My Husband?

My Husband?
Kayla’s POV

Holly spoke for a long time, and I listened. I didn’t know how to take everything she said. 

We were done with the call and I was just sitting on the couch, thinking about her bizarre advice.

I was still laughing a little at Holly’s dramatic ass when the phone rang again almost immediately.

“Girl, I told you that’s enough preaching for one night,” I muttered, swiping to answer without even checking the screen. “What now? You gonna tell me to name our future kids already?”

But it wasn’t Holly.

“Mrs. Vargas?” a hurried, panicked voice on the other end said. “You need to come down to St. Dominic’s Hospital right now. Your husband has been shot.”

The world tilted.

I stood there frozen in my pajamas, phone pressed to my ear. Husband? What husband? Then reality slammed into me like a truck.

Nathan.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

I didn’t wait for more details. I didn’t even think. My feet were already moving. 

I grabbed my car keys and phone and bolted out of the apartment, not bothering to change, not bothering to lock the door properly, nothing. 

I was still in my gray shorts and tank top, mismatched slippers…one fuzzy pink, one plain black…slapping against the floor as I sprinted down the hallway.

The underground garage felt like it took forever. My hands were shaking so bad I could barely press the unlock button on the key fob. 

Why are my hands shaking? I thought. It’s not like I actually know this guy to be affected by this news. This is fake. All of it. But my body wasn’t listening. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my ribs.

I jumped into the car, steadied my breathing the best I could, and reversed out like a maniac. 

Tires screeched as I peeled out of the garage and onto the street, following the GPS directions toward St. Dominic Hospital. 

The whole drive was a blur of red lights I probably shouldn’t have run and my heart pounding in my ears.

By the time I pulled into the hospital parking lot, I didn’t even remember parking properly. 

I just rushed out and burst through the emergency entrance looking like a complete crazy woman…pajamas, wrong slippers, car key and phone gripped tight in one sweaty fist.

“I’m looking for Officer Nathan Vargas,” I told the nurse at the front desk, my voice shaky and breathless. “Please, where is he? Is he okay?”

The nurse looked me up and down. “Miss, what is your relationship with the patient?”

“I’m his wife,” I said without even a second of hesitation. The words just fell out.

She nodded. “Give me a minute to check the system.”

Before she could finish typing, a tall officer who had been standing nearby walked over, eyes scanning me carefully. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied my face. Then the nurse spoke again.

“You said you’re Nathan Vargas’s wife?”

Before I could answer, the officer grabbed my arm gently but firmly, startling me.

“The Captain’s wife?” he asked, eyes wide. “You’re the Captain’s wife?”

I nodded, eyes just as wide.

“Come with me,” he said, already pulling me along the hallway. I followed quietly, my mismatched slippers making soft sounds against the sterile floor. 

All I could do was pray silently. Please don’t let anything happen to him. Please. Don’t let him die. How can I be a widow just a few hours after we got married? Fake or not.

“What happened? Why is he in the hospital?” I asked carefully.

The officer exhaled…like he didn’t want to tell me the details and I figured out it must be one of those classified information within the force.

“He was shot during an oppression,” the officer answered as he stopped in front of a closed door.

“He’s been asking for you the whole time,” he said quietly. “Even through surgery to get the bullet out. The nurses said he kept muttering ‘Kayla… Kayla’ over and over.”

Something twisted hard inside my chest…conflicted, warm, scared, guilty, all at once. I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Is he okay now?” I asked, voice small.

The officer nodded. “Yeah. He’s stable. We had to sedate him though. He kept trying to get up and leave. Said he wanted to go home to his wife and that she was waiting for him.” He gave me a small, tired smile. “You can go in. He’s been expecting you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, eyes already clouding with tears.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dim, machines beeping softly. Nathan lay there looking way too still, his big frame taking up most of the bed. I walked over slowly, like I was scared he might disappear.

My hand reached out before I could stop it. 

I touched his forehead first.:.warm, a little damp. Then his cheek, rough with stubble. My eyes dropped to the thick white bandage wrapped around his shoulder and the sight of it hit me like a punch.

He’s a real cop. A captain. This is what he does. He runs toward danger every single night while I’m busy hiding from mine. 

And the most scary part is that this… this could happen again. And again.

I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears started dripping down my cheeks. 

They just kept falling. I couldn’t stop them. I don’t want to see anyone hurt. I can’t bear it. Not him. Not like this.

The tears kept coming, hot and silent, as I stood there beside his bed watching his still form.

What on earth did I sign up for?