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“When he has…helicopter?” My tongue felt muzzy and my fucking belly was on fire.
“A few months ago. The new pad is around the back.”
“Spoiled…brats,” I replied as I focused on his face. There were smears of red across his cheek and soaking into his golden beard. My blood? Probably. My back felt warm and wet now. Maybe the bullet had gone clean through. That would suck. I hoped they had lots of crazy glue at the ER in Jackson Hole.
“Yeah, we’re rich assholes.” He bent down to press his soft lips to my brow. My eyes drifted shut as I breathed in the scent of him. Man, soap, a hint of horse. God, how I loved that smell.
“Love you…” I whispered. I heard him choke. Clay started yelling. Clay yelled a lot. He needed to shut the fuck up so I could tell Shepherd that I loved him. Then he could say he loved me and would never leave, and we could live happily ever after in my cabin. He could take pictures. I could whittle. We could fuck every night and ride up the steep sides of the Tetons. I could see the clouds hugging the peaks of the mountains now that my eyes were closed. It was peaceful up there. No pain. Maybe if I just rested a little bit I could touch those clouds…
I awoke next when I was being carried outside. The air was cold. My gut hurt, and I was really tired now. The sky was gray and heavy with incoming snow. Four men were hustling me along, one on each corner of whatever I’d been moved onto. The rotors of the helicopter were kicking up loose snow. The wind was bitterly cold on my face, but it didn’t really bother me all that much.
“Hey, Abbott, about time you woke up,” Shepherd said when his gaze met mine. “We’re taking you to Jackson Hole. Do not die on me, okay?”
“M’kays,” I mumbled, then grimaced as I was lifted into the waiting chopper. I must have passed out. When I came to next, we were in the air, Shepherd and me, and the sound of the rotors was deafening. Shep rubbed my cheek and said something that I couldn’t hear. Then I fell back into the blackness, his palm cupping my face as I drifted off.
There were some blurry instances when I thought I heard Shepherd speaking to me. Will too, but they were far away as if I were in a long hallway and the people I loved the most were around a corner that I couldn’t see. Pain pulled at me whenever I would be in that fuzzy corridor, so I opted out of trying to find the fucking corner. It was too tiring when all I wanted to do was sleep and touch the clouds.
The first time I slid out of the fog of near death, I could only hear people. Women. Talking about my blood pressure and other such medical shit. I tried to speak. I hurt. Fuck but I hurt. I wanted to tell them I hurt but the mist was too thick and I was far too weak. They hushed me in calming tones. The pain leeched away, and I slept again.
The smell of bacon worked its way into my dark, warm, pain free place. Mm, bacon. My brain and tastebuds seemed to think bacon would do me good for they stirred enough for me to open my eyes. I caught a glimpse of Shepherd sitting beside me in a low-back chair in the dimly-lit room with a tray of uneaten food on his lap. Will was sleeping in a chair beside Shep, his mouth hanging open. It was nice to see my brother.
“Bacon,” I wheezed, which brought Shep’s tousled head up quickly. He looked like hell but was still the most breathtaking man my sad old eyes had ever touched upon. Shep smiled and then dashed at some wetness on his cheek.
“You wake up after two days and all you ask for is bacon.” He laughed in relief. “God you’re an asshole.”
“Love bacon,” I replied and got a tender look before I drifted back off yet again.
Which sucked because I never got any bacon. And when I came to the third time bacon was the furthest thing from my mind. Someone had dialed back the pain medication in my IV and I was not in a happy place. At all. Pain roused me from my sleep. I groaned and moaned and called the pretty nurse some truly horrible things. Will and Shep stood in opposite corners as my dressings were checked and changed, arms folded, expressions terse and tight.
“Things look good, Mr. Abbott. The surgeon will be in soon to speak with you. Would you like some lunch?”
“I’d like more dope,” I grumbled, but the nurse ignored that so I went with a liquid diet lunch order. When she was gone, my brother walked to my bed, bent over, and hugged me with as much vigor as one could hug a man who’d been recently shot. I linked an arm around Will’s shoulder and kissed his head. His hair was lank and greasy. “It’s okay,” I whispered when he began crying. I saw Shep slip out the door over Will’s heaving shoulder. “I’m okay.”
He stood up slowly, his cheeks wet, his mouth a thin line. “Shit, where did that come from?” He pawed at his eyes and face, using his sleeves to dab away the tears and snot. I lay there quietly, hands resting on my sore stomach, as he got himself together. “You scared us. I thought you were going to die. They said you were barely alive when Clay landed on the roof.”
“Ugh, Clay McCrary saved my life. I need lots more drugs now,” I croaked and then tried to reach for the water pitcher. Will dashed around the bed to pour me some and helped me get the straw into my mouth. It was beyond embarrassing to need help with a stupid straw.
“Morgan died.”
“Well, shit.” I mean, yeah, I hated the guy, but I didn’t want to see him dead. The water was warm and dusty, but fuck, was it delicious.
“Donnie is in a coma. The sheriff hauled in Roxie, the Great Bear twins, and some woman who lives with Milton.” He placed the cup into my hands and sat down gingerly beside me. “The cops aren’t saying much of anything right now other than ‘it’s under investigation’ but Mark and Loren are hot to talk to you as well.”
“What the hell?”
He rolled a shoulder. “No one really knows. There are lots of rumors, but nothing solid has come out yet.” The door opened a crack and Shep slid in. Will glanced back at him, then looked down at me. “Dude has been here steady since they brought you in.”
“He’s a stubborn ass.”
Will gave me a wobbly smile and stood. “I need to walk a bit.” He gave my wrist a squeeze. “I’m glad you’re going to be okay. Do me a favor and don’t get shot again, okay? You might be a dickhead of a brother, but you’re the only dickhead of a brother I have.”
“Do my best,” I replied as the changing of the guard took place. Shep planted his fine ass on the edge of my bed, his hand slipping under and cupping mine. He rubbed the back of my hand tenderly with his thumb, mindful of the IV needle sticking out of my vein. “Howdy, cowboy.”
“Howdy.” He tried to smile, but it failed miserably. “I’m…you asshole.”
That made me chuckle, which made me grunt in pain. Fuck, but a bullet wound hurt. “I had to do something. Couldn’t let Donnie shoot you.” He rolled his eyes. “Sorry about Morgan.”
He nodded silently as he blew out a long, reedy breath. A beam of sun canted across the room, falling on his haggard but still handsome face. “Me too. He was a bastard, but he didn’t deserve to be shot in the face.”
