CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Connor
R aina sleeps tucked into the blankets. Back in my bed, her breathing is finally steady, like nothing happened. I’ve been watching her for hours. I told myself I’d sleep once I knew she was okay.
But I can’t.
I keep seeing her eyes when she couldn’t get air. The panic. The way she looked strangled by something I couldn’t fight off.
I’ve handled gunfights. Explosions. Torture.
But this?
Watching her go down and not knowing how to save her?
It gutted me. I have to know more about her condition so I won’t be left dumbfounded to help her if this happens again.
I have no patience for Google and doom-scrolling.
My brothers think I’m a knuckle-dragging caveman with only death on the brain.
I’m smarter than they think. They overlook my hunger for knowledge.
My torture tunnel may signal I’m a madman who threw together tools of death and dismemberment, but each weapon was carefully curated.
Before Raina stole into my life, I spent hours down there, cleaning the tools with respect. Researching others and how to effectively use them to maximize pain and damage while minimizing blood.
Faced with Raina’s health ailment I know nothing about, a condition that could kill the woman I’ve fallen for like a pallet of bricks, terrifies me. I almost fell apart today because I didn’t know what to do.
I text Cormac O’Rourke. Doctor O’Rourke.
Cormac answers my questions thoughtfully. Explains that an attack is like a hiccup of the lungs, but they stay contracted. The spray contains an agent that relaxes the muscles in the lungs, allowing the airways to stay open.
He tells me he’s ordering a pharmacy to deliver five inhalers to me today and that one inhaler should last almost six months. But he says to keep the others in different places in the house and my car. He must have told Trace, who’s his best friend, the same thing.
Finally, Cormac recommends that if Raina gets unprovoked attacks, she should consider seeing a specialist to go on daily medications.
One step at a time.
I want to be her daily medication.
An hour later, Raina stirs in my bed. Her eyes open, slow and heavy-lidded. Still a little glassy, but aware.
“You’re here,” she says softly. “Watching me.”
“Watching over you. Not the same thing.” I brush the hair away from her bright green eyes. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Her gaze flicks to the inhaler on the nightstand. “Was it bad?”
I hesitate. I don’t want to scare her. Don’t want to pile fear on top of whatever the hell that was. But I also can’t lie to her.
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice low. “It was fucking bad, Raina.”
She closes her eyes for a beat. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Her eyes snap open. “I’m—”
“You don’t apologize for being sick, for something you can’t control.”
She swallows, her throat working. But her voice is barely there when she says, “It’s not always that bad. I have it under control. It’s just...stress.”
I sit down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to explain. But you should’ve told me.”
“I didn’t want to be—”
“Weak?” I cut her off. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever been with. That doesn’t mean you have to go through everything alone.”
Her fingers reach for mine. They’re cold. Small. But they grip me in an alarmingly tight hold. “I didn’t think you’d care.”
Her words crack my chest. She’s breaking my fucking heart.
“I do care,” I say, hiding the hurt. “God, I wish I didn’t. I wish I could treat you like other women I let walk away and didn’t give a flying fuck if I saw them again. But with you, I can’t . I care so much it’s unraveling me.”
She stares for a long moment. Then she whispers, “I’m unraveling, too, Connor. Because of you.”
“Christ, at least I’m not alone.” I press my lips to her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks. Gentle. Reverent. I’m grateful to get a second chance with the only woman who’s ever mattered.
No more pretending. No more keeping my distance. I feel the crack in my heart seal shut as I make this commitment to myself. Raina and I said the words we needed to say. This is all we need right now. I won’t push us into something we’re not ready for.
Then she says words that are music to my ears. “I’m hungry.”
I brush a soft kiss against her lips. “Are you up to going out for a late breakfast?”
“Out?” She swallows. “Is that safe?”
“You’re always safe with me.”
Sitting up, her color has returned, and she looks so much better. “I need to go to my apartment after we eat. ”
“For what?” I stand to my full height, the muscles in my bare chest flexing, worried she wants to go home.
“For my clothes, if you’re going to keep me here.”
I smile, relaxing. “I’ll buy you new clothes.”
“My clothes are fine.”
“Says the woman in a man’s T-shirt with her riot gear crumbled into a ball on the floor of my bedroom.”