Seth tries again. “Besides, you helped me. Now I’m helpin’ you.”
Lacey lifts her chin. “I don’t want your pity.”
He grinds his teeth. “Goddamnit, Lacey, it ain’t—”
He breaks off, feeling like the biggest asshole yelling at her as she lies hurt in a hospital bed. He lowers his voice. “It ain’t pity. It’s a favor to Sal. I’m gonna take you home, get you settled, get out of your hair. How does that sound?”
She crosses her arms. “Fine.”
He glances around the room, irritation chafing at him. It shouldn’t matter that she wants him here or not. He’s here, she’s going to deal with it, and tomorrow he’ll be on a plane back to Nashville.
He drops into a chair next to her bed.
His eyes scan her face, the up-close view of her. Wide-set green eyes, a full bottom lip, her pretty face scrubbed clean of makeup. He hasn’t seen her, hasn’t spoken to her in months. Three, to be exact. Not since she left the hospital in a blur, without a goodbye, her demand to end things ringing in his ears. He doesn’t know what happened that night, but ever since then Lacey’s been taking over his thoughts. Some haughty high-heeled dream stomping around his memories.
Seth fixes her with a look she can’t outrun. “How are you doin’?”
“Fine.”
“Try again.”
She frowns his way. “What?”
“Try again.” Hands on the thighs of his jeans, he leans into her. “You ain’t fine. You were fuckin’ stabbed. So give me the real answer. Or lie better.”
Fear slams into her green eyes, long enough for Seth to catch a glimpse of it. Then her eyes shutter. She grimaces. “I hurt, Seth.” A long exhale. A windup. A release— “I feel like shit. Like a crash test dummy. I have twenty stitches in my stomach, I look awful, I hate this gown, it itches, and in two weeks I can take a bath. There. Happy?”
“You’re right,” he says finally. “The gown definitely ain’t your color.”
That gets him a laugh. A pink blush that gives her pale face a pretty glow.
“But you don’t look awful, Lace. You look—” Beautiful. Dangerous. Fragile. “Stabbed.”
She rolls her eyes.
The room falls silent.
When he sees her gaze land on the hospital tray, he immediately stands. “You want a drink?”
She nods eagerly.
He grabs it up and brings it to her lips. Her slender hand closes over his, warm and shaky, as she gulps water. Seth takes in the tired planes of her beautiful face. She’s thirsty, exhausted, and God knows what else. How she’s keeping it together is a feat known only to Lacey.
When she’s finished, he sits back down. He can’t help it. He has to ask. “Your stomach, you said?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
Her eyes, glazed with pain, drift downward. “In my side. Right above my hip bone. It was so quick ... I didn’t even realize at first ...”
Anger hits Seth hard, curls his fists. Whoever did this left Lacey to die as if she never existed. What he wouldn’t give to meet the son of a bitch in that same dark alley with a sock full of pennies.
“You talk to the cops?” Hot anger edges his voice.
“I did. You know how that goes,” she says, and he does. Their minds both moving to Sal’s ordeal. Lacey shrugs, running a hand through her blond tangles. “I gave them the best description I could. They’ll get him or they won’t.”
“They’ll find him, Lace.”
They goddamn better.
The door cracks. “Oh good,” the nurse says. “You have a ride.” The nurse looks at Seth. Booms a laugh. “She’s a fussy one.”
He grins. “You’re tellin’ me.”
Lacey scowls, but Seth doesn’t miss the pain in her eyes. She looks as lost as he felt back in Nashville. All he wants to do is get her home and get her settled. Take her hand and tell her everything will be alright. Because it will be.
He’ll make sure of it.