Chapter 26
What had she done?
Morgan stared in horror at the blood on Chris' hand, then at the stain on Vin's side.
What had she done?
"Vin," she gasped, starting toward him.
He wasn't supposed to get hurt. He was supposed to be at work, or at home, or somewhere far away from her. Getting a reprieve from Morgan and the mess she was bringing into his life. She was trying to do what was best for everyone. They would all be better off without her. Vin wasn't supposed to get hurt.
She made it to his side, but before her hands made contact with him, he was stumbling back a step. Chris caught him securely by the arm.
"Buck," Chris said.
Buck was glaring at Vin hard enough she thought for sure Buck's look would knock Vin over before his injury would. Chris must have seen it, too, because his tone changed.
"Buck." Chris waited until Buck turned that look on him. "I ain't leavin' Sam alone like this."
Morgan looked over at Sam. She was slumped against Ezra on the porch step, Ezra looking worried.
"And I ain't leavin' her alone with him," Chris said darkly.
Buck looked at Sam. At Ezra. Then finally at Morgan. She didn't have anything left in her to toss her hair or lift an eyebrow in challenge at his look. Not with the way Vin was grimacing next to Chris, his face pinched in pain.
"I don't need to go nowhere," Vin said. But Chris and Buck didn't pay him any attention.
"Morgan needs…" Buck started, brow furrowed when he spoke to Chris.
"I'll take care of Morgan," Chris promised. "Just get Sam sobered up. Make sure she doesn't pass out on the lawn." He grunted slightly as Vin sagged against him. "We gotta go," he said.
Buck nodded once and backed away a step, like he was going to head over to Sam, but then he paused next to Morgan. He reached out a hand. Morgan braced herself, but his fingers just barely brushed the sleeve of her t-shirt before he quickly withdrew with nothing more than a concerned look. Without a word, he swung around and crossed the yard to Sam.
"Morgan," Chris said gruffly.
Morgan blinked. She quickly turned back to Buck and Vin.
Vin.
He was leaning heavily against Chris. Morgan moved toward him, but Chris jerked his chin toward the truck. "Get the door."
She hurried to the truck and wrenched the back door open.
She heard Vin behind her arguing with Chris, saying he was fine, he had just been nicked by a hoof, but she could see how difficult each movement was.
She stayed back just enough to let Chris help Vin up into the backseat of the truck before scrambling up after him. She finally got her hands on him.
His warmth was familiar. Reassuring.
"Here," Chris handed a sweatshirt from the front seat to her. "Put pressure on that."
Morgan nodded jerkily. She wadded up the fabric and pushed it into Vin's side, trying to figure out where the blood was coming from. When Vin let out a sharp hiss and flinched, she figured she had found the spot.
"Sorry," she said shakily. She wanted him to know she was sorry not just for hurting him with the pressure, but for everything that had led to this moment. Everything she was.
Vin had his eyes closed, but he shook his head slightly. "Ain't your fault."
Morgan almost let the harsh laugh of disbelief sob out of her. But instead she bit it back, choking on it. This was all her fault.
"Don't think that way," Vin said.
Morgan jerked her eyes to his. He had opened them, familiar blue looking at her. Had she said that out loud?
"What you're—" His words cut off on a groan when the truck hit a bump and jostled him. Morgan held back a groan of her own at his obvious pain. She adjusted the sweatshirt against his wound. "What you're thinkin'," Vin said. "Don't let your thoughts go there."
Morgan nodded. Not because she agreed with him, but because she wasn't about to say anything that would distress him any more.
"He's gonna be fine, Morgan," Chris said over his shoulder. "Just gonna get him checked out. Maybe a couple stitches and an x-ray or something."
Morgan didn't believe a word Chris said. Not with the speed he was going.
"You sure you didn't take a hit?" Vin asked. He shifted slightly, then sucked in a breath between his teeth. He settled back in, deep lines of pain in his face. "The baby's not hurt?"
Morgan spent her days pretending there was no baby. Hearing Vin say it so blunt had her recoiling. She gathered herself and put pressure on his side again. She kept her eyes fixed there and didn't answer. She wasn't supposed to still be standing. She was the one who was supposed to be bleeding under the hooves of the bull.
She clenched her teeth together. She had to hold it together for Vin.
The lights of the hospital spilled out through sliding doors. Chris pulled the truck into a parking spot near the building and came around, opening the back door of the truck.
Morgan slid out, wishing her knees didn't feel so weak at the sight of all the blood in the sweatshirt she was holding.
Vin made an effort to slide out. He wobbled and Chris got an arm under his arms. "Take it easy," Chris said.
Morgan followed after them, holding the bloodied sweatshirt uselessly in her hands.
The guy behind the registration desk inside the ER entrance looked up when they came in. He picked up a phone and spoke into it. Double doors behind the desk opened and a nurse came out. Her eyes moved from Vin, to Chris half holding him upright, to the blood on Morgan and the makeshift sweatshirt dressing. She got a wheelchair and pulled it up to Vin.
"Nah, I can walk," he said. But his words were tight, like he didn't quite have the breath to support them.
"Get in the damn chair," Chris said.
Vin's skin was taking on a sickly gray color. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Morgan wanted to shove him into the chair herself, but she was scared to touch him, now that she wasn't holding pressure on his gash. She had damaged him enough already.
"I don't…" Vin's jaw tightened and Morgan recognized it as an expression hiding shame, not pain, humiliation adding to the creases around his eyes. "I ain't got insurance."
"We'll deal with that," Chris said shortly. "Just do whatever the nurse says so you don't bleed all over their floor."
Morgan felt Vin's blood on her hands. It wasn't warm anymore. But it also wasn't starting to dry. There was too much of it for that.
She clenched her fists tighter in the sweatshirt.
"I can't. Morgan…"
Morgan jerked her eyes from the soaked shirt in her hands back to him. Why was he thinking of her? He was the one bleeding to death. She bit her lip, the pain grounding her.
"Morgan needs to get checked out," Vin said.
The nurse looked at Morgan and nodded. "We'll have a doc look at her."
"Check on the baby," Vin said, his words fading as he swayed slightly.
"We'll check on everyone," the nurse assured him. With a hand on his shoulder she finally managed to guide him down into the wheelchair. With him cooperative at last, she took advantage of that and wheeled him through the double doors quickly.
"Morgan," Chris called to her.
She stared at the doors.
"Morgan."
She turned back to Chris.
"What's this Tanner kid's birthday?"
Morgan felt her brow furrow. She shook her head, and Chris' eyes narrowed slightly.
"Full name?"
"Vin…Tanner," she fumbled, realizing she had no idea if he even had a middle name.
The registration clerk didn't bat an eye. "That's ok. We'll get the information from him when he's able. Why don't you have a seat?"
Chris nodded his head toward Morgan. "She needs to be seen."
Morgan took a step back automatically. Away from any doctor looking at her or…or talking about the…her condition.
"I'm fine," she said quickly, her heart in her throat.
"You almost got run down by a bull," Chris said. "You're getting looked over."
She started shaking her head, her breath catching.
"Morgan," he said, a warning in his voice.
She fought for even footing. "Chris," she countered, mimicking his tone. There. Something she had done a hundred times before. She even managed to toss her hair back over her shoulder with a hint of attitude.
The phone at the desk rang and the man behind the desk picked it up with a quiet hello.
"He's asking for his wife," the man said, interrupting the silent stand off between Chris and Morgan.
Morgan whirled toward the desk. The man pushed a button. With a click the double doors unlocked and swung open. The man stood. "I'll bring you back to him."
#
"Sam." Buck leaned down, trying to catch her eye.
Sam's eyes were closed. Again.
Buck blew out a breath. Being here with a drunk Sam Larabee, trying to keep her from passing out drunk without getting some fluids in her, was the last thing he wanted to be doing. Not when Morgan was—was—was pregnant and at the hospital. Was Chris going to make sure Morgan hadn't taken a hit, too? Or like that Vin character said, make sure he hadn't landed on her when he rolled her away from the bull?
"Officer Wilmington."
Ezra's voice jolted Buck from the worried trail his thoughts were traveling down.
Buck straightened up. He looked down at Sam, slumped in Chris' leather armchair.
"Do you have any other ideas?" Ezra asked mildly.
Buck frowned. He had managed to pour a sip of coffee into Sam, hoping to rouse her some, but she had batted him away with an uncoordinated hand. Same with a drink of water.
He looked over at Ezra. In spite of the young man's unconcerned tone, his eyes studied Sam with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He wanted to tell the younger man to hit the road, knew that was what he should do. But there was some sort of comfort in not being left alone with Sam and his worry over Morgan. Even if it was just a manipulative gambler who only looked out for himself keeping him company.
"You know anything about how much she had to drink?" Buck asked. Ezra had been with him, so it didn't seem likely. But Buck also knew Ezra had a way of knowing things that were going on, it made him a valuable CI. And Ezra was somehow linked to Vin and Morgan, so likely also Sam.
Ezra shook his head slightly. "I…" he hesitated, his mouth a grim line, before apparently deciding to say whatever it was he knew. "She was drinking this morning. I don't believe she stopped since."
Buck clamped down on the anger that reared. Sam was with Ezra this morning? Did that mean she had been with him last night?
Focus, Wilmington, he checked himself Now wasn't the time to deal with that. Ezra had given him what sounded like an honest answer. He couldn't afford to risk losing any future honesty with a knee-jerk retaliation.
"She was still standing when we got here." More or less. In a chair, but got her feet under her when Ezra hauled her out of harm's way. "We'll let her sleep it off. Watch to make sure she don't choke. Keeps breathing." He hated this. Hated that this was what Sam had done to herself.
Had he missed something? Chris had said Sam was in trouble for drinking at school. How had they missed how much she was really drinking?
Same way they missed Morgan getting pregnant with some kid they didn't know.
None of these thoughts were reassuring.
"You like football?" Buck asked.
Ezra shrugged noncommittally. "I like betting on football."
Buck grabbed the remote and flipped on the game. "Twenty bucks says the Broncos win by at least ten."
"Twenty it is." Ezra took a seat on the couch. Nearest the chair Sam was in, Buck noticed.
Buck took the chair on the other side of Sam. He slipped his phone from his pocket and checked for any texts he may have missed. Nothing from Chris. He kept his phone out and pretended to watch the game.
#
Vin held back a sound of pain when the doctor prodded at his wound again.
They had stripped him of his shirt and tied a hospital gown on him. He had an IV in each arm, fluids rapidly pumping into one of them, labs drawn, and—according to the doctor—would be on his way to CT soon to check and see if any organs had been hit.
He had tried to get the doctor to go out to the lobby and look at Morgan first. But the doctor had raised an eyebrow in question at the nurse and the nurse had said Vin needed to be seen first.
Finally, when Vin kept arguing, the doctor had told Vin she'd make sure to check on Morgan as soon as Vin wasn't bleeding out. She said she'd send a nurse out to triage her.
Vin reluctantly let them put him on the bed and start their poking and prodding.
Once it became clear the doctor wasn't going to look over Morgan until she dealt with him, he told the doctor the truth. Maybe that would speed things up. He was pretty sure it was the horn that had got him. Ripped his side clean open with the sharp tip, wielded by the angry bull. The hoof had just glanced off his back while he had shielded Morgan with his body. Though that bruise throbbed something fierce, too.
He looked again toward the door, wondering if Morgan really was hurt. If that's why she wasn't back here. The nurse said she had told the front desk to bring Morgan back when he wouldn't cooperate until he got Morgan near the doctor.
The door to his room slid open, the curtain pulled aside with the rattle of metal clips that held it to the track overhead.
Morgan's amber eyes searched him out immediately. Vin tried for a reassuring…well, grimace was the best he could come up with.
Morgan looked sick.
The nurse looked over and gave Morgan the reassuring look Vin couldn't. "He's going to be ok. We have to see how much damage there is to repair, but your cowboy's going to pull through."
Stark relief crossed Morgan's face like a wave.
"Gored by a bull, huh?" the nurse asked. "You've got a daredevil on your hands."
And just like that, any relief was gone.
"Gored?" Morgan repeated, her face stricken.
"Just nicked me," Vin said, ignoring the snort the doctor made.
"You get looked at yet?" Vin asked her.
"I don't need to," she said quickly.
"Did she get hurt?" the doctor asked, looking over her shoulder at Morgan.
"I knocked her down," Vin said. "When the bull was coming. She hit the ground hard."
The doctor nodded at the nurse to put a dressing on his wound and told her to call radiology to come get him.
"Did you hit your head? Lose consciousness?" the doctor started.
"No, nothing. I'm fine," came Morgan's predictable answer, the words coming out of her with a desperate pressure behind them. Vin wanted to get a hand on her, calm her.
The doctor eyed the blood soaked sweatshirt Morgan still held. The blood on the front of her shirt. Morgan looked down at it. "It's not mine." Then looked at Vin with those stricken eyes again. Her jaw twitched, fingers fidgeting rapidly with the bloodied shirt she held.
"She's expectin'," Vin said. He hated announcing Morgan's business like that. But what if something was wrong and she didn't know it? What if he had hurt the baby? Hurt Morgan?
The doctor nodded in understanding. "Why don't we just do a quick ultrasound. Take a look at baby?"
Morgan's face went white. Vin was pretty sure she stopped breathing.
"No," she whispered.
The doctor gave Morgan a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she walked past. "I'm sure everything's fine. I'll go get the ultrasound and we'll reassure both of you. We can get this done while your partner goes for his scan."
Vin pushed himself off the stretcher, nearly forgetting about the IV tubing that kept him tied to the pump. He maneuvered the tubing to get to Morgan's side. Ignored the dizziness when he stood and the piercing pain in his side. The fierce ache in his back.
"You don't have to look," he said. "I'll be right here. Right with you." He took the sweatshirt from her. Untwisted her fingers from it, and tossed it toward the trashcan.
Morgan's hand was icy in his when he took it.
The door opened and a man stood there with a wheelchair. "I'm here to take you for your CT scan."
"I ain't goin' yet," Vin said.
The man frowned. "It's marked as a STAT order."
Vin didn't care.
The sound of equipment being wheeled down the hall came closer and the door opened again. A nurse came in with the doctor. They both raised their eyebrows at Vin standing with Morgan.
"He said he's not supposed to go for his CT?" the man questioned the doctor.
Vin fixed his eyes on the doctor. He tried to straighten up slightly, hissing a breath in between his teeth when the knife pain in his side stopped him. She had been a reasonable enough woman so far. But he wasn't leaving Morgan to do this alone if the doctor got it in her head to start being unreasonable.
The doctor sighed slightly. "We're doing a quick ultrasound first. Do you have time to wait in the hallway?"
The man rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded. He closed the door behind him.
The nurse, a different one than the one who had convinced him to come back and get treated, guided him into a chair next to the bed and Morgan toward the bed.
Morgan planted her feet. Vin resisted the hand on his shoulder trying to push him into the chair.
"Morgan," he said in a quiet voice. He blinked slightly to clear his vision. The room was starting to spin a bit. He fixed his eyes on Morgan, ignoring the way the ground tilted beneath his feet. "Please. Let me know you're not hurt." He didn't mention the baby, but he was just as worried about anything being wrong with Morgan's little one.
Guilt darkened Morgan's eyes. He didn't want her to feel guilted. Or pressured. But before he could say that, Morgan clenched her jaw and gave in to the light push from the nurse on her back. She moved with jerky movements.
When the doctor lifted the hem of Morgan's oversized shirt, Morgan's fists clenched. Vin took her hand he could reach between his. He lowered his head close to hers and spoke softly in her ear. "You're ok. I'm with you."
The nurse eyed Vin's bandaged side and made a move to reinforce it. Vin ignored that, keeping his focus on Morgan.
Morgan's jaw was rigid, her eyes focused on the ceiling.
The doctor warned Morgan about the cold gel. Vin looked at Morgan's stomach. It was rounded. When they were together in bed, the lights were out. She had taken to wearing his t-shirts, oversized and baggy on her. But this was a clear sign of the pregnancy. A baby growing in her.
"How far along are you?" the doctor asked. Vin turned his attention back to Morgan. Gave her hand a light squeeze, that took more work than it should have, but his own hands were starting to feel a little shaky.
Morgan didn't answer.
They had been married a month, so Vin only knew that it was longer than that. He knew little about Morgan's assault. Only that she didn't want to feel held down when someone's hands were on her. And had ended up pregnant.
When Morgan didn't say anything, Vin answered. "We ain't pinned down an exact date yet."
The doctor nodded, moving the probe slightly and looking at the screen.
Vin's fingers started to tighten on Morgan's before he caught himself. He needed to be strong for her. Even if dots were starting to dance in front of his eyes.
He blinked, trying to clear his vision.
"There's baby," the doctor said.
Morgan's chin trembled. Her fingers twitched in Vin's grip. Vin looked at the screen the doctor tilted toward them.
He stared. A head of alien proportions was on top of a bloated belly. Arms and legs that were too scrawny moved around.
"Is it ok?" he asked the doctor.
Morgan cut her eyes to Vin. He wasn't sure if the fear there was for the baby.
"Just fine," the doctor said, removing the wand from Morgan's stomach and wiping the gel from her with a towel. "Everything is fine with both of them."
Morgan was pushing up to sitting before the doctor had moved away from her. Tugging her shirt down and shoving off the bed. "See? Fine," she said to Vin.
She looked anything but fine.
The doctor gave Vin a firm look. "CT scan."
Vin made a motion with his hand to wave off her suggestion. He wasn't leaving Morgan.
"That was the deal," the doctor said resolutely. "I examined your partner. Now we're taking care of you."
Vin started to shake his head again, but this time the room really started to spin with the movement.
"That's it," the doctor said. Vin was aware of the doctor ordering the man from the hallway back into the room. Hands propelling him up from the chair and into the bed. A slight thunk when the brakes were taken off, then he was wheeling through a hallway. The overhead lights spinning along above him didn't help his dizziness.
#
Morgan paced uneasily across Vin's room. She shifted her shoulders, wishing she could just shake the problems off with the movement. Shake off her mistakes. Go back in time and keep Vin from being anywhere near the bull. Be under its hooves herself.
She closed her eyes, thinking about what a relief it would be to be done with all this. To be away from the things there was no escaping. Vin's injury. Her attack. The baby.
She gripped the edge of the counter.
There was a light rap on the open door to the room.
Morgan whirled, ready to see the radiology tech bringing Vin back. Instead Chris stood there.
Morgan felt a muscle in her cheek tic. She cast her jumbled thoughts around, trying to find one that she should share. Something she should say to him.
"You need to get examined," Chris said.
"I did," Morgan said, the words coming out too sharp. Chris didn't react to her tone.
"Everything all right?" he asked.
No. She wanted to scream. She clenched her fists. Nothing was right. Not when Vin was torn apart—literally ripped open by a bull—because of her.
Chris looked around the room. He pulled the chair Vin had been seated in by the bed over to her and nodded toward it.
Morgan didn't want to sit. Chris didn't push.
"Vin?" Chris asked.
Hearing Chris say his name was jarring. Like two completely separate worlds that were never supposed to overlap were tangling. Two worlds that didn't belong together.
"CT scan," Morgan said.
Chris nodded. He didn't push for more information. Morgan started to pace. The room was too small. Hardly enough room for her to take more than four or five agitated strides before she had to turn back. She felt Chris' eyes on her. Knew he was looking at her stomach, trying to see evidence of what he and Buck now knew. But he didn't ask about it. And somehow that was worse. Him being nice just reinforced what she knew. She didn't deserve him. Didn't deserve Buck. Didn't deserve Sam.
Her stomach twisted painfully with guilt.
She was putting them through something they had never asked for. Not only didn't she deserve them, she was destroying them. The sight of Vin's blood on the discarded gauze and sweatshirt had her stomach lurching.
Morgan made it to the garbage can in time for her stomach to rebel against anything in it.
She leaned over, heaving into it.
Her eyes watered. The bile burned her throat.
When her stomach clenched, but nothing more came up, she stayed over the garbage, eyes and nose dripping, shoulders moving with every labored breath.
A paper towel was pressed against her hand. Morgan took it and cleaned her face. Chris handed her a paper cup of water. She swished it around her mouth before spitting it out into the garbage can.
"Better?" Chris asked when she straightened.
Morgan pressed her eyes closed. There was no such thing as better. Better would have been ending things, not hurting anymore.
Chris didn't press her. Maybe he saw something on her face that told him she didn't have an answer for him.
Chris nudged the chair towards her. This time Morgan sank into it. Chris took the seat next to her. They sat in silence, waiting on Vin to get back from his scan.
#