Everything is muffled and I'm so cold, it's almost hot, like when I played in snow for the first time as a kid and forgot to wear gloves. I know I need to get up, but I'm so tired, I sink back into darkness. I hear someone calling for me, but I can't summon the energy to figure out who it is and why.

"Gabe!" They call again.

Then hands are on me, turning me over and I realize I can't breathe. Coughing overcomes me, my body trying to purge my lungs of its contents.

"Gabe, oh my God," a woman says.

I blink, trying to pull her face into focus, but it takes so much energy I give up and pull a picture of her to the forefront of my memory. Chloe. Tyler always says if he's going to die, he'd rather do it staring at a beautiful woman. I'll have to remember to tell him he's right. After a few seconds of furious hacking and blinking, my lungs clear and my vision refocuses.

"You're okay," Chloe says. "We're okay."

"S'goin' on?" I slur.

"It's okay. We're safe. The boat—" But an explosion cuts off her words. Waves of heat pass over us and debris rains down around us.

She loses her grip on me and the water swallows me, despite my life jacket. At least this time I manage to hold my breath until she finds me and drags me back to the surface. We break through the top and float there for a second watching the decimated wreckage of the ferry be consumed by tongues of flames.

When we can tear our eyes away, Chloe turns to me and says, "Are you okay? They should be here soon."

It takes me a couple tries with my teeth chattering from the cold, but I spit out, "F-fine. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," she says.

A bead of water drips down her face, and I wish I had the energy to trace its path with my fingers.

I shake my head to clear it. "I'll be okay."

A feeling I don't quite recognize is filling my chest, making it tight and hard to breathe. For a second, I wonder if Jones had gotten off another shot that we missed. My face grows hot and my throat scratchy. I keep trying to cough to clear it out, but it comes back.

"Just hold on," Chloe is saying, her face illuminated by the distant fire. "I can hear them. They're getting closer."

I have to focus intently on the sound of the water and my own racing heart, but I do catch the faintest sound of an engine roaring and it does sound close. Relief steals over me.

"They're almost here," Chloe says.

I try to find them in the darkness, but my vision is failing. Maybe Jones did get another shot off. Or maybe my bandages came off and I'm bleeding out.

"Stay with me," is the last thing I hear Chloe say before I pass out.

* * *

"You're damn lucky," Tyler says.

I glance around the hospital room, at the wires and tubes connecting me to a half-dozen machines and then back at him. "Lucky?" I say.

"Coulda been worse," he says.

Leaning into the soft, but thin, pillows, I grunt. "Yeah, it could have. Almost was."

A knock comes at the door and a cheerful-looking nurse peers around the edge with Tyler's wife following close behind holding two cups of coffee. "Mr. Rossi, just need to come check you over."

The nurse is young, mid-twenties maybe and the type of woman I would have hit on and tempted back to my place. As she inspects my bandages, even flipping up the sheets to look at the gunshot wound on my leg, I don't feel the slightest stirring of lust. Nothing.

Probably because they haven't told me anything about Chloe. I'm exhausted, I tell myself. I'll be able to relax when I know she's okay and then I can go home and life will go back to normal. Whatever normal is.

"Looks good, but take it easy," the nurse says and then shoots a stern look at Tyler. "You need to rest, Mr. Rossi."

Tyler holds his hands up in defense and gives her an easy smile. "I'll make sure he doesn't move," he tells her.

His wife rolls her eyes and smacks the back of his head after the nurse closes the door behind her. Tyler smiles wider and kisses his wife on her lips, murmuring to her.

"When are they letting you out?" his wife asks when she can pull herself from Tyler's grip.

I shrug before I forget about the gash in my side. "Probably tomorrow. They've stitched me up, gave me antibiotics. Don't see any reason why I need to stay longer than that."

Selena raises her eyebrows. "Tomorrow, huh?" she says.

My lips twist into a scowl. "I'm not staying in here longer than that."

"He hates hospitals," Tyler tells her.

Selena says, "You were shot twice and nearly blown up, for God's sake. You need to rest like the nurse said."

I shake my head. "I won't get any rest here. It'd be best for all involved if I do my convalescing at home."

"You'll stay here until they discharge you," Selena says firmly.

Tyler gazes at her with moony eyes. "Gotta love her," he says and kisses her hand. "She's a pain in the ass, but you gotta love her."

I roll my eyes at the both of them. "I'll stay," I say, then add, "for now."

Selena gives me a stern look, then kisses Tyler on the cheek. "I've got to get going, but you keep an eye on this guy and make sure he doesn't give those pretty nurses too much trouble."

Grateful for the change in subject, I say, "Yes, ma'am."

She comes to give me a kiss. "You rest, okay? I'm not joking."

"Fine," I say. "But only if you promise to run away with me. You deserve much better than that old man."

Tyler makes a scoffing sound in his throat.

Selena smiles again and ruffles my hair. "Get better," she says, "and we'll see."

Once she leaves, I'm able to unhinge my smile and I stare out of the window for a while. Tyler watches me silently until I say, "You don't have to stay. I'll be pretty boring for a while."

Tyler doesn't crack a joke, which isn't like him. "I think you need to talk about what happened," he says with an uncharacteristically serious face.

"I'm fine," I say to the wall over his shoulder.

"Cut the bullshit," he says. "You're not okay. I can look at you and see you're not okay."

"I don't want to talk about it right now."

"You can't cage that shit up," Tyler says. "You need to get it out or it'll haunt you." When I say nothing, he keeps going. "It was about his wife, wasn't it? While I was waiting for them to bring you in, I looked him up. The Lady who drowned a while back? That was his wife?" He pauses like he's waiting for me to acknowledge him, but I keep my face carefully blank. "It doesn't take a genius to guess he blamed you for her death."

"Ty, I don't want to do this," I say.

"Then I'll talk." He crosses the room to sit beside me. "It wasn't your fault," he says.

"I know it's not my fault."

"Do you? Maybe you should tell that to your face, because you look like you killed twenty people instead of saving their lives."

"I didn't save them. I'm the reason he kidnapped them. If it wasn't for me, they would have been fine."

"The reason he kidnapped them is because he was a sick man," Tyler argues. "A sick man made that decision out of anger and grief. He wasn't right in the head, Gabe. If I lost Selena, I'd be mad as all hell, but I wouldn't kill people because of it."

I keep my eyes on the bedspread. I can't bring myself to look at him. "If she was caught in that storm and I couldn't get to her in time—"

"I wouldn't blame you," he says. "In our line of work, people die. That doesn't mean it was your fault. You tried to save her. You can't save everyone." There's silence while I digest his words. They make absolute sense, but that doesn't mean I believe them. "Just think about it," he says. "Besides, you saved everyone on that boat."

"Not everyone," I say.

"The city is planning on giving you a medal," Tyler adds and startles a disbelieving snort from me.

"You're kidding."

"Or maybe it's keys to the city."

I shake my head. "Unbelievable."

"No shit," he says. "Stevens about shit a brick."

"I bet." I try to keep the words inside, but my concern overrules my common sense. "How is she?" I ask.

"Why don't you go see her yourself?" he asks.

"Probably not a good idea."

Another knock comes at the door and I can see the top of Emily's head through the window. Taylor hovers close behind her.

Tyler twists to see them, then gives me a brotherly pat on the shoulder. "Just think about what I said," he tells me as he walks to the door. "Think about going to see the girl, too. I'm gonna go grab some coffee from the cafeteria. I'll be back."

He greets Taylor and Emily's squeal as she bursts through the door.

"Daddy!" she shouts as she throws herself bodily onto the bed next to me.

"Emily," Taylor chides. "Be careful, your daddy's hurt."

"Sorry, Daddy," Emily says, her sweet face upturned.

I brush her hair back from her flushed face. "That's okay, angel. I'm fine. I'm happy to see you."

"I'm glad you're okay," Emily says solemnly.

"Thank God you got back okay," Taylor adds. "After you left we were so scared. I shouldn't have convinced you to go."

I wave her concerns away. "I would have had to go anyway."

Taylor's face turns serious. "I heard."

Emily snuggles up next to my side and wraps her arms around me. I barely notice the twinge from my ribs. Her fruity shampoo calms me and I press my face closer to her head to inhale it.

"We can talk about it later," she says as she looks around the room. She takes in the dozens of vases of flowers on every available surface. "I see you've got admirers. It was a madhouse downstairs. There were ten or twelve reporters trying to get in."

"You guys okay to get home?" I ask.

She nods. "We'll be fine. We wanted to come and visit for a while."

"What about the girl, Daddy? Did you save her?"

I relax for the first time since I heard her voicemail. "I did, sweetheart. But I think she saved me, too."

I should be happy.

Really, I am.

"You're good to go, Ms. McKinney," a nurse says. She pauses in the doorway. "We're so happy that you're okay."

"Thank you," I tell her, but my voice sounds wooden to my ears. "Me, too."

The door closes behind her and I turn back to my study of the square of grass outside my window. It's lightening up outside, and I want to watch the sun come up. Maybe knowing that life will go on, that my life isn't over, will help eradicate the dull, cotton that's filled my chest.

It's over. It's over and you're fine.

No matter how many times I repeat those words, my brain doesn't quite seem willing to accept them. I tried going to sleep, but every time I laid my head down and closed my eyes, I could see Jones' face in my mind and I'd shoot up, expecting to find him grinning down at me. Eventually, I gave up trying to sleep and convinced a nurse to let me have a cup of coffee instead.

It's long since cooled on the bedside table because I found I couldn't stomach much of anything.

"Hey," comes a soft voice from the doorway.

I tear my gaze away from the window and find Sienna standing in the doorway. Her face is red, mottled, but dammit she looks beautiful even with splotchy skin and eyes bloodshot from crying.

She sniffles and wipes her nose with a tissue. "I'm so sorry," she says brokenly.

I sit on the foot of my bed and gesture for her to come inside. "I didn't know you were coming back! And you have nothing to be sorry about," I tell her. "This wasn't your fault."

"How can you say that?" she sobs. "I'm the one that told you to take the job. I practically forced you! If it weren't for me, you would have been on vacation. Probably met some sexy beach bum. Instead, you nearly got k-killed."

"There's no way you could have known it was going to happen." I pull her down until she's sitting beside me. "Don't you dare blame yourself."

"How can I not?" she asks.

"Hey," I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "I was the one nearly killed. What I say, goes." I intended it to be a joke to lighten the mood, but it causes her to burst into fresh tears.

"I'm s-sorry." She takes a shuddering breath. "I told myself I wouldn't cry, but when I saw your name on the news, I thought you were gonna die. I made them turn us around."

I wince. "I totally forgot. Did you find a place to stay?"

She shakes her head. "No, but that's not important. What's important is that you're okay. You're here."

"I'm okay." I rub her back.

Sienna laughs and gets to her feet. "Look at me. I'm in worse shape than you are. You don't look the least bit traumatized." Her eyes narrow. "Why don't you look traumatized?"

I lift a shoulder.

Sienna stops dabbing at her eyes and she squints at me. "There's something you're not telling me," she declares imperiously. "What is it? What happened? You're not hurt are you? You look fine." She studies me for a few more seconds, then her mouth drops open into a little O of surprise. "No, you can't—did you meet someone? You look positively miserable."

Turning my back on her I cross back to the window to find the sun is rising over the buildings. "No, of course not."

There are few seconds of silence and then she makes a sound in the back of her throat. "No, I don't believe you. This is exactly how you looked when that asshole broke up with you. I don't—how the hell did you meet someone when you were a hostage? This isn't some sort of Stockholm situation, is it?"

That startles a laugh out of me. "No, it's not."

"Then who..." Her head jerks backward and she sucks in a breath. "That man," she says, "the one who saved you."

"Well, I like to think I helped."

"You've got the hots for your rescuer?" The thought seems even more ridiculous when she says it out loud. "The one they've been showing on the news?" She pauses thoughtfully. "He is pretty hot."

I glance over at her wondering if she's seen him. The question must show plainly on my face because she says, "They showed his picture during the news report. Yours, too, actually. You're all they've been able to talk about since it started."

"Did they—" My throat closes around the words so I clear it and force myself to continue. "Did they say if he was okay?" I hope the words don't sound as desperate and hopeful as I think they do.

"Oh, honey," Sienna says, coming up beside me to wrap an arm around my waist and watch the sunrise with me. "He's fine. The news report said he was wounded—they didn't specify how—but they said he'll be okay. I think he's here, too, because of the mob outside and the heavy police guard."

"Good—that's good. I'm glad."

"I don't mean to overstep my bounds because I'm sure you're overwhelmed as it is, but is he why you look so upset? Did he...do something?"

"No, no, of course not." I put a reassuring hand on her arm. "He was, is, great. I promise."

"Then what's the problem?" she asks.

"I just—this will sound stupid," I warn.

She laughs. "No judgment. If anyone will understand, it's me."

A knot loosens inside of me. I should have known I could confide in her. "Okay, well. I guess I want to see him again. Make sure he's okay for myself. When I saw him last they were loading his unconscious body into an ambulance after they rescued us and that's the image I have in my head of him, laying on the gurney looking like he died. He came to help me. I want to see him to make sure he's okay for my peace of mind."

She runs her fingers through my hair and for the first time since they rescued us from the water, I feel a sense of calm. "That makes total sense. He saved your life. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you went over to visit him."

"Yeah..."

"But," she prompts.

"But maybe there might be some feelings in there somewhere."

Sienna squeals, then calms herself down. "I'm sorry. I—well I know how upset you've been since Thomas broke things off."

"Yeah, but, ugh, this is stupid. Tell me it's stupid. I don't want to make a fool out of myself if it's just, like a situation crush or something."

"Does it feel like a crush?" she asks.

"Not sure I trust my judgment right now."

"Maybe you should go see him and see how you feel."

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe. Won't that be weird? It would be horrible if he was all business-like. I'd feel stupid."

"You'd be even more stupid if you do like this guy and you don't go see him. Maybe he feels the same way."

"He's got enough on his plate without me bothering him."

"If you say so, but I still think you should go see him."

A nurse knocks on the door with a tray for breakfast and I'm thankful as Sienna changes the subject.

I endured the horrors of last night, but the thought of putting myself out there and then being rejected like I was with Thomas is almost too much to bear.