Page 112 of 23 Hours

Let’s hope it’s a good one.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE

GUNZ

Monitors beep quietly. The cuff around my bicep tightens. Everything’s heavy—my skin, bones, teeth. Fighting against sleep, my eyelid cracks open, one and then the next. Pale light seeps through the slits as I dampen my dry lips with the sweep of my tongue.

“You’re one stubborn asshole,” a familiar voice complains.

Ejecting a heavy breath, I blink.

“You hear me?”

Yes, I hear you, fucker.

Another blink—difficult and slow.

My surroundings take what feels like decades to focus.

Lulling my head to the side, a large form stands near me. His hand cuffs over the plastic railing of my bed. I look down at the giant, sausage-sized fingers, and the light dusting of hair on his knuckles.

Blink.

“You with us?”

I groan in response, phlegm caught in my throat.

I’m alive.

With every pump of my heart, heaviness bears down like gravity. The harder I try to stay awake, the powers at be work against me. Unable to stop them, my eyelids wilt. In the darkness, I’m alone, in the recesses of my own mind. In my own body. A first in over a month. To test the theory, I draw memories of Niki to the surface. Happy ones. Of our sex-sharing days. Before the emotional crap. When it was fun. When the only thing I worried about was Bink, the club, and endless days of fucking.

Wearing a crop top and boner-inducing daisy-duke shorts, she smiles at me.

I smile back.

Then I release the thought. It goes along with the woman, fizzling to nothingness.

I’m free.

Finally fucking free.

Melting into my bed, no longer bogged down by the past, I let go. Of her. Of the drinking. Of my mom. Of my father. Of… all the fucked-up bullshit I let stand in my way and hold me back. All of it. I can’t live like this anymore.

Where has it gotten me?

In a bed. In a hospital room. Recovering from wounds. And I’m not talkin’ about the bullet or the infection. That’s nothing more than a physical injury I’ve survived before.

Crackin’ a single eye open, I search out my brother, who, no doubt, has been livin’ here since they brought me back to recover. He’s an overprotective one. Not that I don’t get it. Despite all the shit I give him, I’d do the same for Big. We’ve been through a lot over the years.

When I can’t see him, I grumble, my mouth as dry as the Sahara.

“You need somethin’?” Big stands, so we can see each other.

“Her,” I rasp.

“You want your woman?”

I nod the best I can. It’s slow and takes a shit ton of effort.

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