Page 39 of Life Or Death

Later that day, I got a text from her. There were no words, just a photo of a completed word search.

I didn’t respond. Things had gone south with the club regarding Rodeo Roundup. With our insurance claim having been denied, the rebuild was all on us.

But even with the money coming in from the Satan’s Knights, it didn’t cover the expenses. They weren’t taking the guns fast enough, and even if they wanted to, we didn’t have enough on hand to meet their demands. This led to us having to shop for additional suppliers.

Our options were limited, though. Oklahoma wasn’t ideal for transporting overseas, which made getting guns from Mexico more appealing. A couple of us would have to cross the border, and finding time to do that was an issue with Shadow’s wedding to Della looming over us.

When it became clear I wasn’t going to reach a solution to our problems, I took off for the hospital. I made a pit stop for food, opting for burgers.

Jess was sitting in the chair in the corner of her room when I arrived. She was dressed in another pair of loose-fitting pants, but instead of pairing them with her hospital gown, she wore a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair was combed and fell around her shoulders in loose waves. Her face bare except for some lip gloss.

She looked young, and really fucking pretty.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” I asked, not bothering with a hello.

“They don’t bring dinner for another hour.”

“Good, then I’m just in time.” I placed the bag of food on the table next to her bed and made my way over to her. “Do you want me to set it up over here, or are you more comfortable eating in bed?”

She looked bewildered, and I really didn’t blame her. I went from avoiding her and creeping out of her room before she could wake, to bringing her dinner two nights in a row. I was giving myself whiplash.

“Over here is fine. Marcus has to help me back to bed, and he’s with other patients.”

An irrational sense of jealousy washed over me. I knew Marcus was her physical therapist, and that he was just doing his job, but I wasn’t fond of her having to rely on another man to help her to bed.

Another sign that I was in way over my fucking head, but I ignored it and unpacked our dinner. We ate in silence for a while, then I asked her about her day. She told me she walked some more, and spoke with Tori, who said she’d be coming to visit tomorrow.

That’s when I decided I would spend the night again. If Tori was going to be there to keep her company the following day, there was no reason for me to show my ugly mug until later the next night.

After dinner, Marcus came into the room, and instead of Sandy helping him get Jess to bed, I did.

The next night, when I returned to the hospital, Jess was asleep. I took my post in the chair beside her bed and waited for the nightmare to come, but it never came.

It’s been a week since she’s had one, and while that should provide some sort of relief, it doesn’t because I know it’s only a matter of time before she tells me to get lost.

Last night she made me leave before she even fell asleep.

I didn’t like it. In fact, I fucking hated it, and I don’t know if that’s because I didn’t know what to do with myself or if I just didn’t like being apart from her.

“You don’t have to keep bringing me dinner,” she says as I unpack the sushi I picked up.

And there it fucking is . . .

I slam the chopsticks down on the table a little too hard. The plastic snaps against the surface, and Jess flinches.

“You gotta eat, right?” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. “Hospital food is shit. You said so yourself last week.”

Jess stares at me, her lips parted, and I can see the war behind her eyes—the one where she’s trying to figure out why I’m being such a dick.

Good luck, babe.

“I just . . .” She trails off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Obligated.” My jaw clenches as I let the word sit between us for a beat. “You think that’s what this is?”

In the beginning, I was grappling with my guilt, and I did feel obligated to do everything in my power to help her, including the late-night visits. But bringing dinner and watching random game shows with her—I don’t do that shit out of obligation.

I don’t even do it out of obsession.