Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Husband?
My heart lurched.
In a surprised, then confused, then interested way.
My gaze slid to Gracie, who was holding her hand pointedly to her chest, two rings sitting on the third finger of her left hand.
That was how she got in.
Saying she was my wife.
And with both of us fucked up, they probably just assumed we’d been together when shit had gone down.
“Okay. Sure. I’ll… step out. Get some coffee.”
“Get me one too.”
“Can he have coffee?” she asked.
“We don’t usually recommend it. But I won’t be watching him to make sure he doesn’t have it.” He actually offered Gracie a little wink.
“I’ll be right back,” she said, giving me, then the doctor, a small smile before heading out.
“I hear she has been here with you for hours. The nurses didn’t have the heart to tell her to get off the bed.”
He went over the spiel then, telling me about the surgery, about my outlook, about my recovery.
I was stuck in the ICU for at least another day before I was moved to a floor. But I was told that from there, they’d be quick to release me.
“Get home and let that sweet wife look after you,” he said, giving me a nod before heading out.
I expected Gracie to come right back in.
But it was someone else entirely whose frame swallowed up the door.
Duke.
And that look on his face said he knew it all.
Shit.
“Look,” I said before he could lash into me, “I’ve got no excuse—”
“No excuse,” he repeated, stepping closer. And, fuck, if that gait didn’t look predatory. Like he might suffocate me in my hospital bed. And I couldn’t even blame him. “For saving my daughter’s life?” he asked, head cocking to the side.
There was weight under his words, though, a knowing look on his face.
If he’d gone looking for Gracie and found her asleep on me in the bed, there was no way he thought it was just in gratitude for trying to rescue her.
“Duke…” I said, shaking my head.
“Look,” he said, moving to the edge of the bed, hands grabbing the plastic footboard, “the club, the rules, that’s between you and Fallon. I don’t give a shit about the rules. I care about my daughter and who is, and isn’t, good for her.”
“I know—” I started.
“And I’ve watched her date a few no-good fucking losers who didn’t know how lucky they were to have her in their lives.”
“Didn’t know what they had,” I said, shaking my head. I couldn’t imagine having her and letting her slip through your fingers.
“And the thing is, I think you do.”
“I don’t deserve her.”
“Something about the way she screamed to be let go so she could run to you says maybe that’s not true.
“Look,” he said, exhaling hard, “it’s not my place to police who my daughter dates. She’s grown. She makes her own decisions. But it is my place to remind you that if that girl comes to me crying about you someday, I take making you pay for that very fucking seriously.”
“I wouldn’t even fight you.”
To that, he nodded.
“You good?”
“I’ll recover.”
“You took three bullets trying to save my kid. I don’t take that lightly.”
“Dad?” Gracie asked, tone worried.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, turning to the side to look at her.
His face tightened as he took her in. It was probably the first chance he got to see her once the bruises really settled in.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“My head hurts.”
“You were supposed to have medicine by now,” he said, tone partially chastening.
“Don’t be mad at Mom,” she demanded. So that was how she got out. “Or Rune.”
Rune.
That made a certain kind of sense.
Him with those knowing looks.
“I’m not mad at anyone today,” Duke said. “My girl is safe. That’s all that matters. But I am gonna go make your mother get some sleep. She’s been up all night in the waiting room.”
“I love you,” she said when he pressed a hand to her cheek.
“I love you too. Perish, get well soon.”
With that, he was gone.
Gracie stood there with a coffee in each hand and a small brown bag hanging from her fingers.
“Um…”
“He knows,” I told her.
“Did he threaten you?”
“Yes. But only if I hurt you. He’s… okay with it.”
“What? Really?”
“Don’t gotta sound so surprised,” I said, letting out a chuckle that made the wound in my side hurt.
“Don’t laugh,” she grumbled, rushing forward to put the cups and bag down on my tray.
“I’m fine. Doctor isn’t worried. I’ll move down to a floor tomorrow, then once the doctors clear me, I’m out.”
“Well, don’t take any chances. No laughing.”
“I’ll try. What do you have there?” I asked, looking at the bag, suddenly aware of my churning, empty stomach.
“Bagels. I know you’ll get breakfast eventually. But they serve, you know, human size portions. And you—stop!” she demanded when I started to chuckle.
“Stop making me laugh then,” I suggested. “What’d you get?”