Hunter gave me a lift home, and I grabbed a quick shower and a change of clothes while Shy’s parents sat with her.
I returned with a bag for her to an uneasy truce with her folks, and Shy still asleep.
After they left, I dragged a seat to her bedside, curled my hand around hers, and finally closed my eyes.
I was conked out in one of those lumpy hospital chairs, a blanket tossed over me, when I felt someone flittering their fingers through my hair.
Instantly alert, I shot up.
“Shy?” my voice croaked out.
Her cheeks creased with a weary smile, and her short hair was sleep-mussed.
I helped her sit up and held a fresh cup of ice water so she could drink from the straw.
“My mom and dad came?”
“Yeah, baby.” I stroked a hand over her rumpled hair. “They didn’t want to wake you.”
“They let you stay?”
I glanced away. “Um. We had a few words. Came to an agreement.”
She gave a faint giggle, and the sound was never more appreciated.
“What did my dad say to you?”
“Things about murdering me?”
“Oh, Handsome.” Her hand drifted to my face. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was, Shy. We both know that.”
“It’s over now.” Her voice firmed up.
And we both knew it wasn’t really. The events of yesterday couldn’t just be brushed aside. Shy had been abused—physically, emotionally. She’d been used sexually.
I dipped my head down, resting my brow against hers.
We didn’t know what would happen with her knee, if she’d be able to keep it or not.
And there were still police statements to give. That motherfucking fuck Diablo to make sure never saw the light of day again.
Scooting gingerly onto the bed with Shy, I curled an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I whispered in a raw voice.
During the hours we’d slept, someone had been busy. Her room was filled with cards and flower arrangements and balloons.
The damn things looked too cheery for the trauma inflicted on Shy. But I knew the sentiment was genuine. I’d be surprised if most of the get-well gifts hadn’t come from Chrome and Steele and Retribution.
“How do you feel?” I asked Shy.
My heart clenched when small drops of tears trailed from the corners of her eyes.
She wiped them quickly away.
“Don’t do that, Shy. Don’t be brave for me.” I smoothed my hands up and down her arms.
“I feel like shit.” A tiny smile touched her lips. “But better with you here.”
“That’s good. ’Cause I’m not going anywhere.”
Shy turned on her side and I did, too.
Her face snuck into the crook of my neck.
“You smell good.” Gripping my shirt, she pulled me closer, and I wrapped her in my embrace.
We stayed like that for a long time.
Holding on.
Waiting for the pain to ebb.
Hoping she wouldn’t have to undergo another surgery.
Shy slept some more with me as her human pillow, exactly where I was happy to be.
She ate some food I had delivered as soon as she woke again, trying to pretend she had an appetite.
She checked her phone and started fretting about her shop and . . .
“Shy?” My heart thump-thump-thumped.
Placing down the cell, she looked up. “Yeah?”
I approached her, my palms suddenly damp.
“What is it?” She sat straighter.
Slipping onto the bed, I faced her. “I think . . . I mean I want . . .” I cleared my throat and took her hands in both of mine. “Will you marry me?”
She regarded me for a silent moment before breaking out into hysterical-sounding laughter. “Is this a joke?”
I frowned.
I shook my head slowly.
“No.”
Her laugh bubbled out again. “Marry you? Like this?”
I frowned harder.
“You had me going there for a second, Max.”
“Umm.” Unsure of what to do, I slipped to my feet, and my hands were definitely sweaty.
I wiped them on my jeans.
“If I get married, it’ll be in a wedding gown, not a hospital gown.”
“If?”
“When,” she stated.
“When?” I dropped back down on the bed, trying to contain my excitement.
“I will.”
“You will?” Sheer joy catapulted through me.
“On one condition.”
“Oh.” Glum.
“Talk to your parents. They’ve been asking about you,” she added.
“You should’ve been a lawyer,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Something your dad said. Now”—I snatched her to me, curling my body around hers—“kiss me.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Out of Depth
ONLY HOURS AFTER MY half-assed proposal to Shy, she developed a high fever.
What was left of her leg became infected because of the wounds.
I stood beside Shy’s folks as Dr. Haines and the nurses wheeled her to the OR. “I won’t amputate higher unless absolutely necessary. You have my word.”
Sitting with Thomas and Justine, a stoic expression on my face, all I wanted to do during the long wait was break down.
I brought us all coffee.
I watched the door.