Free His Every Word by Kelly Favor Page B

he’d just gotten the news and that he would do anything he could to help. “Just call me if you need anything, anything at all,” he said, in his throaty voice. His words were at odds with the shouting, flamboyant character she’d met in his office yesterday. But she thought that his making the effort to call and offer help had been incredibly kind. “Don’t worry about business,” he said at the end of his message. “Business is never as important as health. So heal up and rest up, and the movie will wait for you.”
    Then there were some messages from reporters—God only knew how they’d gotten her number so quickly. They were tactful and polite, telling her that they were doing stories about the attack and were interested in getting Kallie’s comment, if she was feeling up to it.
    Bryson’s message was the last one, and she listened to it just as she walked into the hospital. “Hey, Kallie, it’s Bryson,” he said, his voice sounding unsure on the message. “God, I don’t even know what to say. I’m absolutely devastated. Please know that you can call me day or night if you need anything. I’m thinking of you guys.” His voice broke a little at the end of the sentence. There was a long pause. “Well…I also heard from Max Weisman.” For some reason, he laughed after speaking the producer’s name. “Maybe, when you’re feeling better, you can call me about that, too.” Another long pause. “God, I’m just totally at loose ends here. I can’t stop thinking about what’s happened. Please call me when you get a chance, Kallie.”
    Kallie put her phone away and tried to shake the feeling that she was missing things—letting things get away from her. There were too many responsibilities—too many things to do and people to consider. All she really wanted to do was think of Hunter’s health—but that was the one thing she had the least control over.
    Detective Phillips saw the police officer sitting outside Hunter’s room on a cheap plastic chair. “Reinforcements have arrived,” he said.
    “You made that happen?” she asked him.
    “Hey, I’m not totally useless.”
    She was suddenly filled with gratitude and affection for him. “Thank you, Detective.”
    He smiled. “It was the least I could do after botching your case as badly as I did.”
    The officer guarding the room looked at them. “Are you here to visit Mr.
    Reardon?”
    “That we are,” Phillips replied. He showed his badge. “I’m Detective Phillips.
    This is Kallie Young, Mister Reardon’s girlfriend.”
    The officer smiled. He was Hispanic—younger, with kind brown eyes. “Go on in, then.”
    She started into Hunter’s room and the detective hung back, striking up a conversation with the officer. They didn’t know each other personally, but cops were cops and they immediately fell into an easy patter.
    Kallie went in and closed the door behind her.
    Hunter was sleeping, his eyes closed, mouth open. He looked impossibly frail as he lay in the hospital bed, and she was struck anew by just how dire his situation was.
    A lightning bolt of fear struck behind her head, at the top of her spine, sending a wave of panic through her entire body as she stood and stared at the man she loved.
    He looks as if he could be dead .
    Immediately, she ran to his bedside, checking the heart monitor, which seemed to indicate that he was fine.
    He’s just sleeping, that’s all. He’s sick, he’s wounded, he’s been through a trauma. But he’s not dying.
    She pulled a chair next to him and sat down, holding his hand and kissing it lightly. Hunter didn’t even stir as she did this, perhaps because he was drugged.
    Something’s wrong with him, Kallie thought. He’s not getting better.
    The clearness and intensity of her thoughts scared her deeply. How could she be so sure Hunter wasn’t improving? There was no evidence that anything was wrong.
    But the anxiety was eating at her now. She thought about Hunter’s surgeon, Doctor