“Nothing you wouldn’t do for me,” he said. I wasn’t sure of that though. A few years ago I would have agreed, but I’d changed since then. Maybe not for the better.
I eyed Nash who stood at the end of the bed scowling. He hadn’t said a word since arriving. Hell, he’d hardly spoken to me since I’d regained consciousness days ago except to express his anger again over the fact I’d put Carla in danger.
“I heard from King this morning,” Scott said, dragging my attention from Nash. “He said to tell you to get better fast, he’s got more work coming up for you soon.”
Nash rested his hands on the bed and bent forward. “You planning on sticking around or are you gonna do what you do best and walk away from everything and everyone?” His hard voice vibrated around the room as he glared at me waiting for my answer.
I shifted in the bed and winced at the pain that shot through my body. “Do I look like I’m able to leave anytime soon?” I threw back, my voice just as harsh as his.
“I’m thinking long-term and I’m wondering just how long you plan on letting Carla think you’re gonna stay.”
“And I’m just thinking about getting through my recovery,” I snapped. My chest tightened at the same time my pulse quickened.
I don’t want to think about this.
“Let’s just take one thing at a time,” Scott suggested, his forehead creasing in a frown as he looked at Nash.
Nash pushed off from the end of the bed and took a step back, still glaring at me. “You need to get your shit figured out, Havoc, and fast because Carla’s investing herself in you now. She’s been at this fuckin’ hospital day in and day out, and she’s put her new job on hold all that time.” He raked his fingers through his hair before adding, “I knew this would fuckin’ happen!”
“Nothing has happened, Nash,” J said.
Nash threw his hand out in the air, gesturing at me while staring wildly at J. “Did you not see the way he wouldn’t commit to staying? That tells you every-fuckin-thing.”
“Coffee anyone?” We all turned to find Madison standing in the doorway holding four coffees.
“Thank fuck,” Scott muttered as he stalked to her.
Nash didn’t move. He remained at the end of the bed, his glare never leaving mine. No more words were exchanged but it was clear where we both stood.
The step forward we’d taken before I was stabbed had been erased and a step back had replaced it.
As much as he pissed me off, I knew he was right.
Carla was invested.
And I had to figure out my next move.
I wanted her in my life.
I just had to find out a way to make that work for both of us.
* * *
“Sit there and don’t move!”
I quirked a brow at Carla. “Bossy is fuckin’ hot on you, darlin’, but don’t get too used to it. Give me a week and I’ll be back to full strength.”
She placed her hand on her hip and hit me with a look that screamed her doubt. “Oh, really, Mr I’ve-Got-No-Fucking-Idea? The doctor said it will be around four weeks before you can even contemplate getting back on your bike, maybe longer. So I’m not sure how you think you’ll be back to your normal self in one week.”
I’d come home from hospital two days ago, a day after my father had also come home. Yvette had to go away for a week for work, so Carla had taken it upon herself to move in for the week to help Dad and me while we recovered. I hadn’t argued. The thought of having her with me twenty-four seven made me happy.
We were battling over my desire to help her cook dinner. I didn’t want her doing everything around the house, but that was exactly what she’d been doing for the past forty-eight hours.
I slid my hand around her waist and tried to pull her to me. Pain shot through my body and I did my best not to show it. When she moved closer, I said, “Do you really think it’s gonna take me that long to recover? Not fuckin’ likely.”
She placed her hands on my chest, being careful not to touch my wound and to only touch me very gently.
Fuck, she’s treating me with fucking kid gloves.
I hated that.
“Havoc, you’re not invincible. You have to let me help you for awhile.” Her voice was soft and reminded me that she was going through this too. I might have suffered the pain and would be the one to do the physical recovery, but she’d suffered the mental and emotional turmoil that went with it.
I dropped a kiss onto her lips. “Okay.”
Her eyes widened. “Why was that so easy?”
I chuckled. “Fuck knows.”
Dad entered the kitchen. “Is he giving you shit, sweetheart?”
Carla grinned. She and Dad hit it off the minute they met. They’d bonded over their mutual goal of making my life hell during my recovery. “He’s always giving me shit, Al.”
Dad nodded as he reached into the fridge for some juice. “Sounds like my son.”
I sat at the table where she’d told me to. “Pass me the potatoes. I’ll peel and chop them.”
“I’ve got this,” Carla said, clearly exasperated with me. “You just sit there and rest.”