unhelpfully. “How about this? If you get back into bed, I’ll bring Hanna to see you, okay?”

Ash conceded, and a moment later, Tori returned with an irritated Hanna in a wheelchair.

“I told you I could walk,” Hanna muttered.

“And I told you you’re an idiot,” Tori replied.

“I happen to love idiots,” Ash said, looking at her. Hanna was alive. In front of him, battered, bruised, and covered in blood and dirt, but she was here and she was his.

“That’s my cue,” Tori teased and disappeared out of the door.

“You told him we loved him,” Ash said. “Both of us.”

Hanna gave him a weak smile. “We do. Don’t we?”

“We do.” Ash nodded. He could feel his throat tightening, the words getting caught in their enormity. “God, we really, really do.”

She pushed off from the wheelchair, and Tori had definitely been right, because she was moving very slowly as she settled at the foot of Ash’s bed. “I owe you an apology, Ash,” Hanna said quietly. “I was scared. Of admitting how I felt. Of…needing help. Of needing you.”

Ash reached for her hand. The knuckles were black and blue, and he dragged her hand to his mouth and kissed her softly. “I get you, Hanna,” he murmured. “I always have. I know you.”