Chapter 8
Hold it together. Hold it together.
But she couldn’t. She really couldn’t.
Millie paced up and down the waiting room. What was going on? Where was Spike?
A sob escaped her and she wiped at her cheeks.
“Millie?”
She glanced over to see Damon stepping into the waiting room, his face pale and worried.
She ran at him and he caught her, his arm under her ass as he lifted her into his arms and held her cradled against his chest.
“It’s all right. You’re okay.”
“I’m not. I’m not. Spike . . .” His name was a cry on her lips. Filled with pain and fear.
“Do we know anything yet?” Damon asked.
“Stupid doctors tell us nothing,” Andrey said. His accent grew thicker when he was upset.
After Reverend Pat answered her phone and discovered that Spike was in the hospital after a car accident, he and Andrey had brought her here to the hospital while the others stayed behind to tell everyone who arrived what had happened. And to take care of Mr. Fluffy.
Andrey had driven them here, while Reverend Pat had called Damon.
“I’ll go find out what is going on,” Damon said darkly, setting her down on a chair. “You stay here, sweetheart.”
Uh-oh.
When Damon got that look, someone was going to get an earful.
Or worse.
“Do not bother,” Andrey told him bitterly. “I threaten them many times. With bodily harm. With cutting of the balls. Choking of the cock. They just stare at me as if I not speak English.” He started muttering insults in Russian. “They not know who they deal with. I strangle them until their eyes pop from their sockets.”
“Damon,” she whispered.
“I’ll find out. Don’t worry. And I’ll keep them from calling the cops on him.” He nodded toward Andrey.
“The police do not scare me!” Andrey cried.
Reverend Pat sighed and walked over to talk some sense into Andrey while she sat there anxiously. It seemed to take Damon forever to return. Her phone was buzzing with messages from her friends and their men. But she just couldn’t talk to anyone.
When Damon finally came back, she jumped to her feet. The room swayed around her.
Oh God. She was going to be sick. Or faint.
She wasn’t sure which.
“Fuck, Millie.” She was gathered up against Damon’s chest. “It’s all right, sweetheart. He’s going to be all right. They were doing an MRI on him. I don’t know why no one would talk to you, but I think the doctor wanted to check the results before coming to speak to you. The doctor will be here soon.”
“He . . . he’s alive.”
“Of course he is. Do you think a car accident is going to kill him off? He’s too stubborn to die. That bastard has nine lives.”
She appreciated his attempts to lighten the situation, but the truth was that she felt too upset to smile.
A noise had her turning, tears filling her eyes once more as they all arrived. Sunny and Duke. Jason and Jewel. Betsy and Ink.
They kept coming, filling the room.
Effie and Grady were among the last of them to get there.
Millie was surrounded by friends, all the support she could need, but all she wanted was Spike.
Her best friend. Her Daddy.
The door to the waiting room opened again and a frazzled-looking doctor walked in. He glanced around. “Uh, I’m looking for the family of Quillon Lochlin?”
She jumped up again, breathing through her nausea and dizziness. “Yes? I’m . . . I’m his girlfriend.”
“And I’m his brother-in-law,” Damon said.
The doctor blinked at them both. His gaze moved over her outfit. Right. She’d forgotten that she had her Easter dress on. Well, screw him if he didn’t like it. But he simply turned his gaze to everyone else. “Well, if you could both follow me to my office we can speak alone.”
“You can speak here,” she said, desperate to hear what he had to say.
“Ahh, the patient’s privacy?—”
“Just do what she said,” Damon demanded, his hand moving to her lower back in support.
“Yes,” Andrey yelled. “Do it or I pull your insides out of your ass.”
The doctor’s eyes widened as he glanced over at Andrey.
“Ignore him,” Reverend Pat said, whacking Andrey around the back of his head.
“Right, well, um. As I’m sure you know, Mr. Lochlin was in a car accident. He was rendered unconscious. He’s had an MRI and it showed that there is no bleeding on his brain or swelling. He’s bruised and sore, but he’s now awake and asking for Millie, which I assume is you?”
“Y-yes, that’s me. He’s really going to be all right?”
The doctor’s face softened. “He is. We’ll keep him overnight for observation, but I’m confident he’ll be able to go home tomorrow. You’ll need to keep him quiet for a few days. He shouldn’t be stressed or spend too much time on his phone or other screens. His brain needs rest. But yes, he’s fine.”
“I can . . . can I see him?”
“Uh, yes. But just two people.” He eyed everyone in the room again.
“You and Damon go,” Grady said to her. “Effie and I will take Reverend Pat and Andrey home.”
“We’ll all go too,” Duke said. “Give you some time with him. But, Millie, you let us know if you need anything, understand?”
She nodded gratefully, waving goodbye to everyone. Damon said goodbye to Effie and Grady. Then he took her hand as they followed the doctor to a private room.
As soon as she stepped into the room, a sob escaped. She tried to hold it back. She really did. The last thing she wanted was to upset Spike. But she just couldn’t help it.
Seeing him lying there on the bed, looking so bruised and in pain . . . it was killing her.
“Millie,” he groaned.
The room was dark. There was just a small light on in the bathroom. But she could still see that his face was etched tight with pain.
“Oh, Spike,” she said quietly.
“Come here, baby doll.” He held out his hand and she rushed to his side, taking hold. “I’m all right, baby.”
She nodded, aware that there were tears sliding down her face. She had to get herself under control. Had to be brave and strong for him.
It was so freaking hard, though.
This was Spike. The man she loved more than anything.
“Baby doll, you’re killing me here,” he grumbled.
“Sorry.” She wiped at her cheeks with her free hand. “Sorry. I’m good. I’m fine. I was just worried about you when you didn’t come back from the airport. And then Andrey and the others turned up in an Uber. Then I got a call from the hospital to say you’d been in a car accident. But when we got there, they wouldn’t tell us what was going on. I was just . . . scared.”
“Hey, hey, hush. I’m fine,” he said in a raspy voice.
Shoot. She had to stop talking. The last thing he needed was her crying and upsetting him. It was time that Millie took care of him rather than the other way around.
So get it together, girl.
“Come here.” He tugged at her hand.
She stared down at him, not quite understanding what he wanted. “I am here.”
“No, get up on the bed so I can hold you.”
Her eyes widened. “Daddy, I can’t get on the bed with you.”
He was injured. And the bed was tiny. He took up most of the space on it already. There was definitely no room for her even if she wanted to get up on it.
“Baby doll. Up. With. Me.”
“Quillon, she’s worried about hurting you,” Damon said reasonably. “Let her sit in the chair beside you.”
Spike looked like he was going to argue.
“Please, Daddy. You’ve got a concussion and the doctor said you’re bruised. I don’t want to hurt you further.”
“You won’t.”
“And I don’t want to get kicked out of the hospital when they find me lying in the bed with you.”
His face darkened. “I’d like to see them try.”
Shoot. She wasn’t doing well at keeping his stress levels down. Or her own.
“Easy, man,” Damon told Spike as he gently pressed her shoulders to get her to sit in the chair. “She just wants to do what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me is to hold her,” Spike grumbled. “She’s upset.”
“Because she’s worried about your ugly mug,” Damon shot back.
Spike turned his head toward her, wincing.
“Careful. Don’t hurt yourself,” she cautioned.
He squeezed her hand. “Baby, you aren’t going to hurt me. You could never.”
A sob escaped her despite her best efforts to smother it. “I thought you’d died. I didn’t know what had happened. Reverend Pat and the others turned up in an Uber and then we got a call for a hospital. I was so scared.”
“Fuck, I forgot I was on my way to pick them up. Are they okay?”
“They’re fine. You’re the one we’re all worried about.”
“Then stop,” he said firmly. “I’m fine.”
“You were in a car accident. You have a concussion and bruises.”
Damon put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. Shit. She shouldn’t be upsetting Spike. And if he saw she was upset, then he was going to be too.
Taking a deep breath, she worked on calming herself.
So much for taking care of Spike like he did for her.
“Everything is all right now,” she said. “You’re safe. And I’m going to take care of you.”
“Need to take care of you,” he countered stubbornly.
“No, Daddy,” she said firmly. “You’re the one who needs taking care of now.”
His gaze narrowed. “I don’t think so.”
Yeah. She should have known he wouldn’t take that well. He was the protector. The nurturer. The one who took care of things.
But he was just going to have to accept that she wanted to do the same for him.
“Fuck,” Spike grunted. “Your party.”
“It doesn’t matter, Daddy.”
“It does matter. You worked so hard.”
“So I’ll have it another weekend. Everyone will understand. All that matters is you.”
“Sorry, baby,” he said tiredly. “Ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” she muttered as he grimaced and shifted position. “All I care about is that you’re okay.”
“That’s all anyone cares about,” Damon said firmly. “That you’re going to be all right. But you need to listen to the doctors and rest and don’t get stressed.”
“Millie. Needs looking after.”
“I’ll do that,” Damon said.
Um, she could do that herself.
Pfft. But she didn’t argue as she saw Spike drifting off. He needed to get some sleep. That would help him heal.
Thank God he was all right. Because she didn’t want to think about her life without him in it.