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“Am I done?” I don’t give her a chance to answer, shaking my hands as I rush into the bedroom. Pearl’s squinting at me. “Oh Jesus,” I gasp, bending over the bed, getting as close as I dare, trying so hard not to apply pressure where it might hurt. Which is basically everywhere. I kiss her forehead, her right cheek, avoiding her left because . . . damage.
“Shit,” she whispers, her voice rough. “Bloody hell.”
I move back, scanning her. My relief is unspeakable. Seeing her eyes open, hearing her voice. “What hurts? Where hurts? Tell me what’s hurting, my love.” My stupid, useless hands hover over her body, gliding up and down in thin air.
“Are you trying to make her levitate?” Beau asks, laughing a little as she joins us by the bed. I frown at my big hands and stow them away. “How are you feeling, Pearl?” Beau asks.
“Yes, how are you feeling?” I lean down a bit, narrowing my eyes, waiting for her to answer.
She seems to push her head back into the pillow, thinking, her forehead creased. “Oh,” she eventually whispers, looking at me. “Maggie? Rose?”
“Are fine.” Fucking hell, I can’t even be furious with her for putting herself in danger like that. “What about you?”
“Felt better,” she murmurs, holding her arm up, looking at the brace Doc’s put on. Then she inhales and hisses, feeling her torso. “Ouch.”
“Doc thinks you’ve got a few broken ribs,” I say, reaching for her fractured arm and lowering it to the mattress.
“Do you need anything for the pain?” Beau asks. “Or some water, perhaps?”
“Yes, Advil?” I ask. “Water?” Why is Beau thinking of all the important things? My brain has short-circuited. “Where’s Doc? Someone should get Doc. Beau, go get Doc.”
“Brad,” Pearl breathes, sinking farther into the bed on a wince.
Fuck. “She’s in pain. Go get Doc.”
“Brad, stop!” Pearl snaps. “Jesus, let me breathe. Just give me some space.”
I stand up straight, wounded, my face, I’m sure, if Beau’s half-smile is a measure, indignant. “To be clear,” I say, trying and failing to force the scorn from my voice. “You never get space ever again.” Pearl’s eyebrows jump up, and I move in and crowd her, making my point. “I nearly fucking lost you.” I frame her head with my forearms and get my face close to hers. “Which means any chance of space ever again is really fucking slim, do you understand me?”
She nods, looking quite startled, so I kiss away her surprise, dotting pecks everywhere I can put my lips. And she doesn’t protest. Doesn’t demand space. Much better. I finally pull away and catch Beau’s soft, knowing smile. I flip her a scowl. She can judge all she likes. Could give a fuck. Don’t.
“Oh, she’s awake.” Doc enters, happy to see his patient has come around. “How are you feeling, Pearl?”
“Like I’ve been run down by a Mercedes.”
Beau snorts, chuckling. I do not. This is not funny. I cast Beau a warning look before giving my attention to someone who will take this seriously. “I think she needs some pain relief. And some water.”
“And a pee,” Pearl adds, pushing her good hand into the mattress, trying to move.
I swoop in, blocking her. “What the hell are you doing?”
She exhales, going heavy on the bed again, giving her sleepy eyes to Doc. “I think it’s too early for visitors, Doc.”
Beau snorts unattractively again, and Doc joins her. So I’m surrounded by fucking clowns now, am I? “Tough,” I grunt. “And I’m not a visitor.”
“Then what are you?” Beau asks.
“A walking bad mood, so I recommend not fucking with me.” I round the bed and pull the blood pressure machine forward, taking the band and helping myself to Pearl’s arm. “What’s ideal, Doc?” I ask. “One-ten over seventy?”
“Around there, yes.” He takes over the controls and checks Pearl’s blood pressure again, the consistent whirring and pumping of the machine filling the silence for a few moments as I watch the digits. I nod, satisfied, when it reads a good one-fifteen over sixty-eight. The ripping sound of Velcro as Doc removes the band from Pearl’s arm makes her flinch.
“Did that hurt?” I ask, moving in, checking her arm. “That hurt. She needs pain relief.”
“Or Brad relief,” Pearl grumbles, not quietly enough for me not to hear. Beau’s laughing again.
I open my mouth, ready to launch into a lecture on acceptable levels of humor and appropriate times, but when I catch a sparkle in Pearl’s eye, my scorn fades and everything other than that in this moment feels inconsequential. She smiles. That only adds to my wonder. “Chill out,” she breathes, probably exasperated by my fussing.
“Chill out,” I mutter, dropping to a chair next to the bed, forcing her to turn her head on the pillow to see me. Such a young thing to say. “Pearl.” I shift closer, taking her hand. “I thought I’d lost you.”
