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I look into the eyes of the man standing next to the bed. I see his pain, his helplessness. Then I realize he isn’t in his wheelchair. Sure, he has been able to move more freely, but with the hard workouts, rushing to me is not good for his injuries.
“Hammer, sit down. Don’t overdo it!”
“Ethan,” he responds, seeming to ignore my concern.
“What?” I ask him, thoroughly confused. Did he fall down and hit his head? Because he’s making no sense right now.
“You called me Hammer. I want you to call me Ethan.”
I’m suddenly shocked to the bone. I know from being around Tank and the Hellions that the men in motorcycle clubs generally insist everyone call them by their road names. It helps protect their identities in sticky situations.
“Are you okay?” he asks, moving to sit beside me.
No, I want to answer, still in shock from Hammer—no, Ethan’s—unusual order and overall presence and trembling from the nightmare.
Leaning down, he tosses my pillows and blankets back up onto the bed.
Breathlessly, I answer, “No—yes … I don’t know.”
“Why aren’t you on the couch?”
Well, that takes my mind off my bad dream.
“I thought we could use some space.”
He gives me a half-grin. “Des, space is the last thing I plan to put between us.”
I gasp at his bold declaration. “This is probably a bad idea.”
“We won’t know if we don’t try.”
“I’m too tired to think about anything.”
He scoots up and over, putting himself on the pillow beside mine. Lying on his back, he pulls me back against his side. “Get some rest. I’m here to chase the bad dreams away.”
Inhaling, I smell him: musk and man. There is a true comfort he gives me that I can’t explain.
Rather than fight with him, I close my eyes and try to get the thoughts of knives, trees, and blood out of my mind.
What the hell am I doing?
Chapter
13
~Hammer~
When she finally relaxes against me, I breathe a sigh of relief.
The burn in my hips shoots down my legs, tingling into my feet. I am thankful to have feeling, but rushing across the condo took its toll. When she cried out, I felt helpless being so far away. Nothing was going to stop me from getting to her. Having her scared stirred up things inside me I have never felt before.
Helplessness. Protectiveness. Fear.
She lies silently against me. I’m not sure if she’s asleep or not.
It doesn’t matter. Whispering to the empty room around us, I confess exactly what I feel tonight. There is no holding back anymore.
“Des, you wanna heal my broken body. I wanna heal your damaged soul.”
She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. I can only assume she’s drifted back to the land of dreams. I can now only hope, in my arms, she is safe from all pain, including in her nightmares.
At some point, I fall asleep and wake when I feel her move beside me. It takes me a moment to remember I’m in my guest room with her.
Reaching out, I grab her hips before she can slide completely away, and she turns to look over her shoulder at me, her curls flying.
“Ethan,” she whispers, and my dick comes to life. “I’ve gotta pee.”
I release her, laughing. Then I close my eyes as she leaves the room and somehow manage to fall back asleep.
When I open my eyes again, I want to scream as I see the wheelchair pulled up beside her bed and hear Desirae in the kitchen.
I’m frustrated as hell. I don’t want to rely on this chair. I don’t want to be confined anymore. I don’t care how hard I push and what it does; I’m not using that thing, not today. If I can manage, not ever again.
Rolling over, I slowly work my way out of bed, thankful no one is here to see me; my movements are far from pretty.
I think of the exercises and stretches. She always wants me to be aware of my movements and how my weight shifts so I can maintain the best balance and posture for healing. I let my mind drift and think of how far I have come in healing, as well as how far I have come with Desirae. We have this connection, and I don’t want to think of her not being here. She found a way to fit into my life, which is something I honestly never thought would happen for me.
I hear voices in the other room and realize Evan is here. My baby brother, the little boy who once thought I was his hero.
For a moment, I let my mind go to a dark place. I’m no one’s hero anymore. Hell, I can’t help wondering if I will ever be whole again.
Then I think of Desirae. I think of the information Screech sent me within hours of my request. I think of her life before and what she has lost: her sister, her best friend, and she can never get her back.
