Chapter 38
thirty-eight
CALLAN
“Christ. What the hell were they feeding you in there?”
My stepdad and Knox are practically dragging me inside the house, and it’s going as well as you’d expect.
I can barely stand on my own, my ribs screaming in protest with every movement, and the crutches?
Yeah, they’re more like weapons of mass destruction than any kind of help at this point.
I’ve spent the last few days wheeling around the hospital like a champion, but that doesn’t exactly prepare you for trying to make it through your front door when you’re a complete invalid.
Every step is like I’m climbing Everest, even as Knox’s hands balance me, but it’s awkward. He’s not exactly the nurturing type, especially when it comes to someone as stubborn as me.
“Just a little farther,” my stepdad says, his voice strained from trying to hold me up.
“I’m not sure I’m going to make it up these stairs,” I mutter, half laughing, half grimacing. At this point, I don’t really have much of a choice.
Knox snorts. “You survived a river and multiple surgeries, but a staircase is where you draw the line?”
I glare at him, or at least I try.
Bree is standing in the doorway, her face a mask of pure horror as she watches the scene unfold. I can see the worry in her eyes, the way her hands flutter near her mouth like she’s physically trying to hold back her apprehension.
Knox shoots a glance at her over his shoulder, his grip tightening on my arm as I stumble. “It’s fine,” he calls out, though it sounds about as convincing as a bad joke. “We’ve got this.”
“Do you?”
I try to throw some humor into the mix, even though every breath feels like I’m inhaling fire. “Don’t worry,” I wheeze, “just a three-man job to get me ten feet.” My attempt at a smile probably looks more like the start of a painful coughing fit.
Her eyes dart between Knox and me, her face pale. “This is ridiculous. You shouldn’t even be walking. Why didn’t you guys call me sooner?”
“Didn’t want you to see this circus act,” I mutter, immediately regretting it as another sharp stab of pain shoots through my ribs.
“You’re going to hurt yourself more,” she snaps.
“I’m fine,” I grit out. I can see the worry etched on her face, and I hate that I’m the cause of it. “Just…need to get to the couch.”
Knox and my stepdad exchange a look over my head, and I can practically feel their shared exasperation.
“All right, tough guy,” Knox says. “Let’s get you settled before you keel over and undo all the doctors’ hard work.”
With agonizing slowness, we shuffle our way to the living room, each step a battle of wills between me and my body.
Finally, I collapse onto the couch with a painful grunt. The relief hits almost immediately, but it’s not the sweet, satisfying kind. It’s more like a temporary truce. My ribs protest the sudden shift, sending jolts of pain through my entire body, but at least I’m not on my feet anymore.
“Well,” I gasp, letting my head fall back against the cushions, “that only took three grown adults and a minor miracle. Next time, let’s just rent a crane.”
Knox snorts again, dropping into the armchair across from me, looking far too comfortable for someone who just helped drag me across the room like a sack of potatoes. “Noted. I’ll call the heavy machinery guys for backup.”
Bree, hovering nearby with her arms crossed, lets out an exasperated laugh. “If you’re well enough to joke, you’re well enough to listen to me. You’re staying put now.”
I flash her a weak grin. “Stay put? Sunshine, you’re looking at the king of mobility right here.”
She rolls her eyes, but it’s softer now. She steps closer and grabs a throw pillow, tucking it behind my back with a tenderness that almost makes my chest ache. “King of mobility, huh? More like king of stubbornness.”
“Guilty,” I admit, sinking into the couch with a sigh. For the first time all day, I can breathe. Painfully, but still.
“You know,” Knox chimes in, “I think I preferred you unconscious. At least then you weren’t talking back.”
I shoot him a glare, but it’s weak at best. “Careful, brother. I might be down, but I’m not out.”
Bree groans, her fingers brushing my hair back from my forehead with a gentleness that makes everything else a little less painful. “You need to rest. No more heroics for today.”
I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips and pressing a kiss to her palm. “Yes, ma’am.”
Knox clears his throat and stands up. “Well, now that you’re settled, I should head out. Got some work to catch up on at the distillery.”
“Aye, I’m out of here, too. Gotta report back to your mother,” my stepdad adds, clapping me gently on the shoulder before heading for the door.
“Thanks for the help, guys.”
As they leave, Bree settles on the edge of the couch beside me, her hand resting gently on my arm. “Do you need anything? Water?”
I shift, wincing as my ribs protest the movement. “A time machine to go back and avoid that damn deer would be nice,” I mutter while trying, and failing, to get comfortable.
She huffs a quiet laugh, though her eyes are still shadowed with concern. “Sorry, fresh out of time machines. Anything else?”
I glance at her, catching the way her fingers tighten just slightly on my arm. “I guess I could settle for my personal nurse instead.”
She shifts closer, moving with care before she leans back against the couch. “Don’t push your luck,” she murmurs, but I hear the smile in her voice.
I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath. I try to find some peace in the discomfort. The pain is still there, a persistent throb that presses at the edges of my mind, threatening to swallow me whole if I let it.
“You know,” I say, “I never thought I’d be so happy to see this old couch.”
Her hand moves to my hair, her fingers gently combing through the strands. “I never thought I’d be so happy to see you on it,” she replies quietly.
I crack one eye open, looking down at her. There’s still a shadow of worry in her eyes.
“I want to kiss you,” I mumble.
Her lips twitch into a smile. “Then kiss me.”
I let out a frustrated sigh, glaring at my own body like the traitor it is. “Would love to,” I mutter, “but I can’t fecking move. Pretty sure even my eyelashes are broken.”
“Don’t worry, tough guy,” she says, leaning in. “I’ve got you covered this time.”
Her lips brush mine. It’s quick but perfect. I barely have time to savor it before the pain meds start pulling me under.