“Of course he did,” Hope muttered. She turned back to me, her eyes softening. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
If it wasn’t for Hope and her sister Faith, I would still be sitting on the front porch.
As it was now, I was laid out on the couch in the living room, while Hope bustled about making sure I was comfortable. Stella and Faith barked orders at Digger, Charity, and Joy like drill sergeants commanding their troops.
“Digger, get the pillows from the hall closet!”
“Charity, bring the heating pad from upstairs!”
“Joy, make tea. Chamomile, not black!”
I watched the chaos unfold around me, feeling strangely detached from it all. The pain was a constant presence, throbbing in time with my heartbeat, but Hope’s hands on my shoulders grounded me.
She kneeled beside the couch, her fingers gentle as she helped me ease back against the pillows Digger had dumped unceremoniously beside me.
“Careful,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t twist. Just lean back slowly.”
I did as she said, biting back a groan as my ribs protested the movement. When I was finally settled, she pulled a blanket over me, tucking it around my legs with the kind of care that made my chest ache for reasons that had nothing to do with broken bones.
“Better?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Thanks.”
She smiled, and the sight of it eased some of the tension coiled tight in my chest. “I’ll get you some tea. Faith made soup earlier. I’ll heat some up for you.”
“Hope—”
“Don’t argue,” she said firmly. “You need to eat, and you need to rest. Doctor’s orders.”
I wanted to tell her I didn’t need to be coddled. That I’d survived worse than a few broken ribs and a concussion. But the truth was, I liked being taken care of by her. Liked the way she fussed over me, the way her hands lingered on my skin, the way she looked at me like I was something precious.
So I nodded and let her go.
Stella appeared in my line of sight, her hands on her hips and a knowing smirk on her face. “Well, well, well. Look at you, all domesticated and shit.”
“Shut up, Stella.”
“Make me.” She dropped into the chair across from the couch, crossing her legs and studying me with sharp eyes. “You look like hell, by the way.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Ghost did a number on you.”
“Yeah.”
“Good thing Digger was there to save your ass.”
I glanced at my brother, who was currently being bossed around by Faith as she directed him to move a side table closer to the couch. He caught my eye and grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos.
“Yeah,” I said again. “Good thing.”
Stella leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “You really going to marry her?”
I met her gaze, unflinching. “Yeah.”
“You love her?”
The question should have made me hesitate. Should have made me second-guess everything. But it didn’t.
