Chapter 34
Tobias
“How are you feeling?” The feminine voice that pulls me from sleep is pleasant, but not right. “Are you in pain?”
“Who are you?” I lift my brows, trying to get my eyelids to rise along with them. I’m groggy in a way I’ve never been before and struggling to orient myself.
“You just came out of surgery. I’m your recovery nurse.” She sounds closer now as she repeats her earlier question. “Are you in pain?”
“Where’s Brooke?” I lick my dry lips, trying to work up some moisture in my mouth. “Is she okay?”
“Brooke is just fine.” The nurse laughs a little. “She’s asked the desk about you every fifteen minutes for the past four hours.”
I relax a little hearing she’s safe. “When can I see her?”
“As soon as you tell me how your pain level is and let me check your vitals.”
“My pain is fine.” I manage to get my eyes open, blinking a few times as I try to focus. “Hurry up and take my vitals.”
The nurse huffs out another laugh. “You two are a perfect pair, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” It’s the easiest answer I’ve ever given. “What can I do to speed this process up?”
Someone knocks on the door to the small room where I’m being held captive. It opens a crack and another female voice calls in. “She’s asking about him again.”
“Send her in.” I answer for the nurse, earning a glare while she clips an oximeter to my finger.
She sighs, rolling her eyes. “I think he’s fine for her to come back.”
I keep my eyes on the door while she runs through the rest of her process, checking my temperature, blood pressure, and pulse.
When it finally opens, I try to sit up, but the nurse must have anticipated it.
Her hand is on my shoulder, stopping my upward trajectory before it can even start.
“Slow down, Romeo.” She gently presses me back against the pillow.
“You just had to have your leg reassembled, so you’re going to want to pace yourself. ”
I don’t think she understands that I’ve been pacing myself for almost a decade. I don’t want to be without Brooke a single second longer than absolutely necessary.
And I don’t have to. Because she comes barreling in, makeup smudged, hair messy, wearing rumpled work clothes and a nervous smile. I swear I watch her exhale when she sees me, shoulders dropping as a little of the tension tightening her expression leaves her body.
“You’re awake.” She comes straight to my side, eyes moving over my body. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”
“I’m fine.” I give her the same answer I gave the nurse, lifting my arms to reach for her. “Come here.”
Again, my nurse shoots me down. “She cannot get in the bed with you. Especially not on that side.” One hand gestures at my elevated leg. “Like I just said, you just had to have that thing reassembled.”
Instead of climbing in with me the way I want, Brooke takes my hand, gripping it tight. “The surgeon said it went really well. That with physical therapy you should get full function back.”
I’m honestly not worried about my leg. I’m more worried about Brooke. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“We’ll have to talk about that later.” Her eyes dart to the nurse before coming back to me. “Do you remember what happened?”
I wrack my brain for memories, but come up pretty empty. “I remember the impact and trying to get out, but everything after that is pretty blurry.”
I do recollect enough to know my truck is probably totaled. But it did exactly what it was supposed to do—kept me and Walker intact.
Which reminds me.
“How’s Walker? Is he okay?”
Brooke nods, lifting my hand to her mouth so she can kiss my knuckles. “He needed a few stitches, but that’s it. They’ve already released him.”
“Good.” I thought it seemed like my side took the brunt of the impact, but hearing my cousin is better off than I am eases a little of the worry tugging at my gut. “What about the guy who hit us?” The words are barely out of my mouth before a little of the fog clears. “Fuck. Was it Matt?”
I’m not sure if I dreamed looking across the grass and seeing him bleeding and limp behind the wheel of the other car, or if it actually happened.
“No.” Brooke shakes her head. “It wasn’t Matt.” Her eyes move to the nurse again, watching as she types something into the computer before coming back to me. “But they haven’t figured out who it was yet.”
“I’ve got someone heading down to transfer you up to your room.” The nurse butts into our conversation. She turns to Brooke. “You can carry the bag of his belongings, but most of his clothes are ruined since they had to be cut off of him in the emergency room.”
“Figures. I’d just put a fresh shirt on.” A little more of my brain comes back online, and I turn to Brooke. “We didn’t make it to Walker’s appointment.”
Brooke gives me a small smile. “I know. He said he’ll figure it out.”
Shit. If this ruined his opportunity to look through the files pertaining to his mother’s death, I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself. And there’s already a ton of shit I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for.
Plenty of it involves the woman walking alongside my bed as I’m rolled through the halls of the hospital.
The aide responsible for relocating me is pleasant and chatty, telling Brooke all about his cats as we ride our way up to the third floor. My new room is bigger than the recovery one, with plenty of seating space and a private bathroom. Not exactly a five-star hotel, but I’ve slept in worse places.
Like my bed without Brooke in it.
After the new nurse comes in, introducing herself and making sure I’m okay on the pain scale, Brooke and I are finally alone. And I’m not waiting a second longer to have her beside me.
Patting the area on my right side, I give her a smile. “Come up here before someone comes in and tries to tell you you’re not allowed.”
For a second, I think she’s going to argue with me. She looks over my injured leg, but ends up carefully crawling close, curling against my uninjured side with her head tucked against my shoulder.
“I give today zero stars.” She smooths her hand over my chest, the softness of her touch soothing in a way pain meds could never be. “Worst day ever.”
“It’s not the worst day ever.” I can think of hundreds that were ten times more miserable than this. “But it could’ve probably been a little better.”
Brooke’s quiet for a minute, then her head shifts so she can look at my face. “I was so scared I lost you.”
“Brooklyn Marie, I did not survive almost ten years without you just to die the minute I get you back.” I chuckle. “That really would be ridiculous.”
Brooke doesn’t look amused at my joke about her calling me ridiculous. Her expression remains serious as her eyes move over my face. “It made me think.”
I want to pull her closer, but I’m stuck in the position I’m in, so I have to settle for running my hand over what I can reach. Her arm. Her face. Her hair. “About what?”
“About you. About me.” She shifts around a little. “About us.”
My chest gets tight. I know Brooke was hesitant to start something with me, but I thought we were past that. I thought she and I were finally on the same page. “Did you come up with anything interesting?” I try to sound teasing, but the fear she’s pulling back again makes it impossible.
She gives me a little nod, her head rocking against the pillow we’re both laying on. “I did.” She lifts her hand, resting it on my chest. “I decided you should marry me.”
I laugh, because it would be so like Brooke to tease me. But Brooke’s expression is still serious. Serious enough I start to wonder if I hallucinated showing her the engagement ring I bought.
“Didn’t you ask me to propose to you?” Am I losing my mind? Did I hit my head harder than I thought?
“Yeah, but I got tired of waiting.” She pats my chest. “So I decided to beat you to it.” Her eyes move pointedly to where she’s touching my sternum.
That’s when I see it’s not her hand resting against my body, but a box that looks a lot like the one in my dresser drawer, holding a diamond solitaire.
I watch as Brooke flips the top open and pulls out the band inside.
It’s gold with a ring of silver circling the center.
Set within that different colored portion are a collection of diamonds, spaced apart perfectly as they span the circumference.
The whole thing is smooth, with no nooks or crannies to collect dirt or grime.
“You designed this, didn’t you?” I reach up, taking the jewelry, sliding my thumb against the shining surface.
“I wanted you to have something you could wear when you worked without worrying.” Her eyes move from where I hold the ring to my face as her lower lip pinches between her teeth. “Do you like it, or is it too much?”
“I love it.” I put it on my finger, because there’s no way I’m not wearing it from this point on. I lift my hand, the tangible site of Brooke’s commitment to us making me forget about everything else. “Does this mean I can give you your ring while we’re—”
“He’s right in here.” My nurse steps into the room.
Followed by a fucking parade.
First in line is Walker. The lines around his eyes seem more pronounced as he looks me over, body visibly relaxing as he takes me in. “You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“I feel a lot better than the last time you saw me.” And the reason for that is the woman currently trying to scramble away from me.
I’m not letting her.
Banding my arm tighter around Brooke, I lift my hand, proud as fuck. “Look at this.”
My mother’s right behind Walker—followed by my dad, Trevor, and Tucker—and she scoffs the second she sees what’s on my finger.
“What is it with you kids and your inability to be patient?” She comes to my bedside, taking my hand to look over the ring before giving Brooke a smile.
“It’s beautiful.” She purses her lips at me.
“Does this mean I need to cancel the string quartet?”
Brooke’s brows lift. “String quartet?”
“Forget you heard that.” I press one hand over her ear as I answer my mother. “No, but I think we might have to push it back a bit.”
Her eyes go to my leg. “I’ll see what I can do.”