Page 113 of 23 Hours

I don’t want her. I need her. Now. I need to apologize. To make amends. To fix the past six weeks. She needs to know how sorry I am. That I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back. To bring her home.

She’s mine.

And it’s about damn time she knows it.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX

KIT

Following the club president through an endless maze of monochromatic hallways, we stop beyond Gunz’s hospital door. Nobody has been permitted inside except Big and medical personnel. President’s orders. It’s been three days since Gunz’s surgery. Three days since he woke the first time, and he’s been fading in and out of consciousness ever since.

For those three days, I’ve slept sitting up in a hospital waiting room, and only left twice to shower and check on Chibs. Jez and her little ones are doing a bang-up job keeping him company. Turns out, our bat-eared boy loves kids. More specifically, the human snacks they keep feeding him. Our Frenchie has become a cucumber and cheese stick slut, or so I’ve heard.

Opening the door like a gentleman, Big waves for me to go inside. Bowing my head in silent appreciation, I do as I’m told. Sitting up with the help of his hospital bed, Gunz watches me enter the room. Skin paler than usual, scruff extra sexy, he’s wearing a blue gown that makes his already attractive eyes pop. There’s a white blanket strewn over his legs and pillows behind his head. Sock-covered toes with those little grippies on the bottom peek out from beneath the covers.

Tracking my every move, his smile’s lopsided and tired as I approach. He pats the bed for me to sit. I perch on the edge, my butt nudging his leg.

“I’ve missed you,” he says. Stealing one of my hands, he sandwiches it between his own. Warmth encases not only my skin but my heart. He’s alive. Breathing. Here. Looking right at me.

“I missed you, too.” I sigh, happy to be present and see him face-to-face. I didn’t know how much I needed this.

Gunz strokes the inside of my wrist with the pad of his thumb. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply honestly. It’s been a long week, and he’s been through a lot.

Frowning at my words, a crease forms between Gunz’s brow as he growls, “It’s sure as fuck not.”

“You need to focus on getting better. The rest will work itself out.” If he’s healthy and on the mend, that’s all I care about. Adam has been sick with worry, as have most of the brotherhood. The rest doesn’t matter in the scheme of things. It was a fleeting moment in life. A mere blip. I’m not excusing his behavior. We’ve both made mistakes. Life is about learning from them. Growing and not living in the past. I know that’s far easier said than done.

Accepting my words at face value, Gunz says nothing as he tugs my arm up to place my palm on his heart, just over the hospital gown. Both of his hands lay on mine, holding it in place. Our gazes catch, and there we pause. His chest rises, and I breathe along with him, somehow in sync. An affectionate smirk hooks at the corner of his mouth, and he shakes his head. “You’re somethin’ else, love… Will you marry me?”

Will I… What?

Will I… Do… What?!

Replaying what he said, my eyes widen to the size of tractor tires.Will you marry me?

What is happening?

With his heart beating wildly beneath my touch, even faster than my own, I sputter a frantic and not-so-cute, “Wh-what?!”

Amused by this, the sexy-as-fuck man has the goddamn audacity to laugh. At me. At my reaction. As if asking someone to marry them is a normal, everyday request. As if I wasn’t scared out of my mind the past three days, wallowing in my own guilt for leaving. The bastard takes it a step further and pats my hand as if that’s somehow going to calm my nerves. To take the cake, he smiles as he does it.

“Love.” Gunz pauses a beat to rein in a chuckle. It’s a half-assed attempt because one still slips out. “I didn’t stutter. I said, will you marry me?” There goes that smile again. Wider this time.

Ugh.

Why’s he doing this? I don’t even know what to say.

“Erik… I—”

He interrupts me. “Is that a no?”

Not knowing much of any-damn-thing, I massage the center of my forehead and breathe, so I don’t end up hyperventilating. “That’s a…ugh… we’ve been through a lot… um… you’re in the hospital. Let’s focus on that.” I wanna focus on normal life stuff. Like getting to know each other better and getting back on the track we were on after the warehouse.

Not on the same page as me, his firm, “No,” brooks no room for argument. “My head’s better now, and I know what I want. I’ve known what I want for a long time now. I want you in my bed. In my life. Ridin’ on the back of my bike, on my face and my cock, for the rest of our lives.”

Oh. Boy.

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