Chapter 57 #2
As if sensing that I’m done, Spencer stands back up, and we head back downstairs.
The guys are quiet as Rick begins moving around the kitchen, looking for something to make, and for a second, I watch him, letting my brain wander.
“Hey, Princess. Where’d you go?” Jake asks, moving into my line of sight and pulling me from my thoughts.
“Oh, sorry,” I say lamely, turning to find the others watching me as well. The looks of concern on their faces make me want to kick myself. As if they haven’t been worried about me enough in the last few days.
“Don’t apologize, we just want to make sure you're okay,” Kratos says, his eyes trained on me, watching me carefully.
I know what he’s looking for, but he won’t find it.
I’m not close to breaking, at least not the way I used to.
No, right now I don’t feel like a monster lacking emotions or like I might snap and lose it in a fit of anger.
If anything, it’s the opposite. Right now, I feel as though I have too many emotions.
“So how did Hazel handle you telling her she couldn’t come?
” I ask Trent to change the subject. I can’t say I wasn’t disappointed when they told me they made her stay behind, but I got it.
The house of the leader of the Bratva probably isn’t the best choice for someone like her or most people.
Hell, the guys even seem a bit on edge, honestly, but that could be from everything else going on right now.
“Whatever you're picturing, times it by like a million, and that’s how she took it,” he says with a shake of his head, but the smile on his face is soft. Trent loves his sister so much, even when she’s a pain in his ass.
It’s adorable.
“She’s not just mad at him this time, though,” Rick says, walking over to drop his phone on the table in front of me before he goes back to his cooking. It’s open on his messenger, and I see Hazel’s name up at the top.
Her messages are… colorful, to say the least. Starting off angry, then sad, and ending in her threatening violence on them if something happens to me. I can’t help but laugh. Doing so causes a dull ache in my side, but I can’t help it.
Hazel is probably the nicest person I’ve ever met. I don’t think she actually has a violent bone in her body, but something about picturing her trying to beat them up really gets to me.
“You're a bad influence,” Spencer says with a smirk, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“I think it’s fantastic. She needs to learn to stand up for herself, and it looks like she is,” I tell them, still laughing, knowing they can’t argue with me on that, and they don’t. The pain in my side pinches tighter as the muscles in my stomach tense, and I wince, covering it with my hand.
“Here,” Rick says, dropping a bowl in front of me. It’s still steaming and smells delicious, though I have no idea why. From what I can see, it’s a bowl of fresh fruit.
I look up at him in confusion and find him looking down at me with a warmth in his eyes that I’m only just starting to get used to.
“We ate earlier, but with all the medication and you being out for a few days, I figure we should probably start small. So oatmeal and fruit, and if you're still hungry after, I can make you something else,” he tells me, dropping into the seat next to me.
Starting small is probably the best idea to avoid getting sick, but I feel like I could eat a whole five-course meal. Thankfully, with Rick's cooking, I know even his oatmeal will be delicious. The smell alone makes my mouth water, and while it might not be chocolate, I love fresh fruit, too.
Bringing the spoon to my mouth, I silently plead with the universe to let me eat it.
The last thing I want is to be starving and have my body refuse food and make me sick.
The guys sit around me at the table watching, and as weird as it feels to have them watch my every move, it’s also comforting to know they're there.
I can’t stop the happy sigh that leaves my mouth when the flavor explodes on my tongue, and I swallow it down without protest. The guys all seem to relax a bit as I take another bite, and after a few seconds, they start talking and acting normally again.
It takes me a while to eat it all, but none of them seems to care.
It’s not like we have anything we need to rush off and do while we're halfway around the world. It’s not until a bell rings through the house that I realize I’ve finished my food.
“It’s the security system. That means whoever is coming up has clearance,” Jake says, as if sensing my unease. “Probably the doctor.”
It doesn’t really do much, given that I can’t move, but at least we're not under attack or anything. A few minutes later, I hear the sound of someone approaching: the click of heels bouncing off the walls in the large room.
She rounds the corner with a bright smile.
Her skin is paler than my own, but not so light that it looks as if she never sees the sun.
Long hair hangs down well past her shoulders in soft waves, the color a beautiful mix between red and brown.
Her eyes are dark but shine with her smile, letting me know it’s genuine.
She stops about ten feet from the table before inclining her head toward me.
I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t her.
Actually, that’s a lie. I’d seen a few TV shows with the guys where the doctors on call for gangs and mafia were always old, creepy men.
The guys who you would worry might harvest your organs if left unattended with a body.
Not to say she couldn’t. I know better than to judge someone by appearance alone.
But I’d like to think the odds are less.
“Jade, your mother said you were up and moving around and asked that I check on you before I head down to check on your brother. Is now a good time?” She asks.
Her accent is thick, but not so bad that she can’t be understood.
I look to the guys, unsure what to do, considering I can’t walk right now, and Kratos gives me a nod.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. I’ll need to check your stitches. Would you like to go to one of the rooms for privacy?” she asks, and while I appreciate her attempt to give me privacy, it won’t be needed.
“No, the couch is fine,” I tell her, which catches her off guard as she looks around the room at the guys, and I almost laugh. It’s so easy to forget that the way we live isn’t normal.
Kratos is up the next moment, walking over to me and scooping me up into his arms. He’s careful. I can feel his hesitation in the way he holds me, but I still can’t fully bite back the wince from moving around.
“Remind me never to get shot again,” I whisper to him as he carries me to the couch.
I’d meant it as a joke, but with the way his nostrils flare, I’m going to go out on a limb and say he didn’t think it was very funny.
I hear the doctor follow after us. Kratos sets me down on the couch gently and takes a step back, but doesn’t go far as the rest of the guys crowd around, and I watch as the doctor's smile slips.
“What’s your name, doc?” Zander asks, making her head snap in his direction, and I watch as she seems to relax, even if only a little. Zander has that effect on people. He had that effect on me. Jealousy sours my mouth as I watch her lips turn back up in a smile as she looks at him.
“Sofiya,” she tells him, and I watch in disbelief as she bats her lashes at him, her cheeks coloring slightly. I groan in annoyance, but it comes out as more of a growl, and Zander’s eyes snap to mine, a knowing smirk on his lips.
“Well, Sofiya, I suggest you keep your eyes to yourself and do your job and take a look at our girl before she pulls those pretty eyes out of your head, huh?” He holds my gaze as he talks, and I feel my eyes narrow when he says her eyes are pretty, which only makes him smile wider.
Fuckers, trying to rile me up on purpose, and it’s working.
“Our girl?” Sofiya asks, and I turn my attention back to her, ignoring Zander’s game. Her eyes are wide in shock as she looks around the room at each of my guys and finally back at me.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, trying and failing to keep my tone light. Oh well.
“Ugh, no. No problem,” she says, shaking her head, and this time, when she talks, I can hear the hint of nerves.
Good. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” she trails off once again, looking around at them, and it’s starting to wear on my patience.
I’m not blind. I know they're hot, but she’s here for a job, one that I would prefer her to do so that she can leave and tend to Dom.
“Now you do,” I say, and that seems to be enough for her. She approaches the couch with much more caution than she had when moving through the house before. If only she knew I couldn’t stand it if I wanted to.
Fuck, I should probably tell her about that.
“You were supposed to be out for a few more days with the level of fentanyl we were giving you. I'm surprised you're awake, let alone up and moving around,” she says, once again slipping into doctor mode as she kneels next to the couch.
“May I?” she asks, gesturing toward my shirt, and I nod before arching my back so that she can easily move the fabric.
She peels the tape back with ease, exposing a row of red, angry-looking stitches.
Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out a pair of gloves and slides them on, her brow pinching as she probes and pokes around.
If I didn’t want to hit her before, I sure as fuck do now.
She’s doing her job, the one you wanted her to do.
I remind myself as I take deep breaths, trying to calm down.
It doesn’t work.
“They still look tender, but I don’t see any sign of infection. That’s good,” she says more to herself than to me. “Have you been feeling any pain? They look as though maybe you’ve pulled at them,” she says, looking up at me as if she already knows I have been.
She’s right, but I can’t bring myself to admit it. Instead, I shake my head.
“No sharp pains in your lower abdomen? Dull aches, maybe fatigue, or anything that feels off?” Sofiya pushes, and again, I shake my head.
“She’s lying,” Jake says from his spot at the end of the couch, earning himself a glare, but to my horror, he keeps going.
“She can’t stand. Her legs give out,” he tells her, then turns to me with a serious look that I’m not used to being on the receiving end of.
“You need to tell her these things, Jade. She’s a doctor.
She’s here to help you,” he tells me, not sounding the least bit apologetic for throwing me under the bus yet again.
I hold his gaze, and he doesn’t back down.
With a sigh, I turn back to the doctor, who looks between us like we're the strangest thing she’s ever seen.
“I can’t stand. My legs give out. It’s a constant dull ache, but any twist, bend, or deep breath makes it feel like a sharp pain, like it’s going into my chest. I’m fucking exhausted, but I don’t want to sleep yet, and my head is pounding.
Oh, and I fell out of bed trying to get out on my own,” I tell her in a rush before once again glaring at Jake.
“Happy?” I snap, and the fucker smiles, like, actually smiles at me.
“Yes, Princess, I am. Thank you,” he says, and I huff before turning away from him so that he can’t see how that stupid nickname melts my insides.
“Well, the good news is most of that is pretty normal. The headache, fatigue, and weak muscles are all side effects of fentanyl. It will work its way out of your system in the next few days, and as it does, those symptoms should lessen.”
Should.
I don’t like that, but I keep quiet, watching as she reaches into her little medical bag I hadn’t noticed before. She pulls out new gauze and begins cleaning and re-wrapping my stitches.
“I would suggest relaxing as much as possible so as not to pull or rip your stitches. If you do that, you'll have to start all over again.”
Fuck. I knew she would say that, but I hadn’t thought about her saying it in front of the guys. I should have had them take me up to the room. Now, they're going to watch me even more than they already are.
“If you can do that, I imagine your stitches can come out in about seven days, maybe sooner. I’ll send for some pain medication to help you get through the worst of it.
If you need something stronger, just let me know,” she says as she finishes up, and I drop my head back with a groan.
I don’t want pain medication, but I ignore that, more worried about what I’m going to do for seven days.
“I know in your line of work, downtime is hard. Your father’s the same way.
Ask him how many times he’s had to get restitched now.
My father lost count. I only took over for him less than two years ago, and I’m already up to ten,” she says with a chuckle, and I crack an eye open to look at her.
She seems nice enough, other than her obvious attempt to flirt with Zander.
But I guess I can give her a pass. It’s not like she knew he was mine.
Now she does, though, so this will be the only one.
“I’ll do my best,” I tell her, and whether I like it or not, I mean it. The last thing I want is to make this take longer than it already will.
“Great! I’ll be going to look in on your brother now, and I’ll be back in seven days to check on your stitches.
” She stands for a moment, and I force my lips up into a smile I don't necessarily mean, but I want to. I don’t want to be jealous of every girl who doesn’t know better.
I’ll save the murderous rage for the people who deserve it and the ones who keep pressing even after they know better.
“Thanks.”
“It’s my pleasure to serve your family. Our families have a long-running partnership that we take great pride in,” she says once again, nodding, and this time, I realize it’s a sign of respect, not just some greeting, the way I’d originally thought it was.
“Oh, and welcome home, Princess,” she says, nodding to the guys and heading over to the stairs leading down to Dom’s makeshift hospital room.
“Damn it,” I groan, covering my face with my hands.
“Don’t look so upset, Doll. I'm sure we can find more than enough things to keep us busy here,” Zander says, and I hear the smile on his lips. I know he’s probably excited to be here, explore and all that, but I just can’t find it in me to share in that.
This is going to be a long week.