Skye holds the door open for me, and I shuffle through it. My entire body aches, and my shoulder throbs. But at least the never-ending headache hasn’t reached its normal midday crescendo of pain yet.
Thank fuck I’m finally home.
Everyone says they hate hospitals, but I really, really hate them. Between the time I spent in one after the RPG in Iraq and with Savage after his accident, I could have easily avoided one altogether for the rest of my life. If it wasn’t for that little gunshot wound. And the dislocated shoulder. And the concussion. And the hypothermia. And being struck by lightning.
I manage to make it to the couch before dizziness makes the room tilt, and I’m forced to lower myself onto the cushion before I face-plant onto the hardwood.
“You okay?”
She’s kneeling in front of me in a second. I cast a fleeting glance her way before I close my eyes and drop my head back against the cushion.
Breathe.
Breathe, and tell her you’re fine. If you don’t, she’s going to dote and she’ll never leave.
If she doesn’t leave, she’ll keep assessing you and stripping you bare with that look, and you’ll start reconsidering the very wise decision you made to stick to your guns and keep things strictly platonic.
Why does she have to be so fucking beautiful, though?
I swallow and open my eyes to make sure the room has stopped spinning before I move my head up and meet her eyes again. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’m going to head to bed.”
She eyes me suspiciously and purses her lips. “I’ll make you something to eat first. You look pale.”
Having never had a mother, aside from Mrs. Hawke, I’m not a hundred percent sure what being babied feels like, but I’m pretty sure this is it. And I don’t like it.
“Skye, go home. I’m fine. I’ll eat later.”
The scowl on her face is so damn cute, I want to kiss it away, no matter how annoyed with her I am. But I can’t.
Have some balls, Anderson.
“Gabe, you need help. Let me take care of you. It’s the least I can do considering—”
I hold up my hand. “Stop. We are not doing that again. I can’t hear you apologize one more time. Please, just leave. Go sleep in your own bed. I really am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I’m just going to sleep anyway.”
She doesn’t bother to hide her hurt or anger at my words. The daggers she shoots at me could cut fucking diamonds. With an annoyed sigh, she climbs to her feet and turns to reach into the purse she dropped on the coffee table.
The bottles with my prescriptions and a few other personal items are unceremoniously dropped onto the table before she zips her bag, drapes it over her shoulder, and turns back to me.
“You are due to take your Percocet and Cipro in four hours. Make sure you set an alarm so you don’t miss any doses. I’ll be back to check your surgical site tomorrow morning.”
Stubborn girl.
With some difficulty, I use my good arm to push myself up off the couch. I waver slightly before I catch my balance. Skye steps forward to help me, but I put a hand up, stopping her in her tracks. That adorable scowl returns.
“I’ve taken pain medication before, Skye. I’m also capable of putting on my own fucking Band-Aids.” It’s far more than a Band-Aid, and we both know it, but I’m not going to let her go all “nurse” on me and treat me like an invalid.
She growls and stomps to the front door like a petulant child. “Fine, suit yourself, but don’t come crying to me when you forget to take your meds, you’re writhing in pain, and you can’t move your fucking arm enough to actually reach the wound you need to clean.”
The front door slams before I can reply.
Not that I know what I would even say to that. I stare down at my slinged arm.
Fuck. She does have a point.
I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Right now, the only thing I can think about is climbing into my own bed and passing the fuck out.
I don’t remember my hallway being this long, though. The throbbing starts, splitting my skull just as I finally make it to the open bedroom door. I pause, leaning against the doorjamb, to catch my breath and get my bearings.
When my eyes finally land on my bed, it’s Heaven and Hell all rolled into one. The sheets are still rumpled from my last sleepless night here, and while the thought of climbing in is inviting as fuck, I know as soon as I fall into it, the memories of being here with Skye will flood me.
No choice though.
I’m about to fall over. I stumble the last couple steps to the bed and drop down, then lay back.
The heady aroma of sex envelops me.
“Fucking eh.”
Like I need another reminder of Skye or what happened here that night. Since I woke up in the hospital and saw Skye, it’s all I’ve been able to think about. She sat by my side for twelve fucking days, while my best friend only came once and only when he thought I was unconscious. This is precisely what I was trying to avoid the last time she was here by letting her go.
Now, the reminder of making love to Skye permeates the air around me, the pillow, and sheets beneath me so heavily, I can almost feel what it’s like to be inside her again.
If I weren’t so fucking exhausted, and in so much pain, I might be tempted to rub one out.
“He’s an idiot.” I slam my martini glass down on the bar top and crumple a napkin in my hand, just to destroy something.
Storm’s eyes widen, and she holds her hands up in surrender. “I didn’t disagree with you.”
Byron approaches us and quirks an eyebrow at me. “Problem with your drink?”
I glower at my half-empty glass. “No. In fact, bring me another.” Bryon tosses a look at Storm, and I glare at them both. He shrugs and backs away slowly, as if any sudden movements might result in loss of limbs.
Judgmental assholes.
I might as well get drunk tonight. It’s the first time I’ve left the hospital in twelve days. The only reason I even let Storm convince me to come to the club is because I drink for free, and she assured me Savage wouldn’t be here.
After the way Gabe acted today, I deserve some liquid refreshment. It may be the only way to calm me down after that stunt he pulled.
“Skye, I’m sure Gabe is fine.” Storm’s words do nothing to placate me. Quite the opposite. They incite me more.
“Where the hell does he get off treating me like that? After everything I did for him. I was just trying to help. Why is that a bad thing?”
Byron sets down my drink and chuckles. “Oh, honey, you can’t be serious.”
“Of course I’m serious!”
He leans against his side of the bar and gives Storm a knowing look. “Gabe is a soldier. Always will be. And do you know what big, macho soldiers hate? Little girls like you babying them and treating them like invalids.”
My jaw drops and my blood pressure skyrockets. “Fuck you, Byron. That’s not what I was doing.”
Storm pulls the plastic stick from her drink and bites off the olive. “He has a point, Skye.”
“What is this, dump on Skye day?”
Byron laughs and pushes off the counter to his full height. “Cut the woe-is-me persecution complex shit. You can’t see the situation clearly because you love the man. Take a step back and pretend it was anyone other than Gabe and tell me you weren’t being a little, well, hovery.”
Hovery?
Is that even a word?
Thinking back over the last twelve days, I see myself checking his IV, reading his chart, talking with his doctors and nurses, instructing his nurses when they did something wrong, feeding him, fluffing his pillows…
Holy shit!
“Aww, fuck.” I drop my head into my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.
I had been the hovering, controlling, bossy, annoying girlfriend, and I’m not even his fucking girlfriend. Never was, really. I had been the person all nurses and doctors hate and patients complain about as soon as they leave the room. No wonder Gabe wanted me out of his place so badly.
He had barely been freed from the hospital prison for half an hour before I was creating a new harpy one in his own home.
Storm’s arm wraps around my shoulder, and she nudges me with her hip. “Don’t stress about it, Skye. When he’s feeling better, he’ll appreciate what you did for him. Just give him some space.”
Space. Pfft.
Isn’t him putting space between us what caused this entire clusterfuck in the first place? If he hadn’t pushed me away, we would have been together, and none of this would have happened.
It’s not my fault. Never was, despite what my own misplaced guilt led me to believe.
It was his, for not having the fucking balls to just say what he fucking wants and to take it.
Storm pulls her arm away when I don’t respond. “Speaking of space…have you spoken with Savage since he came to the hospital?”
I pull my head up long enough to down half of the second martini Byron made me before I answer. “No. And, frankly, I don’t want to right now. Even though he made things right for Gabe legally, I told you the things he said to me, about me, and about Gabe. That was some messed up shit right there. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him for what he said.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She shakes her head and pushes away her empty glass. “Maybe you think you do. But remember what it was like when we thought we might lose him? We already lost Star, are you really going to push Savage away over this? I already said basically the same thing to Savage, hoping it would help pull his head out of his ass.”
My stomach clenches and the martini and a half start to rise up my throat.
Gabe was right.
This is exactly what he had warned me about, what he had feared more than anything. He and I both lost Savage.
And to make things worse, we lost him and have nothing to gain from it. We’re both still alone, and while I’m not sure about him, I know I’m fucking miserable. But it doesn’t have to stay that way.