Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 36

36

Ry

" I ’m fine,” she said, her tone growing in impatience. This was the ninth or tenth time she’d said the same thing in the past hour. “The doctor said so.”

Ry tightened his grip on her hand—the one that didn’t have an IV line stuck on the back. He forced himself to take a deep breath. The doctor had said Isla was going to be fine. He’d also said a lot of other things, about her levels of dehydration, and the bruises on her body … things that made Ry wish he’d killed Getty instead of knocking him out.

“You’re thinking about him again,” she said, squeezing his hand. Her tone held understanding, but no condemnation.

“I’m sorry,” Ry said. “Are you sure you’re not in pain?”

“I’m fine. Can you please go see Hugo and Laura?”

Ry had been to see Hugo and Laura, multiple times in the last twenty-four hours, since they’d arrived in the hospital. He couldn’t believe it was night-time again. He’d caught a few naps, here or there, but sleep was a commodity he wasn’t sure he believed in anymore. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stretched out on his bed.

Because Val was a doctor at the hospital, Ry had been able to get real-time updates from her, so he knew Laura was doing better and resting comfortably. The pressure in her skull, which had worried the neurologist at first, had been released, and her condition had stabilized. The doctor was confident that she was out of immediate danger and that she’d wake up on her own when she was ready. It was the most anyone could have asked for, after what she’d been through. Her family had come up from Brussels and was with her now. Ry had met her parents, but they kept asking about Hugo, and he didn’t know what to say to them. He might never walk again didn’t seem to be what they needed to hear.

“If you’re sure,” he said. Isla nodded, but still Ry hesitated. And he understood that this fear of leaving her alone was on him—something he was going to have to come to terms with. He stood up, his cracked ribs protesting. “I’ll be right back,” he said, giving Isla a kiss on the forehead, one of the few parts of her body that wasn’t bruised.

He walked down the stairs, heading straight to the first floor waiting room. He hadn’t yet told Isla that Hugo was in surgery again. Last night, the doctors had hesitated to perform the high-risk surgery to remove the bullet when they’d seen how tightly it was lodged against his spinal column. But today, after consulting a team of specialists from all over the world, it’d been determined that, for a man of Hugo’s age and fitness level, the risk of leaving it inside was greater. One of the specialists consulted, a surgeon at Paris’s famous H?pital Saint Louis, had traveled to perform the surgery herself.

Ry forced a deep breath into his lungs, realizing he’d stopped breathing. He felt the weight of responsibility pressing on him. This was killing him. Hugo was his friend, his teammate. He’d risked everything to get Isla and Laura back. And now, Ry was torn between the absolute relief that Isla was safe, and that Laura was healing, and the fear that Hugo wouldn’t recover. Because Hugo was going to live, but Ry didn’t know what kind of life this would be for him, if he couldn’t walk again.

Exhaustion settled over him as he pushed the door open to the waiting room. Every time he came down here, there were more people in the room. People who cared about them. The entire team was here, of course—Beau, Alex, Tristan, and Lorenz. Yvette sat next to Alex, their hands intertwined. She rushed up as soon as she saw him. Ry swallowed hard through the lump in his throat, knowing he was close to making a fool of himself.

“Yvette,” Ry said, leaning down to hug her. She must have come straight from work.

“How are Isla and Laura doing?” Yvette asked. By now, the rest of the group surrounded him. His team, but also colleagues from their sibling PGHM unit. Damien, their leader, was there, sitting next to Beau. Drake, Damien’s second-in-command, who Ry knew was Hugo’s good friend and sometimes sparring partner, with his wife, Isolde, who was one of the psychologists at the station. Ry’s gaze stuck for a long instant on Kat, their pilot. Luc, her fiancé, who was in a wheelchair, wasn’t with her. He must have stayed home with their babies. Knowing Luc, he wouldn’t have wanted his wheelchair to serve as a reminder of what was at stake for Hugo.

Ry updated everyone quickly on what he knew, then asked his own question. “How’s the surgery going?”

It was Beau who answered. “Valentina came out a little while ago and told us he’s out of surgery and in the recovery room. The lead surgeon will be here to update us soon.”

“Did they get—“ The words stuck in his tongue, but he pushed them through. “Did they get the bullet out?” He felt the world around him start to spin, the heavy fluorescent lights overhead growing dimmer.

“Sit down, Ry,” Yvette said, taking him gently by the hand. “Head between your legs.” Ry swallowed back a groan as his rib muscles contracted, but the position helped. Slowly, the stars behind his eyes dissipated.

“I’ll bring a coffee,” a voice said.

“No more coffee. Bring him some water.”

He took the cup of lukewarm water someone placed in his hand and sipped. “I’m okay,” he said. He didn’t want people fawning over him, when he was fine, but Hugo wasn’t. It should be the other way around , a rough voice inside him whispered. If anybody had to pay such a hefty price, it should have been Ry, and not Hugo, to pay it. But that wasn’t the way the world worked. And there was no going back in time. All they could do was move forward.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the surgeon stepped into the waiting room, still in scrubs, her face etched with exhaustion. If she was surprised when she asked for Hugo’s immediate family and they all stepped forward, she didn’t say anything. Val stood next to her quietly.

“The surgery was complicated,” the surgeon began, her voice measured. Ry held his breath. If this was bad news … Stop it . He forced himself to keep listening. “We removed the bullet, but there were some challenges with the surrounding tissue. There’s still a risk of infection, and we’re monitoring him closely for any sign of nerve damage.” Ry heard what the doctor wasn’t saying. She wasn’t saying Hugo was going to walk again. But she’s not saying he isn’t, either .

“We have to wait,” Val said, as if reading Ry’s mind. She reached over and squeezed his hand gently. “He’s waking up now. Would you like to see him, Ry?”

Ry nodded, swallowing back a sob as he followed the doctors through the doors into the restricted area.

“In here. You have five minutes, okay? And don’t tire him,” Valentina instructed.

Hugo’s eyes were closed when Ry let himself into the room. Lying on his side on the white hospital bed, with tubes and monitors tracing across his body like a network of wires, he looked pale and frail. It felt wrong, when Hugo was always so strong. But he was alive, Ry reminded himself. And that had to count for something.

Hugo’s eyes opened. “Ry. I was hoping it’d be you,” he said, his voice raspy.

“Hey, mate.” Ry pulled a plastic chair up to the bed. He eyed the glass and the straw on the night table. “Would you like some water?”

Hugo shook his head, his expression taking on a grimace that he quickly erased. “How are Isla and Laura?” Of course, that would be the first thing he’d ask about.

“Laura is doing better. She’s stable, and the neurologist is optimistic she’ll make a full recovery.”

A hint of relief crossed Hugo’s eyes. “That’s good. And Isla?”

“Isla’s physically okay.” He wondered whether to tell his friend the truth or keep it from him, then decided to be honest with him. “I’m worried about what Getty did to her. She’s still not talking about it much.”

“Give her time. Let her know you’re there for her.”

Ry nodded, sitting down on the hard plastic chair beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I took a hit.” Hugo tried to smile, but his face was etched in pain.

“Are you in pain?”

Hugo shook his head. “I think they’re pumping me full of the good stuff.” He paused for a long instant. “They got the bullet out, though they still don’t know what that means.”

“I know.” Ry’s Adam’s apple moved up and down, but there was no getting rid of the ball in his throat. “I’m sorry, Hugo. So damn sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“I wish …” He couldn’t even finish the thought.

“It’s okay, Ry. I’ve had some time to think. Whatever happens, it was worth it.”

This time, Ry didn’t bother hiding the tears that rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t know what to say. They wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. I owe you everything.”

Hugo frowned. “Stop. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I love her, Hugo.”

“Shit, I know you do. We’ve all known that for some time.” Hugo sank back further into the pillow. Whatever he said about the drugs being pumped into his system, he was in pain. “You should go tell her. And get some sleep. You look like shit.”

Isla

Isla looked at her watch impatiently. They’d said the doctor would be back to sign her release papers, but that was hours ago, and so far, nobody had come in. She was sitting in the room’s single armchair, so ready to go. If only somebody would come and take her IV out.

But she wasn’t about to complain. The nurses had wheeled her in to see Laura earlier that morning, and her friend had been awake for the first time. So, Isla wasn’t going to complain about anything—maybe ever again.

“You’re dressed already,” Ry said, popping his head into the room. “How are you feeling?” He’d gone home in the early morning to shower and change but, judging by the black circles under his eyes, he hadn’t bothered to take a nap. She wondered when the last time he’d slept was.

“How’s Hugo?” Ry had told her about the surgery the night before— after it had taken place. And she understood—he was worried about her, she could read it in his eyes, so he didn’t want to worry her. But he didn’t realize that she had to worry about Hugo and Laura. That she would only be okay once she knew they were okay.

She wasn’t that interested in Miles Getty’s future. Back on the mountain, he’d been loaded—still unconscious—onto a separate helicopter. That , she was grateful for. She didn’t think she could have managed, locked in the same enclosed space together with that man again. She knew—or believed, anyway—that Getty would go to prison for what he’d done. For what he’d tried to do. Because there was no doubt in her mind that he would have killed her and Laura, just like he’d killed Richard.

As Ry kneeled in front of her, she got a glimpse of his torn knuckles, which were starting to heal. She would heal, too. It was just going to take a bit of time. Because every time she closed her eyes, she was back in that freezing basement, watching her best friend fade away, feeling afraid and weak and powerless. The feeling receded somewhat when she was awake, but it was still there, in the back of her mind, a gnawing thought she couldn’t get rid of. She didn’t want to feel powerless ever again.

“He’s resting.” Ry took a deep breath before continuing. “They got the bullet out. The doctor is moderately optimistic about the outcome of the surgery, but we won’t know for sure until the swelling goes down.”

“We won’t know if he will ever walk again,” Isla said. She didn’t want him to cushion the blow for her.

“Yes.” Ry’s brows were furrowed in pain. Isla took his hand in hers. She knew he had feelings for her—not just because he’d gone to the end of the world to find her, risking his own life to do so, but because of the way he looked at her. The same way she imagined she looked at him. And yet, there was so much they were hiding from each other. This wasn’t good. She didn’t want this. “He didn’t rape me,” she said, suddenly. Ry didn’t even breathe, but his hand tightened around hers, giving her strength. “He said he was going to. He hurt me, and said—terrible things. But he didn’t rape me.” Her voice cracked. “And I don’t know if you want to hear this, or if you think I should be talking to?—“

His arms came around her, enveloping in the safest hug. “I want to hear everything that happened, Isla. Everything you felt. And that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t also talk to a professional, but it does mean I’m here for you, every step of the way. There is nothing you can’t tell me.” His expression went bleak. “And if you blame me for what happened, Isla, I … I understand. Getty kidnapped you because of me. I’m to blame for what happened to you and Laura.”

Isla laughed out loud, his mouth curling up in surprise. “What? Are you crazy?”

“I just … I don’t want you to think you have to shield me from that. If you’re angry at me, I …”

“Ry. I’m not angry. Laura’s not going to be angry, either. We don’t blame anyone except for Getty.” She held on to him tighter.

“Are you sure?” He sounded so hopeful now, but then shook himself. “Then tell me what you were going to say, Isla. Please.”

The words came out before she could stop herself. “The things he said… I’m … I’m still afraid. And I know it’s crazy, because he’s not here, but every time I close my eyes, I still see him.”

Ry’s face paled further, but he didn’t say anything for the longest time. Just squeezed her hands tight. “Thank you for telling me, Isla. At times, I … I wish I’d killed him,” he confessed. “But he’s going to prison. He will not hurt you, or anybody else, ever again. And I’m here.”

Isla nodded. “I think … it’s just going to take some time to process.”

“I’m here, Isla. Whatever you need, however long it takes … I’m here with you.”

The door opened, and a nurse came in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Ry on his knees in front of Isla. “Oh. I could come back later.”

“No!” Isla said, quickly pulling back her hand. “ Please don’t go. It’s not what it looks like. I’m ready to get out of here!” She shot Ry an apologetic smile, but he remained frozen on his knees, a thoughtful expression on his face.