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I dozed on and off. Hospitals weren’t the quietest of places, and when the nurse came in to tell me I could go home, I was ready in minutes.
Orla wheeled me to John’s car and waved us off with a wink.
We stopped at my place, and he helped me pack a bag, including my bedtime book and PJs. He refrained from packing the butt plug, saying I needed to rest and that any sexual activity might cause my wounds to open up.
I stared at him open-mouthed. Well, that wasn’t going to fly, and I made a show of putting it in the bag, with a serious eye roll.
“If you were well, you know where you’d be.” He held his palm up to me.
“Like being banged up is going to stop me.” Seemed my sassy mouth hadn’t deserted me after all.
“God give me strength. When you’re well, young man…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but there was no need. We both knew what would happen, and I couldn’t wait.
Gone were the worries from last night. John’s presence and calming words had helped more than any drugs could or would. The tequila had been a huge mistake, one I vowed not to make again.
By the time we reached his house, it was already five in the afternoon. I was done in, despite the naps I’d had during the day.
“You get yourself up to bed, and I’ll bring you something to eat. An early night is what you need.”
Another day, I might have argued, but I climbed the stairs, undressed, and got into his king-sized bed.
Ten minutes later, he arrived with a tray laden with goodies—a bowl of soup, some toast, a jelly in a pot, and a glass of juice.
He placed it on the side, then picked up the bowl and spoon.
“Here.” He held the spoon before my lips. “Blow on it. It might be too hot right now.”
I blew, all the while keeping my eyes on his. He tilted the spoon, feeding me the tomato goodness. It was delicious, and I licked my lips.
“Can you manage the toast? I cut it as small as possible.”
How did I get so lucky with this man taking care of me?
Stuart would never have done this for me. He would have left me alone to suffer. He’d never been the patient type. John, on the other hand, was kind, caring, and the perfect partner in bed.
If he could just get this case sorted he was working on, we could move on. Again, my past was coming back to haunt me.
Patiently, John fed me every bite until it was all gone. He smiled.
“Good boy. Daddy’s really happy you’ve finished all your food. Time to wash up and clean your teeth, then bed. You need your rest. I’ll be up soon.”
I’d spent more time sleeping today than I had the past few weeks, but right now, I could sleep for a week.
“I’ll stay awake and wait for you.” I wanted him next to me, giving me the comfort I so desperately needed, but I never heard him come to bed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JOHN
Drew’s call had put the fear of God into me. I thought for one awful moment, Stuart had arranged an accident.
When I arrived at the house, Drew led me to the kitchen.
Liam was being treated by paramedics. By the amount of blood, I thought he’d slashed an artery.
Thankfully, the cut on his hand was superficial, the one on his head, not so much. He’d bled like a stuck pig. It definitely needed stitches or, at the very least, glueing.
After they left, I helped Drew clean up, and we drove to the hospital. Drew had stuck around as long as he could, but he had gone home to sleep. He still needed to work the following day.
