Page 67 of Damascus & The Wildfire
Merrick wiped away tears from my cheek. “It was in no way your fault.”
“He’s right,” Reaper added from across the room. “This is the third bike Hatchet’s wrecked in as many years. He’s impulsive and reckless as hell.”
Eva crouched so we were eye level. “Stop catastrophizing. Merci said he’s OK.”
My shoulders shook with a silent sob, and Merrick’s arms locked around me like iron, holding me in place until I could breathe again.
“We’re heading home,” Eva said after a beat. “I’ll pick up Brisket and take him to our place for the night.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, forcing my voice not to crack. “Be sure to grab his dinner. He’s probably starving by now.”
Hours crawled by. Around midnight, Merrick’s phone buzzed with a message from Merci: Hatchet was out of surgery. Relief punched through my chest.
I drifted off after that, waking to the murmur of low voices and the faint rustle of magazine pages. Merrick’s heavy leather jacket was draped over me. Across the room, he stood with Merci, whispering.
“Is he OK?” I rasped.
Merrick helped me to my feet and settled the jacket over my shoulders, the weight of it grounding me.
“He’s awake,” Merrick confirmed. “We’ll come back in the morning during visiting hours.”
I glanced at Merci for confirmation.
“He’s in good spirits. He’s already trying to flirt with the nurses,” she said with a laugh.
“See?” Merrick murmured, brushing a thumb along my cheek. “Hatchet’s fine. Let’s go home. Get a few hours’ sleep.”
“Home?” Merci asked. “You live together?”
I smirked at Merrick. “I haven’t even been to his house yet. For all I know, it’s a gross bachelor pad.”
Merci laughed. “It’s more sterile than the OR. My brother is a clean freak.”
“Oh, I’m certainly a freak,” Merrick murmured. He nuzzled my ear. “In the sheets.”
Merci wrinkled her nose. “Gross. I’m leaving.”
Merrick threw his head back and laughed, the deep rumble echoing through the waiting room.
Merci stilled for just a second. “Now that’s a sound I haven’t heard in a long time. It was nice to meet you, Kenna.”
Merrick didn’t say much on the drive back, but he never let go of my hand. His thumb traced slow circles over my knuckles as the headlights cut through the dark Texas night. Instead of pulling into the main lot of the clubhouse, he took a turn down a long drive, the truck rocking over the ruts until a lodge-like house appeared out of the shadows.
“I expected something more rustic,” I said. “This looks like a vacation home.”
Merrick shrugged. “It’s a benefit of working for the club. Thane likes to have me on site, so they built this a few years ago.”
Inside, log walls and high ceilings greeted me. The scent of cedar lingered in the air. The space was open and organized—everything in its place, nothing left lying around.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said quietly, hanging his keys on a hook by the door. “Visiting hours start at ten.”
“Can I take a shower first?”
“It’s connected to the bedroom through that door. Towels are in the cupboard on the left.”
I closed the door behind me and released a ragged sigh. I needed a moment to let myself fall apart. I twisted the knob until hot water sprayed across the tiles, and steam billowed out from the enclosed glass shower. I pulled my dress over my head and dropped my panties to the ground before stepping inside.
The heat of the water hit my shoulders, and the first sob ripped out before I could stop it. After hours of holding it in, my chest finally caved under the weight of it. I pressed my hands to the tile and let the steam blur my vision.
