The door opened, and in walked a woman in scrubs. As the door closed, I caught a glimpse of a man in uniform standing guard.

“Good to see you awake, Delilah. I’m Annie. How are you feeling?”

I snorted. “That’s a loaded question.”

She nodded and gave me a small smile. “I bet.” She logged onto a computer and recorded some stuff from the machines I was hooked up to. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake and get you some food. I’m sure you must be hungry.”

“Thank you.”

The food came, and Nathan spent the next hour trying to spoon-feed me unappealing hospital food along with the worst lime Jell-O I’d ever eaten in my life. How could they screw up such an easy thing?

“I need out of here now, because if I gag on this shit and throw up, they’ll find it as another reason to keep me here.” I couldn’t express my loathing of hospitals in words. Three times in one year was way too many.

He groaned. “Just humor me.” He tried to give me one last scoop, but I smashed my lips together and refused to take any more of that crap.

A knock on the door interrupted Nathan’s next attempt. We both turned to see a young man standing at the door. “Hi there. I’m Dr. Yeung. How are you feeling, Mrs. Thorne?”

“I’m ready to leave.” My arm hurt, but I didn’t care. I was going to make a good show of being the very essence of health to get myself out.

“Your wound has been treated, and we couldn’t find anything else wrong while you were out, other than some cuts and bruising. Does your head hurt?”

“A little.” I ignored the throbbing at my temples. “It’s good.”

He pulled out his little pen light, lifted the top of my left eyelid and peered inside. He did the same to the other side, and I sat there, holding my breath, waiting. A quick check of my pulse and heartbeat on the many machines that monitored me was next, and he seemed pleased with their results.

“Is she good?” Nathan asked, his voice hopeful.

The doctor slipped the pen back into his jacket pocket. “The bullet shot clean through and didn’t hit any bones or vital areas. You’ll need lots of rest, and once the wound starts healing, physical therapy. Other than that, everything looks good. I would like to keep you for another day for observation. You were out for a long time. There’ll be some bruising and swelling that will go down in a few days.” He headed toward the door and gave us a smile. “I’ll check back in on you later, so relax for now. You’re safe.”

He left, and I sighed in relief, as did Nathan. Though I hated that I had to continue being in the hospital, it didn’t bother me so much, because Nathan was there with me and he was all that mattered.

The next day, the ride home was surreal. I was stocked full of pain meds, and my arm was in a sling. I still couldn’t believe all that happened. Everything that crashed down on us, we beat through.

“We made it,” I whispered to myself for what had to be the tenth time. It was still strange to be alive when I thought I was about to die. Now, nothing and no one stood in our way.

Nathan stroked my hair. “Yes, we did. Now relax.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’ll probably be days or weeks before that happens.” I wiggled in my seat to try and stretch my muscles out, and got a twinge. “There’s so much tension in my back.”

“From all the anxiety. We can go home, have a nice relaxing bath, and decompress.”

“I can’t get my wound wet yet.”

“True. Speaking of—how are you feeling?”

“The meds are helping with the pain.” I flexed the fingers on my left hand. The sling held my arm close to my chest, gauze wrapped all around my shoulder. A dull pain thumped through my shoulder, but I didn’t mind—it reminded me I was alive.

Nathan’s right hand rested on my thigh, and I gripped onto his pinky and ring finger. The angle was a little odd, but I reveled in the connection.

Stepping into our home was strange. Memories of all the turmoil, fear, and anger flooded me.

“Our sanctuary doesn’t feel the same.”

He chuckled. “Everything’s changing with each passing minute, Honeybear. The present is different than when we left two days ago.”

“There’s a calm, almost like the turbulence was never here.”

We clasped hands as we walked into the living room and stared at everything with fresh, new eyes. It was an almost foreign environment. All the fixtures were the same, but the atmosphere was different.

We let go of each other and wandered in opposite directions.

My chest ached as I breathed it all in.

A few moments later, Nathan stepped up behind me and kissed the top of my head. “Come on.” He linked his fingers with mine once again and led me to the couch. We sat down, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. Neither of us knew what to do.

Minutes passed, and we sat there immersed in our new reality. No more looking over our shoulders, no more demons in the shadows, and no more need for masks. We’d both been running for so long that we didn’t know how to take a breath, how to stop.

“So what’s the next step? What do we do now?” I leaned into him.

“What would you like to do?”

“Well, after this week, I’m officially out of personal time. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten.” I sighed.

He turned to look at me, staring. “What are you saying?”

“That since I met you, I’ve blown through almost three months of built up personal time.”

“Hmm, I see.” He cupped my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. “And if you could do it all again?”

“While being in a car accident and gun fight wasn’t fun, I wouldn’t change meeting you for anything in the universe.” I pressed my lips to his, but he didn’t deepen it like I thought he would.

He stared into my eyes, a mischievous glint in his. “What if giving me up would stop an alien invasion that would decimate all life on the planet?”

I shook my head. “You’re mine.”

“You’d kill everyone on the planet just to keep me?”

“They’d just have to take me with you, because I’m never letting go.”

“Me either.”

His lips met mine, and he lowered me down onto the couch. I adjusted my legs and he settled between them, caging my body in his arms to keep his weight off. I winced a little in pain, but it subsided. It felt so good to have him close that I didn’t care about the discomfort of my injuries.