Chapter Seven
DEE
Colt is still curled behind me in bed, his body warm and steady against mine. We haven’t moved for hours. The tears have stopped, but my emotions are a tangled mess—spinning, colliding, and driving me to the peak of exhaustion.
I can’t stop thinking about Anna.
I feel terrible for how I treated her.
It’s not her fault I can’t have kids, for God’s sake. She didn’t plan to be pregnant when my world fell apart.
So why am I so angry at her? It makes no sense.
Maybe it’s because every time I see her, I’m reminded of what I’ve lost—the swell of her belly, the glow in her eyes, all the things I’ll never have.
Jealousy isn’t who I am, but it’s clawing at me anyway, twisting something ugly inside.
I exhale, trying to let go of the guilt and shift in Colt’s arms. He adjusts easily, like he’s been waiting for me to move. His eyes find mine, warm and watchful, reading me in that way only he can.
He leans in and kisses the tip of my nose.
It makes me smile, just a little, and I feel his arms tighten around me like he’s silently saying I’ve got you.
I shift again, wincing at the awkward, clunky cast on my leg. The damn thing is driving me insane. Sleeping with it, moving with it, everything about it is so frustrating.
Colt doesn’t even blink. He lifts the blankets, adjusting things with a quiet kind of tenderness that cracks something in my chest.
With his help, I turn fully, finally facing him, really facing him.
And just like that, I feel a little more okay.
“What’s happening in that head of yours?” Colt asks as he tucks some hair behind my ear.
“I’m a terrible friend. I can’t believe I spoke to Anna that way, and yet I still don’t want to see her. I’m completely fucked in the head.”
“Baby, you know what you and swearing do to me,” he says, slightly moving his hips toward me and making a joke of it, which makes me giggle.
“You’re not a bad friend. You’re trying to cope, and any triggers are hurtful.
And Anna, even though she doesn’t mean to be, she is a trigger.
But I know that with some time, you’ll be fine.
I know you will. And Anna, well, she is Anna.
She’s going to understand completely and be there for you when you’re ready to see her.
Because that’s what friends do,” Colt says, and I nod in understanding.
“I just wish I had handled it better, you know? I wish I weren’t so damn weak all the time.”
“You’re not weak, Dee, far from it. You’re one of the strongest women I know.
You helped me recover from being consumed by my drug addiction, and you helped me get back to being the man I’m supposed to be.
You fought like hell to stay alive when, by all rights, you should be gone.
So don’t say you’re not strong, baby, ’cause you’re stronger than you know. And I love you for it.”
I inhale slowly, taking in everything he’s said. It’s true. I did have to be the strong one when Colt was recovering. Watching and helping him through those first few hours of detox was the hardest time of my life. Watching someone you love suffer is the worst kind of torture.
I start to think about Colt and what he’s been through watching me in here.
Watching me flat-line three times in front of him.
That must have been terrible for him. It takes me back to when he overdosed, and I thought he was dead.
That was the single worst moment of my life.
Surely, we can get past something like this if we can both fight our way back from the brink of death.
I lift my hand to his cheek, tracing the edge of his stubble. He smiles, leaning in and kissing me—softly, slowly, as if the world has finally stopped spinning for a moment. I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his lips wash over me, and for a fleeting second, everything feels blissful.
Until a quiet throat-clearing shatters the moment.
Colt pulls back and glances over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze to find the doctor standing in the doorway, smiling politely.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a light chuckle. “But I come bearing good news.”
Colt rolls over, sitting up beside me and lacing his fingers through mine. “Okay, shoot,” he says, glancing down at me with a look that makes my chest flutter.
“Well,” the doctor begins, stepping farther into the room. “Your recent test results are great, and your recovery is going better than expected. If you feel ready, I’m happy to discharge you tomorrow.”
My heart leaps, and I beam, barely holding in a squeal. Colt grins, letting my excitement speak for both of us.
“Yeah, I think I’m ready,” I say quickly. “But… will I be okay to fly home? Or do I need to stay here in the States until my leg’s healed?”
“You should be fine to travel,” he replies with a reassuring nod.
“As long as you follow the post-operative care instructions we’ll provide.
I’ve also prepared a few brochures… one for managing your menopause symptoms and another outlining options for your frozen eggs and the next steps in fertility.
There’s also a referral to a psychiatrist in London.
She’s a colleague of mine and specializes in post-trauma care for patients who’ve been through similar experiences.
I think she could be a great support if you’re open to it. ” He pauses. “Any questions?”
I shake my head and turn to Colt, who mirrors the gesture.
“Great,” the doctor says. “Then I’ll leave you to it.
We’ll finalize everything tomorrow morning.
Start making arrangements for your flight, and remember, it’s most important to take it easy.
No strenuous activity, and be sure to check in with your local hospital for follow-ups.
The cast can likely come off in about three weeks. ”
“When can we… you know… be together again. In that way,” I ask, embarrassed by my question, not actually wanting to say the words.
Colt laughs and shakes his head while the doctor smiles.
“You should be able to have intercourse within a couple of weeks. Normally, six to eight weeks from the surgery, but I don’t want you to push yourself, Dee.
You’ve had major surgery, and sex will always be there.
Try not to rush into anything before your body can handle it,” the doctor explains and looks at Colt, who nods.
Urgh, great!
Now I bet Colt will withhold from me until I’m completely healed. And I bet that when we finally make love, it will be just that, making love, none of the rough dominant sex I love and crave so much from Colt.
“Thanks, Doc,” Colt says, still holding my hand as he looks down at me with that warm, loving gaze that melts my heart.
“Not a problem. If you have any other questions or concerns, just let the nurses know. I’ll make sure to answer anything before you’re discharged tomorrow,” the doctor adds before quietly exiting the room.
The second the door closes, Colt looks down at me with a smirk that makes my stomach flip.
I already know what’s on his mind because it’s on mine, too.
“Sooo…” he drawls, eyebrows lifting. “Getting randy, are we, sweetheart?”
I roll my eyes and shoot him a fake glare before lightly punching his arm. He laughs, all boyish charm and trouble, then leans in to kiss me, soft and slow, but with just enough heat to remind me exactly what we’ve been missing.
He pulls back, brushing his nose against mine. “Don’t worry, baby… the next time I make love to you, everything will be perfect.”
God, I love this man.
And I love that I’m finally getting out of this concrete prison that’s tried to pass as a home for the past month.
Soon, I get to sleep in my own bed with Colt next to me, not crammed on a tiny hospital cot.
I will get to see Princess again and Joseph, sweet, persistent Joseph, who wanted to fly over the second he heard what had happened.
I told him not to. He’s been swamped with the restaurants, and I didn’t want to pull him away.
He wasn’t happy about it, but he stayed in London, and honestly, I’m relieved.
I haven’t exactly been the easiest person to be around since the accident.
Let’s just say emotional breakdowns and public screaming matches aren’t Joseph’s vibe.
Colt makes a few calls to arrange our flight home, and I zone out for a moment, soaking in the hum of hope returning to my chest.
Mum, Dad, Hux, Dingo, and Sia are all flying back with us on the band’s jet. I’m not sure what Anna and Johnny are doing, but the silence says enough.
They’re avoiding me.
And honestly?
I don’t blame them.
If I were them, I’d avoid me too.
***
We’re just waiting on the all-clear from the doctor before I can finally leave.
Sia and Mummy are packing up the last of my things while Colt and the guys stand around chatting—nothing important, just noise to fill the space.
Colt bought me a set of crutches and had them custom-painted pink—because, of course, he did.
Because he’s him. And now I love him even more for that simple, thoughtful gesture.
When the go-ahead finally comes, our little entourage heads toward the hospital exit. Colt stays close beside me as I hobble along on my new pink crutches while Mummy and Sia carry the bags.
I say my goodbyes to the nurses, some of whom I will genuinely miss, and when I reach the doctor, I pull him into a hug and thank him.
I’m standing here because of him.
But as we near the sliding glass doors, a familiar tightness creeps into my chest.
My anxiety builds with every step.
There are people outside.
Flashes of people.
Paparazzi.
God, I hate them.
Please let there be no evil minion fans out there. Please.
Colt must sense it because he leans in close and murmurs, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m right by your side.”
His words settle me more than they should. But I need them. I need him.
The doors glide open, and the camera flashes fire instantly—blinding and disorienting.