Page 88 of Unraveled Love

“Eating,” Jaxon said. He towered over the edge of my bed, bracing his hands on the plastic bar at my side. “Charlie finally forced her to go get something. She’s been here, every minute she’s allowed.”

“Where are we?”

“Boone, about twenty minutes from the cabin. You’re good—or will be. Down for the count for a while though.”

“Fuck.” I groaned and went to rub my forehead to alleviate the headache, only to realize my arm was unable to move.

“You’re braced for a few weeks until the stitches heal better. Bullet did a number on your insides, nicked your intestines on the way, slammed through muscle and tissue before getting stuck. But you’ll be fine with some rest and rehab.”

“Is Addi okay?”

“She wasn’t hurt, but she’s not in a good place, and I don’t say that to worry you, but just so you know how to help her. She’s not sleeping. If she drifts off, she says it’s all her fault. You should know that…the guilt.”

Of course she’d feel that. That night had been a disaster, and we’d lost good men. None of it was her damn fault, but of course she’d think that. We had all been there to keep her safe.

At least we’d done that.

“Cort? How’s he?”

“Better than you. Bullet went right through him. He’s headed home tomorrow, and his sister is here with him. And Briggs wasn’t injured at all. I’ll fill you in on what I’ve learned later.”

There was too much too process, too many drugs in my veins to make sense of things, and I was having a hard time formulating the questions.

“All right,” I finally managed to slur out, sleep pulling me back under.

“I’ll call Addi. She’ll want to know you’re up.”

“Wait twenty minutes. Give her time to eat.”

I knew her—she’d rush right back to me, and I might have been drugged and in pain, but Addi’s health and well-being would always come first.

My eyes grew heavy and I closed them, feeling the darkness slip in and pull me down. Still, I managed to mutter, “Call the therapist for her.”

I was pretty certain I got Jaxon’s confirmation before I was asleep again.

* * *

The next timeI woke was easier, quicker, and slightly less painful, which meant on a scale of one to a hundred of pain, I was currently at a seventy-eight instead of a ninety-two.

Still, it was better, and I breathed in coconuts and cherries, smiling when I recognized the silken hair and soft skin brushing against my forearm and palm.

“Addi,” I whispered, and she jumped, immediately crying out.

“Shawn?”

“Yeah, honey.” I cleared my throat and opened my eyes to see her blurred, beautiful face—all three of them. “Beautiful,” I whispered and tried to reach for her, only to feel her hand clasping mine and my other still immobile.

Shit, the brace. I’d forgotten.

Addi lifted my hand and pressed it to her wet cheek, tears streaming, her hand holding mine to her. “You’re awake. I was so worried. So scared.”

“I’m good,” I grunted out and cringed.

“Here. Hold on.” She leaned back and reached for a cup. “The nurse told me to give you ice chips as soon as you woke up. Said your mouth and throat would be dry.”

I tried to grin as she babbled, brushing away tears and trying to be strong. I was more alert, in pain but feeling well-rested like I’d slept for a month.

If she needed to take care of me, I’d let her. And then I’d turn the tables and be the man she needed and loved.

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