“I’ll leave you two alone. Just make sure to clean up the mess when you’re done.”
“Thanks Healer.”
Alone in the infirmary, I never took my eyes off my woman with flaming red hair. Yes, she looked like some fiery siren with flames shooting out of her eyeballs.
When she didn’t move, I gulped.
I never claimed to be a smart man. I made mistakes with the best of them but even I knew there was no excuse for what I did last night. Drinking was a choice. I chose to do it. Anything I did after that was on me.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jessica challenged, cocking her head. “What are you sorry about Mr. Keller?”
Shit.
Mr. Keller.
She was really pissed.
“For hurting you.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
“I didn’t?” I asked confused. She was acting weird. Weirder than usual. I’d never seen this side of Jessica. She was scaring me.
“I shouldn’t have drank.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“Baby, please talk to me. I fucked up. If there is anything I can do to fix this, please tell me.”
She sighed and walked over to me. I watched in rapt attention as she reached for her stethoscope and placed it on my chest. Watching her as she listened to my heart, I tried to calm the anxiety racing through my veins. I knew she could hear my heart beating heavily. There was nothing I could do to slow it down.
When she pulled the stethoscope from her ears, she walked around the bed I was on and grabbed a blood pressure cuff. Efficiently placing it on my arm, she squeezed the small pump, filling the cuff with air. When she got it as tight as she could, she said nothing while she listened to the blood pumping in my veins.
“You are as normal as you can be.”
“That’s good right?” I asked hopefully.
“Yep,” she quickly said, “Because now I can do this.”
The next thing I felt was the air leaving my body as she hauled off and slammed her fist into my midsection. Coughing and gasping for air, I tried valiantly to curb the urge to vomit.
“You piece of shit!” she yelled, hitting me with her little fist over and over. I wasn’t going to tell her that it didn’t hurt. In fact, after the initial hit, her fists felt like little puppies walking across my stomach but she didn’t need to know that. She was mad, rightfully so. I could play the part. I may not have a fucking brain cell in my body but I knew when to play dumb.
“Yeah,” I groaned, holding my stomach. “That’s me.”
“I hate you!” she screamed.
“I love you too, baby,” I moaned, as her fists started to wane. She was losing momentum, which allowed me to slowly sit up and reach for her. Holding her tight against me as she tried to fight my hold. My woman was an itty-bitty thing compared to my six-foot five, two-hundred and eighty pounds of pure muscle. My woman didn’t stand a chance but I was man enough to let her get her anger out. I could take it. She was worth it.
I fucked up and she deserved to claim her pound of flesh.
When she stopped fighting, I pulled her onto my lap and cradled her as her anger turned to tears. Holding her, I whispered, “Please don’t cry baby. I am so sorry. It’s all my fault. I fucked up. I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Yes, you will,” she sniffed, crying into my chest.
“I know. I wish I could be a better man for you. I’d do anything to make this right.”