30. Blake
Blake
I look over and see Callie is still dead to the world, her painkillers making her drowsy, which is probably a blessing.
We have just finished traveling back from Vegas. I’d been worried about how much pain she would be in on our journey, telling her there was no rush to get home. But of course, Callie insisted. She wanted to see Kellen with her own two eyes and sleep in our bed. I couldn’t argue with her after that, loving that she referred to the loft as home and the bed as ours.
If I have my way, she’ll never leave.
The guys who came home with us split off at the airport, heading to see Kellen and the damage done to our offices. Both those things are important to me, but nothing matters more than the woman beside me.
Parking the car in the garage, I climb out, moving around to open Callie’s door before unclipping her belt and lifting her into my arms. She mumbles something and her brow furrows with pain for a moment before smoothing out as she falls back into oblivion.
I carry her up the stairs to the apartment and straight through to the bedroom. Laying her down as gently as possible, I slide the flip-flops Felix picked up for her from her feet before pulling the soft-down blanket over her. She murmurs again before sighing and rolling over, snuggling into the blanket. I can’t help but smile. The relief at having her here, home in my bed, safe and in one piece, is staggering.
I still can’t get my head around how close I came to losing her. Head injuries are fickle bitches. She was so lucky to walk away with a concussion and the damage to her jaw. I’m all too aware of how differently our story could have ended. Even if she hadn’t been hurt, I could have lost her the minute Christian took her aboard that plane. If he had taken her abroad to marry her, it would have been near impossible to find her.
Leaving the door open so I’ll hear her if she wakes up, I head out to the kitchen to make her something to eat. I smile when I open the fridge, knowing from the overflowing contents that my grandmother has been here. The freezer reveals much the same—food bags labeled with a variety of blended homemade soups and smoothies. I need to buy that woman some more flowers.
I take out a bag of soup and warm it through while making up a strawberry-flavored protein shake. Not the cheeseburger Callie’s been craving, but at least it’s not the slop from the hospital where they seemed content to sling everything on the menu for the day into a blender.
Grabbing a bottle of water and a handful of straws, I load up a tray and take it back to the bedroom for her. She’s stirring when I enter, her medications finally wearing off. It shows in her eyes that the constant dull ache is back.
“Hey, I have some food for you. Eat what you can, and we’ll get you showered before Wade turns up.”
She nods, in the habit of using her words sparingly now. I let her eat, not watching her as it makes her uncomfortable, and texted Tate to let him know we’d arrived home safely.
He wanted to be here when Wade questioned Callie, in case she remembered anything else. He lost one of his men because of Baylor so I couldn’t really say no.
Christian is still in the hospital, receiving treatment for a lacerated liver, punctured lung, broken ribs, shattered clavicle, and an extensive list of bruises and cuts he sustained thanks to The Kings of Carnage MC. I can’t say I’ve ever thought much about MCs; my path seldom crosses with one. There are a few locally, but Carnage will always have my respect for the way they jumped in and protected Callie, even though they didn’t know her from Adam.
With guards on Christian, it gave us a little breathing room to figure out our next steps. At least where he’s concerned, her mother, though, is a whole other matter.
Brenda had been transferred to a facility closer to home. She was in the ICU following surgery to remove her leg just below the knee. The operation was a success, but then an infection had set in, leaving her in a medically-induced coma for now so her body can heal.
Tate made sure this place, Callie’s, and my grandmother’s, was swept by the bomb disposal unit. Thankfully, we were given the all-clear to return, but while Christian is still alive, I know Callie is still in danger.
Callie waves to get my attention, letting me know she’s finished eating, so I place a soft kiss on her forehead and take the tray from her lap.
“You need a hand in the shower?” I want to tease her, but we found out the hard way not to make her laugh while her jaw is like this.
She shakes her head, so I leave her to it and take care of the dishes. As I head back to the kitchen, the buzzer rings. I dump the tray on the countertop and make my way over to the door.
“Yeah?” I question, holding down the intercom button.
“It’s us. We brought someone to see Callie,” Marcus calls in a singsong voice, making me shake my head. Why am I not surprised? I buzz them up and head back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes as the guys walk in.
I stop and dry my hands when I spot Kellen and walk over to him. “You good?” He looks okay, besides some gnarly bruising. “Yeah, I’m fine. How’s your girl?” he asks as everyone heads toward the sofas.
“She’s hanging in there, but I think it will be a rough couple of months for her. Doc says she can have the wiring removed in six to eight weeks, depending on how well she heals.”
“Jesus, I’ve never been so grateful just to have a broken arm.”
I look up when I spot movement out of the corner of my eye and see Callie walking out of the bedroom in a pair of black stretch leggings and one of my hoodies. The guys turn and stand when they see Callie, but she only has eyes for Kellen. She walks right up to him, wraps her hands around his large ones, and presses her forehead against his chest.
Kellen looks at me, likely to gauge my reaction, but jealousy is not something I’m feeling right now. Relief is all I feel. Relief that they are both standing here together when things could have turned out very differently.
We all watch quietly as Kellen presses his lips to the crown of her head and whispers soft words that are meant only for her. Eventually, they pull apart, and Kellen wipes a tear from her face. I step up behind her and pick her up, finding a spot for us on the sofa before sitting with her in my lap. As the buzzer for the door sounds once more, I look to Arlo, who heads over to answer it.
“Wade is on his way over to talk to you. You can use your phone to type your answers. Are you okay with that? I know you’re not one hundred percent yet, but?—”
She cuts me off with a hand over my mouth. She nods and rolls her eyes, making me chuckle.
“Okay, just remember we are all right here for you, okay?”
She nuzzles her temple against my chin, which I take as thank you .
We all turn when Arlo walks back over with Wade. Tate and Gunner follow in behind him, walking silently on their heels. The guys stand to shake hands, but I don’t move, not wanting to jar Callie unnecessarily.
“Hey, Callie, how you feeling?” Tate asks her as Wade takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of us. She waves her hand as if to say “so-so” before looking at Wade.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asks her gently, but she’s already nodding her head resolutely, lifting a little to slide her phone from her pocket.
“Okay, then let’s begin. Tell me about your mother.”
Callie types something before holding it up for me to read.
Where do you want me to start?
“Start from the beginning. I want to know what she was like before Baylor came on the scene,” Wade tells her, making me wonder how that’s relevant as Callie starts typing.
Tate must catch my confusion because he answers my unasked question. “Brenda didn’t just wake up one day and decide to sell her only child. There has to be more to it, and if we want her to see any real time inside a prison cell, we need to find out everything we can about her. Then use it to nail her ass to the fucking wall.”
“What he said.” Wade nods before focusing back on Callie.
“In your own time, Callie, tell us about your mom.”