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A beautiful woman’s hand close to his crotch made him want to grab her and grind his body against hers. Hellfire stabbing back pain made him want to collapse on the floor in a ball. Or pass out again. That would work for him too.
But goddamn it, he had to piss.
So he stumbled forward, Isobel struggling to help him toward the small bathroom.
Isobel shook her head. “They should have kept you another day at the hospital. What were they thinking?”
So this was probably not the best time to tell her he vaguely remembered the doctor saying something about strongly recommending that he stay another day for rest and observation. And Hunter being like, screw that, I can walk, I’m just fine.
Yeah. He was thinking Isobel didn’t ever need to know that little detail.
He staggered the last few steps to the bathroom and then grabbed the doorframe to hold himself up.
When he stepped inside and flicked on the light, Isobel started to follow. “Whoa.” He moved to block her path. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She put a hand on her hip. “Don’t be a baby. You need help.”
She tried to slip past him but he held out his arm to bar her way. She must have seen the grimace on his face at the action—no matter what he did, it seemed to pull at his back. She immediately stilled.
“Are you okay?” Then her face fell. “Of course you’re not okay.”
Her lips pinched together and her eyes got watery. “I am so sorry, Hunter. I never even apologized last night. But I’m so, so sorry.” She looked absolutely stricken. “You’ll never know how sorry. I can’t believe how stupid I was to risk your life when—”
“Hey.” He ignored the pain it caused to lift his hand to cup her cheek. Her hand-wringing stopped and she went absolutely still, her large blue eyes coming up to meet his. “It’s not your fault. These things just happen. We don’t have any control over them.”
That was one of the steps, after all. Acceptance. He couldn’t go back and change anything that had happened with Janine—no matter how many times he called the number she never picked up to apologize to her.
What happened had happened. As sure as if it was set in cement. There was no time-travel to go back and undo it. No, ‘if only I’d known then what I know now.’ That was all bullshit fantasy.
Maybe everything had been fated before it even happened. Written down in some book in the sky, predetermined. So even if he could go back in time, nothing would have turned out any different.
Some days that thought comforted him.
Others it tortured him.
But Isobel was just shaking her head, eyes haunted. “If I hadn’t been so stubborn, insisting we get Beauty to the hospital right that second—”
“Stop it.” His voice was sharp. “There are no what ifs. There’s just now. And we’re both h
ere now.”
She stilled and he noticed her clenched fists loosen. She took a deep breath in. Was she letting go of her guilt? He hoped so. It was no way to live. He should know.
Her eyes dropped half-closed and she turned her head slightly, nuzzling her cheek into his hand as if without thinking about it.
This woman.
Fuck. Did she know what she did to him? And not just below the belt. Her sweetness. Her sassiness. Her intelligence. He’d never met anyone like her.
“I was so scared,” she whispered. Her breath was hot on his palms. Her lips so close to his skin.
She was so beautiful. Delicate but strong. A winter rose, like his mom used to grow. His chest filled. He felt… She was just…
Her eyes widened suddenly and she jerked back from him. “Sorry. I’m supposed to be the one taking care of you.” She dropped her eyes as she stepped out of the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
As soon as she closed the door, the pain that he’d been briefly distracted from made itself known again. He didn’t bother hiding his grimace since Isobel couldn’t see him now.
He turned his back toward the mirror and looked over his shoulder. He tried lifting up the back of his shirt to check out the damage, but twisting his arm like that hurt like hell so he quickly gave up. All he could see was the edge of a bandage anyway.
