Page 80 of The Baby-whisperer and the Brute
Four hours later, I stood in the driveway of Sully’s home with Skyla and Claire, watching the EMT’s unload him on a stretcher.
My insides vibrated with excitement and also a bit of fear. On one hand, it felt like I was getting my “family” back. The reunion with the girls at the airport had been joyful.
On the other, I had no idea what to expect from Sully.
Would he ask me to stay here and take care of his daughters a while longer, or would he want me to vacate the house as planned and make other arrangements for their care?
As the attendants wheeled him closer, it became apparent he was in no condition to make any decisionsorany phone calls. I stifled a gasp at his broken appearance.
Sully looked as if he was wearing a purple eye mask, both eyes horribly swollen and ringed with dark bruises. A butterfly bandage held his left eyebrow together. His right jaw was also discolored and swollen.
He wore no shirt, only a wrap around his ribcage, and on the left side of his chest near his shoulder there was a grapefruit-sized bruise so dark it nearly hid his tattoo.
My heart squeezed hard, seeing him so hurt. Cinda had been absolutely right—Iwasin love with him.
All I wanted was to take care of Sully, make him better, to give him anything and everything he needed and be there in whatever capacity he needed for as long as he wanted me to.
Worries about my own future were superseded by a determination to make sure the girls were comforted and cared for—and that Sully was restored to full health.
There was a possibility he would never be the same again physically, and that would be okay too. It wouldn’t change the way I felt about him.
I wanted him... in sickness or in health.
I wanted him just the way he was—forever.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Always a Choice
Sully
Everything hurt.
I lay in bed, aching from head to toe. In the past I’d compared the twelve rounds of a boxing match to being in twelve car accidents.
The fight with Travis Diggs had been more like being run over by twelve Mac trucks. I was actually a little surprised I’d survived it.
My body was a full buffet of pain, the variety of it dazzling. Some of it was dull like a series of throbbing headaches under my skin. Some was sharp, especially around my cracked ribs.
I probably should have still been in the hospital—my doctor hadn’t wanted me to leave so soon.
All I’d wanted was to be home. To be away from all the questions and prying eyes and well-meaning words of encouragement.
To be alone with my pain. My failure.
Now I wondered if I’d made a mistake insisting on recovering at home. The only thing worse than being poked and prodded by the hospital staff was being cared for by Angelina.
“Hi. You awake?”
The soft, feminine voice came from my bedroom doorway, triggering an involuntary surge of pleasure and longing. Angelina slipped into the room like a beautiful ghost, tiptoeing silently to my bedside.
My response was a grunted, “NowI am.”
I knew I was a horrible patient. Grouchy when I should have been grateful, complaining when I should have kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t seem to help myself.
I hated lying in bed, doing nothing all day, hated being sohelpless.I hadn’t been this needy since I was a child.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
