Page 68 of Merciless
And it really was a perfect idea. Reaper loved his community, this camaraderie and sense of brotherhood, more than anything else.
I scanned the small room as people chatted and caught up with each other like it was any other day. Slick shuffled playing cards on the table and more people started pulling drinks out of the cooler. The only ones this party was missing were...
"Room for three more?" T-Bone's gruff voice cut through the noise as the three Sons of Odin maneuvered their way into the room.
"Sons!" I shrieked, tearing up again at the sight of them. Now it was a party.
The three of them came straight for me, T-Bone reaching me first as he swept me up into a bone-crushing hug.
"Knew you could do it, little lady," he whispered before planting a kiss on my cheek.
"Hey, hands off my wife!" Gunner called from the corner.
"As long as I get to put 'em on you next, pretty boy." T-Bone laughed as he set me down and cut through the crowd, heading straight for Gunner.
After hugs from Dyno and Grudge, I went back to Reaper's bedside and took his hand.
"Come on, love," I whispered, bringing his fingers to my lips. "You're going to be so mad if you miss this."
Everyone else in the room became background noise as I rubbed his palm and kissed each of his fingertips. My eyes never left his face, searching for any sign of awakeness.
He remained still in his bed, and when one of my men came up to rub my back, I reluctantly let go of Reaper's hand to let it rest next to his side.
Twenty-Seven
MARIPOSA
Another day passed. Then two more. And then a week.
Reaper did not wake up.
His body continued to heal quickly, I wondered if it was due to lingering effects from the pulse of power Freyja left with me. I hadn't seen or felt the goddess since the fortress.
After nearly two weeks, Reaper looked mostly normal. Most of his stitches and casts had been removed, the injuries fading to scars. His beard started growing out in that time and I had shaved his face twice. But not once did I see those eyes crack open.
My other three continued to spend the nights in his room with me, going about their different duties throughout the day, but always having meals and spending the evening with Reaper and I.
Others checked in daily too, usually Reaper's parents and mine. Finn and Lis moved back to their house to give us some space. My mom and dad were falling back into their old banter again—teasing each other and being all cute and affectionate. I wish I could say I was happy for them, happy to have my family back together. But a key piece of my happiness was missing.
My emotional state was all over the place. I'd put on a cheery mood when someone came to visit, then collapse into tears at Reaper's bedside when they left. I went from hopeful to deeply depressed and back again so many times. I questioned if it was cruel to hold onto him like this.
Dr. Brooks, and every other doctor he consulted, simply did not have answers for me. Reaper wasn't on life support. He wasn't brain dead. The possibility of talking to my husband again was greater than zero, so I kept waiting.
And waiting.
It was only my mom with me today—Dad was off doing something with the guys. I wasn't in the mood to talk, which Mom thankfully understood. Dad knew how to listen to me, Mom knew how to keep the silence away.
"We had dinner with Finn and Lis last night," she was telling me. "They're lovely, I think Javi and I will be good friends with them. They told us stories about when Rory and his sister were young, and their youngest boy too."
"Daren," I said without looking at her.
"Yes, all three of them; bright, feisty kids from the sounds of it." Distantly, I felt Mom squeeze my hand. "I'm glad you had them around, sweet pea. Everyone we met here is so kind and supportive. Oh! We met the governor and his daughter too, did I tell you that?"
"No," I said flatly.
Mom continued to talk, making pleasant background noise while I studied Reaper's face. The strong column of his throat, his jaw, and his lips were just as beautiful as ever. His left cheekbone had been shattered and had to be carefully reconstructed over several hours. No one would be able to tell now, except for the new scar under his eye.
His hair was growing back from being shaved to address his head wounds. More new scars lined his scalp and forehead. Scans showed no lingering brain damage, but Dr. Brooks wanted to keep checking for several months, even after he woke up. We never really knew how the head trauma would affect him until we saw symptoms. It could be memory loss, balance issues, or even personality changes.
