Chapter 3 Leah
Leah
The drive home is a silent one after another long shift. Today felt like it might never end. Luckily, I got out before someone could ask me to stay.
Every red light I hit makes my grip on my steering wheel tighten.
Despite living here in town, my home still feels too far away.
With my window down, each gust of summer air tickles my cheeks until the light turns green, letting me get closer and closer to my final destination. The sky is decorated with stars, with not a single cloud in the sky.
Deep down, the worry of what will meet me once I get to my place plucks at my chest, but I try not to think too hard about it. Not when I’ve already spent so much of today distracted by my worries.
The usual sounds of sirens play on repeat in my head, a haunting tune. That’s what happens when I have to listen to it all day. If it’s not the ambulance, it’s the victims’ cries I have to treat. I think I prefer the sirens over the screams.
I need a drink.
Finally, the familiar sign to Ironwood Heights comes into view, and I can’t help but speed toward it, reaching the parking lot in a few passing seconds.
Cutting the engine, silence floods in as I stare at my apartment complex through the windshield.
Exhaustion weighs down on me after pulling an eighteen-hour shift.
For a few seconds, I rest my forehead against the steering wheel and wonder if I’ll have enough strength to climb the stairs that lead to the second-floor units.
I’m so exhausted.
Letting out a much-needed sigh to release some of this stress built up, I pull back and yank the keys from the ignition and step out.
Making my way up the flight of stairs and letting myself inside, a quiet home welcomes me. Dropping my keys in the bowl in passing, I kick my shoes off one at a time, abandoning them in the hall as I slowly make my way to my bedroom.
Passing by the living room, I notice the couch is empty, but a blanket barely clings to the arm in an attempt not to crash into a pile on the floor. If it weren’t for the hum of a fan deeper inside the home, I’m sure fear would be shooting through my body despite the weight of the exhaustion.
Continuing toward my bedroom, I find the door cracked. Entering the darkness, my jacket hits the floor before I shove my jeans down.
With nothing else to get in my way, I crawl under the blanket and curl up, ready for sleep to take me.
Two seconds later, an arm curls around me, pulling me against a warm chest. If it weren’t for the bandage pressed into my spine, I’d elbow the hell out of the intruder. Instead, I’m forced to melt against him.
“I told you to stop sleeping in here.” Trying to put some agitation behind my voice, it’s the slow stroke of his thumb that makes it hard to cling to my anger.
We’re on day seven now since he’s been crashing at my place, and the longer we spend time together, the harder it is to cling to the rage I felt for him going out and getting himself shot.
Even though I know he couldn’t, I wish he’d stayed.
“You still hate me?” His breath is warm against my neck before his lips tickle the skin below my ear. “How many times are you going to make me apologize?”
My toes curl as his fingers pinch the hem of my shirt before slipping under. “At least twenty more times.”
Warden strokes my stomach and sighs into my hair, not even trying to tuck his fingers between my thighs. A part of me wishes he would. He’s barely touched me, and I can already feel my body responding to him. “How was your shift?”
“Terrible.” Mumbling the word, I don’t confess that it’s because I spend the whole time worrying about him.
All it takes is a sudden infection or a torn stitch to make all of my hard work go to waste.
As much as I don’t want him to think I’ve forgiven him, I roll around until my face is tucked into the crook of his neck.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to sleep. ”
His front vibrates before he’s pulling me even closer. He murmurs something into my shoulder, but I’m thankful that it’s muffled. Already knowing how much of a weak spot I carry for this frustrating man, I’d rather he not take advantage of it now.
My brain is terribly useless at the moment. While he might have a physical wound that keeps him weak, my weakness is much deeper. My stupid heart tries its hardest to match his heartbeat, just because.
Closing my eyes, I feel so much better having him here within my reach, right where I know he’s okay. He’s a pain in my ass, especially now, but he’s everything.
Our relationship is… complicated. Not really dating, but comfortable enough to be touched like this. The guys at the club say we’re friends with benefits, and I guess they’re not wrong. We’ve never tried to label it as anything else.
This is the closest way I can feed into my love for Warden without taking the risk of giving him my heart completely.
I need to pass out already before I really start to overthink everything.
* * *
When I wake up, the sun is already high in the sky. Patting around for my phone, I groan when I remember I left it in my abandoned jeans. Giving me no choice but to get up to check the time, I see I’ve slept through the afternoon.
In a sleepy haze, I notice the other side of the bed is empty. In an instant, I’m awake. The same fear that has coursed through my veins every day does its usual rounds, filling my head with the same haunting worries.
I’m too panicked to be reasonable with myself.
If Warden is foolish enough to try to get back to the clubhouse before he’s well enough, I’m going to kill him with my own hands.
As soon as I reach the living room, I spot him tucked inside the kitchen.
He’s got a spatula tucked in one of his hands, the handle of a frying pan in the other.
Standing there in just a pair of shorts, I’m left looking at the bare of his back.
Everything appears flawless except for a few moles; what catches my eye is the bandage wrapped around his abdomen.
It looks a little loose, probably from the movement during his sleep.
“Seriously?” The word leaves me without thinking, and I’m forcing out a sigh that’s pure frustration at myself. “What part of bed rest did you not understand?”
Turning to look my way, he gives me one of his cheeky smiles that makes my stomach tingle with butterflies.
Instead of giving me some excuse for why he’s moving around, he pauses long enough to take me in.
Starting at my t-shirt, his eyes drag down to my bare legs, and he’s not even shy when it comes to staring.
I should’ve put pants on. Silly me. Now he’s biting and licking his lip like he’s regretting cooking.
Lifting his gaze, he shrugs. “I got hungry.”
That’s why I went out and got three bags worth of microwavable meals. They’re easy and simple to prepare.
Warden decided he wanted a grilled cheese instead. Cool.
Moving toward him, he lifts his arm and happily welcomes me to touch him until I’m pulling at his bandages, checking his wound. Making sure there isn’t too much blood or signs of infection, he groans as I poke and prod at him.
“The guys are going to get really jealous if they find out how much special treatment you’re giving me, Doc.” Out of habit, he laughs when I swat his arm. “I made you one. Tell me you’re hungry. Make this sacrifice worth something.”
He’s dramatic, but I’m a little relieved to see he’s back to himself. The pain medicine I got my hands on must be doing something for him. That, or he’s trying not to worry me by showing his pain.
With him, it can go either way.
When he offers up a plate, I have no choice but to accept. He then nods his head over toward my coffee pot, the drink brewed and ready. Knowing him, he’s made it strong, just the way I like it. The way I need it to even function.
If he’s worried that I’m still upset with him, he’s working really hard to get back on my good side. Unfortunately for me, it’s working. It’s getting harder and harder to keep up this act.
All because I hope that if I’m mad enough, he won’t ever do something so reckless ever again.
By the time I’ve got a cup filled and my plate in front of me, he’s turning off the stove and slowly making his way to join me at the table. Despite his stoic expression, he carefully settles across from me.
“You’re stuck here for at least another week, no debate.” Chewing through my sandwich, I can’t help but groan at the melt of the cheese. “I’m off for the next couple of days. Let me take care of you, alright?”
I’ve already done so much as is. Why can’t he just let me keep doing it until he’s all better? At least for two weeks, I won’t have to worry about him keeling over. Three weeks would be pushing my luck, but I wouldn’t mind being able to keep him safe and out of trouble for at least that long.
“You know me. I hate being a pain.” Nibbling on his own sandwich, he lets his gaze drift to the side. “Judge give you any update on things? I feel out of the loop. Everything is good, right?”
I don’t need to tell him that I’m getting texts from the club members asking for updates as well. They don’t like that I asked them to stay the hell away until he can function. He’s witnessed me checking the device over and over again. This is the first time he’s asked, though.
“Crimson Road isn’t a problem anymore, if that’s what has you worried. Everyone is alive and well.” My next bite gets chomped down with hard chews. “Hammer keeps asking when you’ll be back.”
His mouth quirks up, and a chuckle rumbles out of him.
Our lunch goes quickly, and once I’ve downed my coffee, I’m hopping up to clean the mess before he even thinks about it. Hardly to my surprise, his eyes follow my movement, but he keeps his mouth closed for the most part.
“After working so much yesterday, you should be the one resting.” His eyes follow as I pass by him. He reaches out in an attempt to catch me, but I avoid him by a hair. “Seriously, relax!”
Calling after me as I slip back into my bedroom, I change for the day. A pair of shorts and a clean shirt goes a long way. While I’m away, I take the time to rub the exhaustion from my eyes. The last thing I need him to do is to start worrying about me.
When I return to him, I’m relieved to find him on the couch. He’s already got the remote in his hand, a look of boredom on his face.
Joining him, I settle with a cushion separating us. Then, without looking my way, he pats the cushion with his free hand.
“Not a chance.” Forcing my eyes forward, I cross my arms, hoping to look like I’m putting my foot down.
He hums, considering my choice before he shifts. Scooching in my direction, he’s moving so he’s resting against his back, his head settling right against my lap. My couch isn’t huge, so it’s no surprise that his calves and feet hang off the arm.
“This sucks.” Groaning as he looks up at me, he reaches up to touch my frown. “I’m resting. This counts. Stop being upset.”
What he’s really doing is making everything really hard. I’m trying to be stern here, to be the one who keeps him safe, but he keeps doing what he always does.
When it’s just us, he treats me like we’re… something. It’s no wonder my heart is in the shape that it is.
“You’re trouble.” Mumbling the words, I drag my fingers through his hair. Hearing his little sigh of contempt, he returns his attention to the television and takes his time hunting down a movie we’re both going to despise.
“I could say the same about you.” Murmuring the retort, he settles on a true crime documentary.
Great. My favorite.