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“I’m okay.”
I laugh under my breath. Okay? Look at her. There’s not one inch of her body without a scuff or mark. “You will be.”
“Please stop stressing out.”
“Never. You could have died.”
I can see she wants to roll her eyes, but she won’t. Instead, she squeezes my hold. “At least I wouldn’t have died a virgin.”
“We need to have a discussion about your humor.”
“Okay. But can I pee first?”
I look at Doc. “Doesn’t she have one of those bag things?”
“I hadn’t got around to a catheter.” Doc rummages through his bag. “And now she’s awake, we don’t need one.”
My head retracts on my neck. “You’re surely not suggesting she walks to the bathroom.”
“That is exactly what I’m suggesting, Brad.”
“Are you insane?”
He laughs, as does Beau. For fuck’s sake. I turn to her. “Does pregnancy bring out the inner hyena in you or what?”
“Chill out,” she says, her tongue in her cheek. “Want some help?”
“Please,” Pearl replies, shaking off my hold and starting to shift up the bed.
“What? No.” I stand, looming over her. “This is madness.” I glare at Doc. “You can’t allow this.”
“I encourage movement, Brad, or her muscles will seize up. The longer she remains on her ass, the longer it’ll take to recover.”
“She has an arse,” I snap. “I have an ass, and you can kiss it.” The whole room erupts into laughter. I don’t join in.
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Doc says, leaving the room.
I gawk at him. “You’re leaving?”
“I think she’s in capable hands, Brad.” He drops his head, looking over his glasses.
Capable? I feel capable of murder. Not much else.
“I’m going to check on Rose.” Beau disappears too.
For fuck’s sake. I scan up and down Pearl’s body, wondering where to start. “Come,” I order, wrapping my arms around her waist and helping her to sit up. I get a much-needed waft of her lavender scent as I do, and it’s glorious. “You good?”
“Yeah.” She sucks back air through her teeth too many times, until she’s sitting on the edge of the bed, legs dangling. I reach for one of my T-shirts on the back of a nearby chair and stretch the neck, putting it over her head, then pull the arm down so she can thread her braced arm through the hole. Once her other arm is through, I pull it down her body, covering her. I should carry her, but that would defeat the purpose, I guess, and I can’t see how I could do that without causing too much pain. She’s covered in cuts and bruises. Absolutely covered. Broken ribs, a broken arm. I grit my teeth. Anya got off lightly. “Ready to stand?” I ask, holding her elbows as she grips the inside of mine and shuffles her ass to the edge of the bed. “Easy,” I whisper, watching her place her feet down and pad them a few times into the carpet. “Go slow. You might get a head rush.” She slowly brings her body to standing, gripping me harder.
“Yep. Head rush.” She sinks into my chest, her forehead under my neck. I feel her lashes ticking my throat past my open collar.
“Sit back down.”
“No, no, no. I’m good.”
Good?
She breaks away and peeks up at me. Smiles a little. It’s an opportunity to drink her in, and I don’t pass it up. “You need a hair tie,” I say, holding her red waves back.
