“So have you, and you’re suffering along with him.”
“And you’re doing the same with me.” I pushed up onto my tiptoes and kissed his jaw, then stepped back. “Thank you.”
He handed me the coffee. “I brought some things for you—a change of clothes, your cell and tablet, bathroom stuff.”
I knew his thoughtfulness had to come at a price—literally. After a weekend away, he should be digging his way out of a small mountain of work worth millions, not running around taking care of me. “God. I love you.”
“Eva!” My mother’s startled exclamation made me wince. She advocated withholding the words I love you until the wedding night.
“Sorry, Mom. Can’t help it.”
Gideon brushed coffee-warmed fingertips down my cheek.
“Gideon,” my mother began, coming up right beside us, “you should know better than to take Eva away without any means of calling for help. You do know better.”
She was clearly referring to my past. I wasn’t sure why she thought I was so delicate that I couldn’t function on my own. She was far more fragile.
I shot a sympathetic glance Gideon’s way.
He held out the bag he’d brought for me, the calm and confident look on his face conveying his total comfort in dealing with my mother. So I left him to it. I didn’t have it in me to deal with her until I’d caffeinated myself.
I slipped back into Cary’s room and found him awake. Just the sight of him made the tears well and my throat close up tight. He was such a strong and vibrant man, so full of life and mischief. It was the worst pain to see him looking so broken.
“Hey,” he muttered. “Quit the waterworks every time you see me. Makes me feel like I’m gonna die or something.”
Hell. He was right. My tears didn’t do him any good. Instead, what little relief they gave me just put more of the burden on him. I needed to be a better friend than that.
“I can’t help it,” I said, sniffling. “It sucks. Someone beat me to it and kicked your ass before I could.”
“Is that right?” His scowl faded. “What’d I do now?”
“You didn’t tell me about Brett and Six-Ninths.”
“Oh yeah . . .” A bit of his old sparkle came back into his eyes. “How’d he look?”
“Good. Really good.” Very hot, but I kept that thought to myself. “Although right now, he might not look much better than you.”
I told him about the kiss and the resulting fight.
“Cross threw down, huh?” Cary shook his head, then winced and stopped. “Taking on Brett took guts—he’s a barroom brawler who loves a good fight.”
“And Gideon is a trained mixed martial artist.” I began digging through the bag Gideon had brought. “Why didn’t you tell me Captive Soul had signed with a major label?”
“Because you didn’t need to fall into that hole again. There are girls who can date rock stars; you’re not one of them. All that time on the road, all those groupies . . . You’d drive yourself and him insane.”
I shot him a look. “I’m in total agreement with you. But I’m insulted that you’d think I’d run back to him just because he made it big.”
“That’s not why. I didn’t want you to hear their first single if it could be helped.”
“‘Golden’?”
“Yeah . . .” He studied me as I headed toward the bathroom. “What’d you think of it?”
“It’s better than a song titled ‘Tapped That.’”
“Ha!” He waited until I came out again with my face washed and hair brushed. “So . . . you kissed him.”
“That’s the beginning and end of that story,” I said dryly. “Have you talked to Trey since Friday?”
“No. They’ve got my phone somewhere. My wallet, too, I’m guessing. When I came to, I was here, wearing this”—he pinched at his hospital gown—“freakin’ thing.”