Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Good idea,” Brie says. “Did you ever return Paul’s phone call?”
“I texted him back just a bit ago. I’ll do a press release tomorrow. He’s running the story of the attack in the paper tomorrow morning, but I’ll field questions from the public after it’s gone out.”
Brie hugs me after I’ve put on my coat. “We’ll figure it out, Jax. I swear it.”
“I sure hope so.” I kiss the top of her head. “Thanks for all your help today.”
The drive to the hospital is short and I find Dante, Shelly, and Hans all still perched in the same chairs. Callan went straight to a private recovery room after surgery until he’s stabilized and has been doped up on meds ever since. He’s on a ventilator at the moment, but Dr. Olson is certain they’ll be able to take him off tomorrow. Tonight they want to monitor him closely and get him out of the clear.
“Any new news?” I ask as I approach.
Shelly shakes her head. “Sleeping. Vitals are good.”
I glance at the clock. “Visiting hours are over now.”
“We want to be here for when he wakes up,” Shelly says, her red eyes meeting mine.
“You need rest, Shelly,” I say to her. “You all three do. Come on. I’ll drive you all back.”
After some convincing, I finally manage to load them into Dante’s Range Rover, take them through a drive through so everyone can scarf down a quick bite, and then take them back. Once in the solitude of Dante’s bedroom, I head into the bathroom to run him a bath. He strips down and sinks into the hot water, groaning.
“Stay with me,” he croaks out. “Please.”
I shed my clothes and then climb in with him, settling behind him, thankful for the giant tub. He lays his back against my chest. Gently, I stroke soothing circles on his abdomen beneath the hot water, pressing kisses to the side of his neck.
“I failed him.” His voice is gruff. “I failed the one I was supposed to protect.”
“No,” I say in a firm tone. “You’ve been there for him your entire life. Don’t blame yourself for something out of your control.”
He grows quiet and then he mutters, “Toby came to see me today.”
“Toby? As in your ex?”
“I always wondered what would happen when he eventually came crawling back to me.”
Jealousy spikes through me, and though it’s the wrong time to feel like this, I can’t help it. “What happened?”
“He realized he wanted me back. Called off the wedding with his fiancé.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Sounded familiar.”
“You told him to eat shit and die?” I hug him tighter.
“Close enough. I realized I don’t miss him at all. There’s only one man who makes me happy even though happiness is the last thing I deserve to feel right now when my brother is lying in a hospital bed.”
My heart surges at his words. “You deserve all the happiness in the world, big city man.”
“You kissed me at the hospital,” Dante murmurs.
“I did.” I don’t flinch or feel a pang of regret or fear either. “It felt pretty fucking right, too.”
I want him to agree, but he says nothing.
“I’m not going anywhere, Dante.”
Dante
I pace the small hospital room, my eyes never leaving Callan as Dr. Olson examines him. He spent the night in the private recovery room, but this morning they moved him to a regular room since they were able to take him off the ventilator. My baby brother is nearly unrecognizable due to all the bruising and swelling. Every time I look at him, I’m sickened, yet I can’t look away because I need the reminder.
Jax peeks his head into the room and I drag my stare from my brother to the only person keeping me together. He carries in two cups of coffee and hands one off to me.
“Where’s Shelly?”
“Just left,” I reply, dragging my stare back to my brother. “Since Callan is awake and on the mend, Hans thought she should distract herself with projects at the B&B.”
“Probably for the best. Have you spoken to him yet about what happened?”
I shake my head. “We were just talking about it when Dr. Olson showed up.”
A nurse I learned is named Boaz walks in with a tray of food and sets it down beside Callan. Dr. Olson says something to Callan, pats his arm, and then makes his way over to us while Boaz assists Callan with his meal. We set our coffees down on the table, eager to hear what Dr. Olson has to say.
“How’s he doing?” My voice is gritty and raw.
“Quite remarkably, really,” Dr. Olson says. “I’m certain he’ll make a full recovery with no terrible, lasting effects as far as the head injury is concerned.”
“But?” I croak out.
“But, since this was an assault, I worry about his psychological well-being. It’s something we’ll need to keep an eye on.”