Page 76 of March 5
Maybe because she was shaking.
Maybe because tears rolled down her cheeks.
Maybe because, at any moment, she felt like she was going to die if he gave her bad news.
"I removed the two bullets that ricocheted during..." The doctor swallowed heavily. "Target practice."
That was the story Jagger gave the hospital? Skye leaned forward, wanting the end results of the surgery. Was he okay? Was he alive?
"The entrance of the bullet in the back of his shoulder caused the most damage. I had to remove part of the scapular plate and replace it with a metal liner, and because it was knocked out of position, he'll need physical therapy to rebuild the muscle to hold it in place." The doctor removed his head covering and wrung it in his hands. "The other bullet entered low, behind his ear, missing the brain stem, and exiting high on the right side of his cranium. A very clean wound with only damage to his skull, which won't have any lasting effects. Right now, we're concerned with bleeding in his head and will be watching him for the next seventy-two hours."
Seventy-two hours? That meant he was alive.
"Will he be okay?" she asked.
The doctor's hands stopped moving. "As long as he makes it through the next couple of days with no hemorrhaging, he should have a full recovery."
She grabbed onto her dad, covering her mouth to contain the sobs of relief. The rollercoaster ride of thinking he was dead, thinking she lost him, thinking she couldn't save him, thinking that she'd never get to tell him she loved him again broke her.
"The anesthesia is wearing off and the nurses are getting him ready to transport him to his room. Once he can have visitors..." He gazed at the bikers. "He can have two-three visitors at a time. Let me remind you that the next couple of days are paramount to his recovery."
She nodded insistently. Nobody would hurt him. She would make sure of it.
Dr. Everett dipped his chin and left through the swinging doors. Skye hugged herself, unable to stop the shakes, abusing her.
"He's going to be fine, honey." Aunt Brooke hugged her.
Mariah joined the hug. "You saved him."
Her dad pulled her to his chest. She let his strong arms cocoon her.
No, she was lucky that all her years of swimming gave her the confidence and calmness to think of a way to get him out of the marsh without panicking when the tide was coming in—because inside, she was an immature, totally-in-love, overstimulated, scaredy cat who now clung to her dad because she was afraid of losing Dio.
"He had so many injuries." She exhaledharshly, hurting for Dio. "Two bullets. He was shot two—"
Her dad squeezed her. "Remember what the doctor said. Dio was hurt when target practicing. The shots ricocheted and hit him."
She closed her mouth. That was a lie. Men had tried to kill him. But to tell the truth would mean the Havlin members would be held responsible for killing the men who shot Dio.
But she knew the truth.
Her dad, as if reading her mind, faced her, holding her by the shoulders. "It's what needed done. If you're going to love Dio, you must understand that he lives a hard life. That things within Havlin aren't always black and white. If you have trouble accepting—"
"I don't," she blurted.
"If you do, you talk to Dio, me, or your aunt." He kissed her forehead. "We're family."
She nodded, understanding her role better as Dio's old lady. It wasn't for her to question Dio or the club but to know that they would protect her, even taking a bullet for her—to the detriment of themselves.
The doors opened, and a nurse walked in. "Dio Fanta's family?"
She whirled around to the nurse standing at the swinging doors. "That's us."
"He's awake but very groggy. We've put him in his room to rest and give him time to wear off the good drugs, but..." The nurse smiled. "He's asking for Princess."
She stepped forward. "That's me."
"I'll show you to his room." The nurse stepped through the door, holding it open. "Right now, only one person at a time can see him until normal visiting hours. Then, three people at a time can see him."