Brynne realized her face was wet with tears; she made a snuffling sound, still paralyzed.

He stretched out his free arm. “Come here,” he murmured. “Please.”

Brynne felt herself moving toward him, though it seemed she’d had nothing to do with the motion. She hurried the last few steps, sobbing inelegantly, and took his outstretched hand.

Her fingers interlaced with his, she sank into the chair beside his bed and pressed his hand to her face.

“It’s okay, Brynne,” he told her, his voice both gruff and gentle, and so low she had to strain to hear him. “I’m okay.”

“You nearly died!”

“A miss is as good as a mile,” he pointed out.

“What if that awful woman had killed you, Eli?”

“She didn’t. Look at me. I’m none too pretty, but I’m alive.”

“They had to drill a hole in your head!”

He smiled. “So I’m told.”

She leaned forward, rested her forehead on his right shoulder, still clutching his hand. “Of all the jobs you could have had, Eli Garrett, why did you have to be a cop?”

“I tried flipping burgers at Sully’s. They kept falling on the floor.”

“That isn’t funny.”

Eli arched one eyebrow, then winced. “I think it is,” he said.

“Then you’re crazy.”

“Maybe you had to be there.”

She made a scoffing sound.

He went right on talking when he should have been, well, healing. “Do I have stitches in the back of my head? Feels like it.”

“Staples,” Brynne wailed, partly in horror and partly in frustration.

“For a small woman, Gretchen packs a wallop.”

Brynne felt her mouth twitch. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to make me laugh! This is serious!”

“Is it? People get hurt every day, Brynne, all over the world. And it’s often a lot worse than this.”

“Cops get hurt every day,” she argued stubbornly.

“I can’t quit,” Eli said.

She knew that. And she wouldn’t ask him to turn in his badge.

To Eli, law enforcement wasn’t just a job, or even a career. It was a calling, as surely as if he’d been a minister or a priest.

But could she live with that?

He turned his hand, cupped her chin in his palm, caressed her cheeks lightly with his rough fingertips. “I love you, Brynne,” he said, softly. “I have since we were kids—I was just too clueless to realize it.” A brief pause; she watched him summon the last of his energy. “You don’t have to respond to that. I just want you to know how I feel.”

Brynne’s eyes stung fiercely, and she had to tuck her lips in and press them together hard just to keep from sobbing again. Eli was badly hurt, and he’d regained consciousness less than half an hour ago.

He did not need to deal with a hysterical woman.