“Every bit. Rebuilt the engine, stripped the paint, replaced the suspension.” He shrugs. “When everything else goes to shit, I come here. It’s the only thing that helps clear my head.”
I get that. It’s like my runs along the river.
I stop at the driver’s side and bend down to look through the empty window frame. For a second, I let myself imagine it. The two of us in this car, driving somewhere far from Boston. Away from the Russians and Eamon and the capos. Away from my father in the hospital and my company falling apart.
Just us. Gone.
Whoa. Cue the record-scratch-sound-effect.
I’ve never wanted to run from my life. I’m the one who stays. Who fights. Who handles things.
But standing here in a sundress instead of my usual business suit armor, I realize how deep I’m letting him in. And a tiny part of me wants to drive off with him and not look back.
That scares me.
“Hey.” His voice pulls me back. “You okay?”
I blink and straighten up. “Yeah. Just thinking about how good we’d look driving down the coast.”
“Soon. Once she’s done, I’ll take you anywhere.”
I hold onto that as we lock up and head to the hospital.
We walk into the hospital room. My stomach plummets into my sandals and I give Lochlan’s hand a squeeze. Holy shit, Gavin looks so much worse than I expected.
I met him at the wedding. He was charming and funny, the kind of guy who flirts with everyone and means none of it. But he definitely doesn’t look like the life of the party right now. Deep purple and yellow bruises cover his face, his head wrapped in a tight white bandage that stands out against his dark hair. And one of his eyes is almost completely swollen shut.
A doctor stands by his bed going over discharge instructions. She’s young, maybe in her early thirties, with long dark hair gathered in a ponytail that streams down her back. Gavin watches her with a dopey grin that tells me he’s not listening to a word.
“—no screens for at least forty-eight hours. That means no phone, no television, no laptop,” she says in a stern voice.
“What if a beautiful doctor wanted to text me?” Gavin asks. “Would that count?”
She doesn’t miss a beat, her face still stoic. “It would. And I won’t be texting you.”
“Ouch, that’s harsh.” But he’s still grinning.
She turns and notices us standing in the doorway. “More family?”
“Brother and sister-in-law,” Lochlan says.
“Good. Someone needs to check on him every few hours. Headaches, dizziness, light sensitivity are all normal. If he experiences confusion, slurred speech, or vomiting, you need to bring him back immediately.”
“Got it,” his brother Cillian says from the corner of the room. I remember him, too.
The doctor gives Gavin one last look. “Rest. I mean it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He winks. She shakes her head, biting back a smile, and walks out.
“Adriana.” Gavin turns to me. “Thank God. Tell these two I don’t need a babysitter.” He points his thumb toward Cillian and another guy I recognize from the wedding but haven’t yet met. Must be Wolfe.
“You absolutely do,” Cillian says.
“I’m with Cillian,” I say, smiling. “Rest is important, but so is support from your family.”
Gavin clutches his chest. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are. Because friends bring treats.” I hold up the bag. “Foot-long Italian, extra vinegar, extra hot peppers. Does that make up for it?”
