CHAPTER THIRTY
brOOKLYN
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“I will, Dad,” I say for the fifth time and shoot Mom a look.
I’m tired.
I’m sore.
I want to go back to sleep.
Mom squeezes my hand and then nudges Dad out of the room.
Jasmine leans in and kisses my forehead. “There is someone else outside if you want to see him?”
I blink, confused.
Then my mouth falls open.
“Travis?” I whisper, and despite having been shot, my immediate thought is I look terrible.
“Brook.” His rough voice sounds from the doorway, and my eyes flash over to him.
My god.
He’s so beautiful.
My eyes fill with tears, and he’s at my side a second later.
“Guess that’s a yes then.” Jasmine smiles and leaves us.
“Fuck,” he says, taking my hand, his eyes roaming over my body like he’s working out how much bubble wrap it would take to fully protect me.
I give him a smile.
“Did you hear the show?” I ask, my throat raw.
“Fuck the show, Brook.” Then he shakes his head. “I don’t mean that. I mean, I care about you. That you are alive. Are you sore?”
I laugh, then cringe. “Yes, I was shot.”
“I’m so sorry.” He drags the chair over and drops into it, looking beaten.
I watch him, wondering what he has to be sorry about.
“Trav, you didn’t do this.”
“No, but my fucking father probably did.” He grounds out under his breath. “It was my job to protect you.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes.
“No, I knew the risk.”
I feel his hand on my leg as the drugs pull me under, and I fall asleep.
When I wake up hours later, his head is on my thigh, and he’s asleep. Blinking away the sleep, I gaze at the dark circles under his eyes and lift my hand, sliding it through his hair.
Travis bolts up.
“What! Where? Are you okay?” He reaches for me.
“Yes. Ouch. Fuck, no.” I remember what the nurse said and push the button to get more painkillers.
Over the next few hours, a bunch of doctors and nurses come in and out of the room. My parents return, and Jasmine messages.
Travis doesn’t leave.
Dad, who originally looked like he wanted to kill him, has started warming to him. Especially once he learned Travis had been paying for personal security for me.
“You can go home tomorrow,” the doctor tells me. “You will need help.”
“She can come home with me,” Travis says.
“She can come home with us,” Dad says.
I smile, and Mom glances at Travis with her own private smile. Then back at me.
They all look at me.
“We can decide tomorrow.” I tell them.
A little later, Maddox and his wife Kyra show up with a change of clothes and some toiletries. She’s nice—he’s as broody as Travis—and I wish I wasn’t stuck in a hospital bed.
“When you are well, we can go out for dinner.” Kyra rubs my good arm. “Get better. Travis will look after you.”
When he returns from his shower, he lowers into the chair and starts scrolling.
“Trav.”
He looks up.
“This is silly. You can go home. It’s one more night.”
“Someone tried to kill you Brook.” He glares.
“And you have two guards outside the door.” I nod at it.
“I’m not leaving.”
Letting out a sigh, I close my eyes and drift off.
When I wake later than evening, he’s snoozing in the chair, looking like a little boy. Despite the tattoos, despite the black sweatpants that do not hide as many sins as they should.
He’s so damn sexy, and adorable.
I remember his complaining about my use of that word while in the Alps.
My heart skips a beat, and I know I’m done for.
We have so much to learn about one another, but for some insane reason, we’ve fallen in love. And that seems to be that. I don’t think I’m going to have much choice in the matter anyway.
I smile to myself, imagining this man as the person I spend my life with. Is it possible?
Can I trust him?
I can spend my life wondering or being scared, or I can take a risk. And I think I might want to do it with Travis Warner.
His eyes flicker open and land on me. Unfolding his body, Travis stands and stretches.
I reach out my hand, and his eyes flare momentarily, then settle as he comes over and sits on the bed.
“I’m not leaving.”
“I don’t want you to.” My thumb rubs over his large hand.
Ever.
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TRAVIS
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FUCK, MY HEART is beating so hard.
My eyes roam her face looking for answers, but all she’s doing is smiling at me.
“This is it. Forever. I’m a possessive man.”
“Really, you should have warned me.” Brook teases.
I lean down, my hand palming the sheets beside her.
“I want you to move in. Bring the damn cat. Bring everything. I’m going to marry you.”
Her cheeks heat.
“That better not be your proposal.” She smiles, and I feel a million times more confident.
I brush the hair from her face. “Please, I took you to Switzerland for date number three.”
“Thought they weren’t dates?” Brook grins.
“They were dates. They were always fucking dates, and you know it.” I lower my mouth to hers, and this time our kiss is soft and full of so much promise.
“I don’t know you. I hate that I don’t know you. But we are fixing that. Talking. Sex. But also talking.” I grumble. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I do. And it’s real.”
She slides her fingers through my short dark hair.
“You know me. And”—she shrugs—“if you don’t, you can always give me back.”
I let out a growl.
“No returns.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.” She laughs.
“You will.” Then I slam my mouth down much harder to let her know I mean all of it.
When we part, our breaths a little shorter, Brook rubs her thumb over my cheek. “I am falling in love with you too, Trav. I’m not just saying it. I felt it in the Alps.”
I smile.
Like big-teeth, grinning-like-an-idiot, smile.
“Yeah?”
She nods.
“Fuck, how long until we can have sex?” I glance around, needing a doctor immediately.