“Come here.” I hold out my arms, trying to scoot over as much as I can.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” She hesitates, making me frown.
“Cupcake, I was just pumped full of said drugs, and I have about five minutes before I’m out cold. Don’t deny me holding the one thing in this world that means more to me than my own life.” She’s wavering. “Please,” I tack on with a pout.
“Only for a few minutes.” She relents.
I don’t care for how long she thinks; she’ll stay until I tell her to move. As soon as she lays down without jostling me, my hand goes directly to her hair, a tight grip in my fist, and she sighs. Fuck, do I love that sound.
“How are you feeling?” she asks me rubbing her cheek against my heart. I wonder if she feels half as at peace as I do having her close again?
“At the moment? Nothing.” I laugh.
I am lucky. Incredibly so. I should probably be dead. I lost a pint of blood, an artery was pinched in my chest somewhere and had I not been in surgery when it decided to announce itself, I’d have died. Almost did, anyway. Stitches, a concussion, a broken leg, and a few bruised ribs were as bad as it got otherwise. Well, plus the road rash. That shit stings.
“When will you get to leave?” she asks.
“Ten days or so the doctor said this morning.”
“Oh.” So much disappointment in such a small sound.
I can feel the drugs working their way through my system. My eyes are heavy and my brain feels sluggish. Pulling on her hair, I swear she purrs. “Don’t fucking move while I nap,” I demand.
“Okay.”
And just like that, I’m out cold. Safe in the knowledge that she’s by my side.
Ashley
So big, so strong. He shouldn’t be lying here broken. He should be back to his bossy self, ordering me around. Commanding whatever space he’s occupying. Now he just looks pale, tired, weak. I know differently, however.
For two days, I have watched him manipulate the doctors into lowering the dosage of his meds, claiming they made him feel worse. That he felt sick when he took them. I think his new doctor is onto him, though, and simply humors him because unlike smaller, weaker men, he’s healing remarkably well. Aside from the leg, of course. That is going to take a while.
He has joked with Landon that at least winter was coming, and it’s not like he could ride for a few months, anyway. I wanted to cry that he could make light of his injuries. I haven’t told him that I talked to Becky the night of the accident, or that she made me an appointment here at the hospital with a psychiatrist. The appointment is in twenty minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Declan asks after I’ve been sitting and staring at the wall for who knows how long.
I want to throw some off-the-wall sarcastic comment at him, but I know he’ll get pissed at me, so I give him the truth. “I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”
“For what?”
Taking a deep breath, I blow out a puff of air and murmur, “A psychiatrist.”
He’s silent for so long I’m afraid to look at him.
“You afraid to tell me?” There’s no inflection in his voice, so I can’t figure out what he’s thinking.
“No.” I lie. “Yes.” I concede.
“Why?”
Why indeed.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid there’s something very wrong with me. I’m afraid I’m so broken that nothing will fix me. I’m afraid–” Focusing in on his dark gaze, I confess. “I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”
His eyes soften. “Woman,” he rumbles. “Come here.” I do as he asks, sitting in the spot beside his hip on the bed. He isn’t satisfied with that closeness, instead, delving his hand through my hair, he pulls me forward. I melt into his touch. “You’ll never disappoint me.”
“