Searing pain stabs my abdomen and radiates throughout my body. Every single inch of me is a giant, raw nerve.
“Fuck…”
I try to roll onto my side to tuck myself into a ball, but the motion just sends new arrows of agony shooting everywhere. A gasping breath is all I can manage as I try to breathe through it and the nausea now rolling through my stomach.
“Motherfucking fuck…”
Even opening my eyes hurts.
The clock next to my bed reads 2:00.
Well, shit.
I missed the pain med dose I was supposed to take at noon. That would explain the utter misery I’m in right now.
A vivid image of the medication bottles on the coffee table jumps into my head, and I groan. How the hell am I supposed to get all the way out there to get them. I can’t even roll over without the pain making me want to puke.
Admitting Skye was right is like taking a swift kick to the junk. I would prefer a kick to the junk over the agony I’m in right now.
But, the truth is, I fucking need someone to get my meds for me.
Dani.
She’s right across the hall—hopefully. And I sure as fuck hope she won’t freeze me out the way Savage has.
I just need to call her.
But where the hell is my phone? Another glance at the nightstand tells me I’m shit out of luck. No phone. When was the last time I even had it?
It’s not like anyone was calling to check on me while I was in the hospital. The only people who have ever given a shit about me are the Hawkes, and I fucking blew that now too. I will never be able to be a part of the family again. Savage won’t even talk to me, and chances are, it’s only a matter of time before Skye stops wanting to speak to me too.
She’s still holding out hope I’ll change my mind. And maybe I would have, if I hadn’t seen the way Savage reacted in my room.
He will never forgive me. But he will forgive her, because she’s blood. After losing Star, he will eventually get over his feeling of betrayal and forgive Skye rather than lose her too. Things between them will probably never be the same, but at least there’s hope there.
If I’m selfish and tell her how I really feel—that I want nothing more than to be with her, that I can barely take a breath without thinking about her, and that I have no fucking clue how I’m supposed to go on every day without her in my life—she’ll be here in an a millisecond and Savage will be gone not only from my life, but hers as well.
Fuck.
As if the anguish of losing her isn’t bad enough, I need to get those fucking meds before the agony makes me pass out again.
Phone.
Need to find my phone.
I grit my teeth and fight through the searing pain to pull myself into a sitting position against the headboard.
A cold sweat covers my skin and the trembling of my body brings back very unwelcome memories from the cabin.
Breathe.
In.
Out.
Repeat.
I force my legs over the side of the bed and pause again to work through the pain before I even make an attempt to stand. My hand grasps the night stand, and I push myself up.
Sweet motherfucking Christ…
Agony rips the air from my lungs and I sway, the only thing keeping me upright is my death-grip on the table.
Instead of cursing Lucas for my current state, I can only blame myself. I probably deserve this. Karma can be a real fucking bitch, and I pissed her the fuck off.
Fucking your best friend’s little sister is pretty high on the bro code violation list. I never should have gone to her apartment that night. What the fuck did I think I was going to accomplish? How could I have really thought I had the willpower to be alone with her like that and not act on what I knew we were both feeling?
Shit.
Phone. Find it.
I push up off the table. The room spins, and I wobble but manage to keep myself upright.
Living room. Just make it to the living room.
Each step is a test of not only my physical will but also my mental fortitude. With my hand on the doorjamb, I pause momentarily before venturing into the hallway.
Deep breath.
Step forward.
I place my right palm flat against the wall and inch my way toward the living room.
The agonizingly long hallway stretches out in front of me.
My vision blurs at the edges, and I pause again. This was a bad idea. I’m not going to make it. I’m going to collapse on the damn hardwood floor and probably die here, alone and hated by the only family I’ve ever known.
The elevator dings when it reaches the top floor, and I wonder for the thousandth time if I’m making a mistake coming here again.
He doesn’t want you here.
I step out into the hallway, and my eyes automatically go to the left, to Savage and Dani’s door. He still hasn’t spoken with me, or anyone else in the family for that matter, and I’m beginning to think it will take an act of God for him to come out of his Fortress of Solitude and Assholeness.
Ignoring the burning desire to knock on their door, I turn to the one on the right and pause to collect myself.
Don’t mother him. Don’t ask him to make decisions about the future while he’s high on pain meds and recovering from the ordeal. Don’t say something smart assy that you’ll regret later. Don’t be you.
The knob turns easily in my hand. It still blows my mind that Gabe and Savage never lock their doors. I mean, I get it. The elevator is secured with a passcode to reach their floor, but considering how anal Gabe is about security, I would have expected him to have ten locks, not zero.
Not wanting to wake him if he’s asleep, I inch the door open quietly and slip inside. The living room lights are off but the midafternoon light streams in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
My eyes immediately go to the coffee table where I left Gabe’s medications and cell phone before I stormed out.
Shit.
The bottles lay in the same haphazard positions, and his phone sits unmoved.
He didn’t take his meds.
Fuck.
I drop my purse onto the couch and practically race to where the hallway leading to his bedroom branches off from the living room.
“Gabe!”
He’s little more than a huddled mass on the floor halfway down the hall. The only response I receive to calling his name is a muffled groan. I fall to my knees in front of him and pull his head up from where it’s buried against his arm.
His eyes flutter open and he grimaces. “Skye?”
“Jesus, Gabe. What the hell are you doing?”
With what looks like great effort, he sucks in a breath and brushes my hand away from his face. “I was going to get the meds…or my phone…something? Fuck…”
I knew I shouldn’t have left him.
Internal bleeding or return of the infection are my biggest concerns. I grab his wrist and check his pulse. Some of the tension in my chest releases when it’s 110. His pain must be off the charts right now, but his pulse isn’t high enough to overly concern me.
“Okay, big guy, let’s get you back in bed. I’ll bring you everything you need.”
His eyes narrow, and for a brief moment, I think he’s going to be stupid enough to fight me on this. Then the fight leaves his glassy gaze, and his head drops again. “All right.”
Admitting he needs my help was probably a giant knock to Gabe’s ego, but it seems like a step in the right direction.
I pull his arm up over my shoulders and he curses with even that little movement. Getting up is really not going to feel good.
“Here we go. On three. One, two, three.” I push up and drag as much of his weight as I can while he tries to help me get him on his feet. His head falls forward, and I’m surprised his jaw doesn’t break with how hard he’s grinding it together.
His room is only ten steps away, but with all two hundred and twenty pounds of him leaning against me, it seems like much farther. I can only imagine what it feels like to him. Probably ten miles.
“Let’s get this done one step at a time.” He nods, and we shift forward slowly—inch by agonizing inch.
I fight back the tears burning in my eyes.
Don’t cry. He’s going to be fine.
It doesn’t matter that the nurse in me knows he’ll recover from his injuries or that this pain is only temporary; the hormonal, overly-emotional, stereotypical girl in me wants to sob at seeing him suffer.
But crying will do neither of us any good.
Suck it up, Skye.
I push through my swelling emotions and concentrate on getting him horizontal. By the time we finally reach his room and stand next to his bed, a cold sheen of sweat covers his face and he’s shaking against me.
There’s no way he could have made it back here by himself, or to the living room to reach his meds for that matter. He was here all alone, and if I hadn’t come by…
No. Stop. That didn’t happen.
I shake my head and help lower him down to the bed. The strangled groan emanating out from between his clenched teeth makes me wince. He takes several ragged, uneven breaths before grimacing.
He doesn’t say anything, but it’s clear he’s not making it the rest of the way on by himself. I reach down and help lift his legs up onto the bed. When he’s finally lying down, the number one priority becomes getting his medication into him so he can rest.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“As if I could…even if I wanted to…”
I dash back to the living room, scoop up the medication bottles and his phone. There’s no way in hell I’m going to leave him without a way to communicate again. It was so fucking stupid not to make sure he got to bed okay. Even though he would have fought me with whatever energy he had left, I should have known he was too out of it to do it himself.
After a quick stop to the kitchen for a bottle of water, I bolt back to him. He hasn’t moved an inch. If it weren’t for the way his face is scrunched up in pain, I would think he’s asleep.
“Here, take these.” I dump two Percocet into my hand and open the bottle of water for him. His eyes flutter open and lock with mine. “You’re going to need to sit up a little bit.”
“You say that like it’s easy.” He groans and pushes himself up on his good arm until he’s semi-reclining.
I hold the pills up to his mouth and his lips brush my fingers when he takes them. That fleeting touch against my skin sends a shiver down my spine. Vivid memories of those lips devouring my mouth and pussy heat my body.
His eyes study me as I hold the water up for him. Why does he have to look at me like that? He’s in agony but his gaze still sets me on fire. And why does it have to be so fucking sexy to watch the muscles of his neck flex when he swallows?
Only Gabe could turn taking medication into fucking foreplay.