Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The group of us sat in the waiting room, each of us lost to our own thoughts while time crawled. The faint scuffing of nurses’ shoes sounded through the hallway, and monitors beeped in the distance.
My mind looped the same image over and over—Hatchet tearing out of the parking lot after what I’d said to him. My stomach churned. I kept thinking about what could have happened. The worst case. And how much of it might be my fault.
Choosing Merrick had almost cost my friend his life
Eva appeared in front of me and held out a paper cup. “Stop beating yourself up,” she said gently.
I kept my gaze trained on the floor and wrapped my hands around the thin cup, savoring the burn and the bitter steam curling into my face. “It’s my fault,” I murmured.
Merrick’s heavy, sure footsteps approached. His presence hovered above me before he lifted me from my seat and tugged me into his lap. “Breathe, Wildfire. This isn’t on you. Look at me.”
I tore my face from his chest and gazed into his eyes.
Merrick wiped away tears from my cheek. “It was in no way your fault.”
“He’s right,” Reaper added from across the room. “This is the third bike Hatchet’s wrecked in as many years. He’s impulsive and reckless as hell.”
Eva crouched so we were eye level. “Stop catastrophizing. Merci said he’s OK.”
My shoulders shook with a silent sob, and Merrick’s arms locked around me like iron, holding me in place until I could breathe again.
“We’re heading home,” Eva said after a beat. “I’ll pick up Brisket and take him to our place for the night.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, forcing my voice not to crack. “Be sure to grab his dinner. He’s probably starving by now.”
Hours crawled by. Around midnight, Merrick’s phone buzzed with a message from Merci: Hatchet was out of surgery. Relief punched through my chest.
I drifted off after that, waking to the murmur of low voices and the faint rustle of magazine pages. Merrick’s heavy leather jacket was draped over me. Across the room, he stood with Merci, whispering.
“Is he OK?” I rasped.
Merrick helped me to my feet and settled the jacket over my shoulders, the weight of it grounding me.
“He’s awake,” Merrick confirmed. “We’ll come back in the morning during visiting hours.”
I glanced at Merci for confirmation.
“He’s in good spirits. He’s already trying to flirt with the nurses,” she said with a laugh.
“See?” Merrick murmured, brushing a thumb along my cheek. “Hatchet’s fine. Let’s go home. Get a few hours’ sleep.”
“Home?” Merci asked. “You live together?”
I smirked at Merrick. “I haven’t even been to his house yet. For all I know, it’s a gross bachelor pad.”
Merci laughed. “It’s more sterile than the OR. My brother is a clean freak.”
“Oh, I’m certainly a freak,” Merrick murmured. He nuzzled my ear. “In the sheets.”
Merci wrinkled her nose. “Gross. I’m leaving.”
Merrick threw his head back and laughed, the deep rumble echoing through the waiting room.
Merci stilled for just a second. “Now that’s a sound I haven’t heard in a long time. It was nice to meet you, Kenna.”
Merrick didn’t say much on the drive back, but he never let go of my hand.
His thumb traced slow circles over my knuckles as the headlights cut through the dark Texas night.
Instead of pulling into the main lot of the clubhouse, he took a turn down a long drive, the truck rocking over the ruts until a lodge-like house appeared out of the shadows.
“I expected something more rustic,” I said. “This looks like a vacation home.”
Merrick shrugged. “It’s a benefit of working for the club. Thane likes to have me on site, so they built this a few years ago.”
Inside, log walls and high ceilings greeted me. The scent of cedar lingered in the air. The space was open and organized—everything in its place, nothing left lying around.
“Let’s get some sleep,” he said quietly, hanging his keys on a hook by the door. “Visiting hours start at ten.”
“Can I take a shower first?”
“It’s connected to the bedroom through that door. Towels are in the cupboard on the left.”
I closed the door behind me and released a ragged sigh.
I needed a moment to let myself fall apart.
I twisted the knob until hot water sprayed across the tiles, and steam billowed out from the enclosed glass shower.
I pulled my dress over my head and dropped my panties to the ground before stepping inside.
The heat of the water hit my shoulders, and the first sob ripped out before I could stop it. After hours of holding it in, my chest finally caved under the weight of it. I pressed my hands to the tile and let the steam blur my vision.
I’d been terrified to lose Hatchet. Even though whatever romantic feelings I thought I might have for him had dissipated, he’d become one of my closest friends since moving.
I had no words for the terror that shot through me when I heard he’d been in an accident and the lingering fear that choked me as I continued to worry.
The thought of losing him—of another funeral, another goodbye, another hole in my heart—clawed inside my chest.
By the time the water began to cool, my body felt wrung out.
I wrapped myself in a towel and cursed under my breath when I realized I had nothing to change into.
A quick rummage through the dark oak dresser turned up a soft, worn T-shirt.
I slipped it over my head, the hem falling mid-thigh. It smelled faintly like Merrick.
I padded out to the kitchen. Merrick stood, staring out the window into the night sky.
“Hey,” I said softly, brushing my hand on his back.
He turned, and for the first time all night, the mask was gone. The guarded control he’d worn at the hospital had slipped, letting me see the worry lining his face.
“Hatchet’s going to be OK,” I assured him.
He scrubbed his face with his palm. “The man has cheated death more times than I can count. One of these days Merci’s going to call me from the ER to tell me I have to bury my best friend.”
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him it wouldn’t happen. Because we both knew it could. We’d both watched accidents rip away people we loved in a heartbeat.
I yawned as the heaviness of the night settled over me.
“Let’s go to bed,” I suggested.
He led me toward the back, into the bedroom. “Not exactly how I pictured our first night,” he grumbled as he pulled back the covers.
I slid in, the sheets crisp against my flushed skin.
He stood at the edge of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head.
In the soft light, his tattoos looked darker.
The strong black lines coiled over muscle and scars.
His jeans hit the floor, and my breath hitched.
Despite my exhaustion, every nerve in my body lit up as he slipped under the sheets beside me.
His arm circled my waist as he pulled me flush against his chest. His nose tucked into the curve of my neck, warm breath feathering my skin. The scent of leather and his cologne clung to his skin.
And despite everything—Hatchet’s accident, the fear, the adrenaline—I fell asleep fast, surrounded by the solid weight of him.
I woke to cool sheets and an empty pillow where Merrick had been, his faint scent filling the air around me.
The kitchen was still. A lukewarm, half-drunk cup of coffee sat abandoned beside the carafe. I dumped it in the sink, filling the cup with hot coffee, and carried it to sit at the table beside the large picture window.
Outside, a squirrel darted across the wooded yard, scattering a few startled birds from the rustic feeder. Their chirps and flutters were the only music in the quiet lodge. I sipped the bitter coffee and let my mind drift.
The low rumble of Merrick’s truck cut through the stillness. I stayed seated, watching the door as the sound of a code punching in echoed, followed by the creak of hinges.
He filled the frame of the doorway before stepping inside, holding a hot-pink polka dot duffel bag.
My brows rose, but I kept sipping. “Is that mine?”
“I thought you might want a change of clothes,” he said casually. “Found it in your closet.”
He set it on the table like it was no big deal. I stood and unzipped it, sorting through the clothes. Jeans. T-shirt. A dress. Then—
I held up a lacy black thong by one finger and grinned. “You went through my panties?”
“They were the first ones I grabbed,” he claimed.
“Liar.” I laughed. “Those were at the back. I never wear them. That lace is so uncomfortable.”
He didn’t flinch at being caught. Instead, he reached in and pulled out a set of silky red boy shorts and—fuck—a pair of cotton panties patterned with tiny T-rexes.
“I grabbed a few that I want you to wear for me,” he said with a half grin. “I’ve never seen a woman in dinosaur underwear.”
Heat flushed my cheeks. I snatched them from his hands. “I’m still deciding how I feel about you going through my clothes before you’ve even seen me out of them.”
I went to walk away, bag in hand, but he caught my wrist and spun me before I could take a step. In one move, I was seated on the table before him, the wood cool against my thighs.
“We can change that,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear.
His hands skimmed up the bare skin beneath the oversized T-shirt I’d borrowed.
He traced my curves as he pressed his lips to mine.
The air shifted with the promise of pleasure as he ran a hand up my thigh. He paused when he realized I was bare.
“Wildfire,” he growled as his mouth claimed mine. I melted into him, my anxious thoughts drowned out by the delicious ache of desire.
Then his phone shattered the moment.
Merrick glanced at the caller ID and sighed as he stepped away to answer.
“Prez,” he said in a flat, professional tone, greeting Thane without a hello. He shot me an apologetic glance as he stepped outside the front door. He didn’t have to explain. Club business.
I rolled my eyes and slid off the table, taking the duffel to the bedroom. Dumping it out across the bed, I started to sort through the pile and froze.
Nestled between a few tank tops and my favorite pair of jeans was my vibrator.
My hand flew to my mouth. Shit. I’d left it out on the bathroom counter yesterday morning to dry, so Merrick hadn’t just tossed it in. He’d found the case in my nightstand, handled it, and packed it in my bag.
Heat flashed through my core, pooling low and deep as I imagined those big, tattooed hands examining the suction at the tip before curling the flexible base into the clamshell case. I pressed my thighs together and swore under my breath.
I shook my head to clear it as I heard the front door close. I’d figure out what to do about that thought later. I shoved the rest of the clothes back into the bag and picked a T-shirt and jeans for the day, stuffing the rest on top of the toy to deal with later.
I slipped into the bathroom to change, brushing my teeth and pulling my hair up into a messy bun. When I stepped out, I collided straight into Merrick’s chest. His hands caught my shoulders automatically, steadying me.
“Merci texted. Hatchet’s awake.”
Relief loosened something inside me, but the tension in his jaw still hadn’t fully eased, stress still tightening the corners of his eyes.
“How’s he doing?”
Merrick shrugged. “She said he’s OK. In a bit of pain, but the doctors are optimistic.”
“That’s good,” I said, searching his face. “Can he eat yet? We should grab him something to eat. Maybe those breakfast tacos he loves.”
“A peace offering?” he asked in a sharp tone. “Sorry Kenna chose me, but here’s a taco?”
I flinched. I could see how Hatchet might take it that way, though it wasn’t my intent.
Regret flashed over Merrick’s face as he took in my pained expression. “Shit. That was out of line,” he admitted. “I just … don’t know how he’s going to take it when I walk through that door.”
I bit my lip, sucking in a breath through the heaviness in my chest. “It’s fine. Let’s just get over there.”
I grabbed my purse off the counter and turned to head to the door. His hand hooked my arm, turning me back to face him.
“Don’t do that. Don’t say it’s fine when it isn’t. And don’t brush it off when I fuck up. That wasn’t fair to you.”
I blinked at him, feeling the crack in my chest widen. “I don’t want to come between you and him. Maybe it’s better if we all just … stay friends. I can’t be the reason—”
Merrick interrupted me with a kiss, gripping my shoulders tight. “You’re not the reason he’s in the hospital. Like you told me last night, he was blindsided. Hatchet’s never been a relationship guy. And you didn’t feel that way about him. Right?”
“But—”
“Let’s table it,” he cut in gently. “Let me talk to him first. I’ll text Merci and see what he can eat. Donuts from Maisie’s, tacos from his favorite place. If there’s a way to soften the blow, it’s with food. Man thinks with his stomach and his dick in equal measure.”
A corner of my mouth twitched upward.
He kissed me again. “I really am sorry.”
I let out a shaky sigh. “I know. Let’s go.”
Silence filled the cab of Merrick’s truck. The pink donut box sat warm in my lap while I downed a latte with a triple shot of espresso from Maisie’s. Merrick drove with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping restlessly against his thigh until we made the stop for tacos without a word.
When we walked into the hospital, Merci waited outside Hatchet’s room.
“I just finished my shift,” she said, looking between us. “Kenna, why don’t you join me in the café for some coffee? Give the guys a minute alone.”
I glanced at Merrick. He gave a terse nod as he reached for the tacos and donuts.
I followed Merci down the hall, glancing back once to see him pacing outside Hatchet’s room. He rolled his shoulders like he was loosening up for a cage fight, before finally squaring himself and walking through the door.