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Despite the pain I feel—pain I shouldn’t give a fuck about anymore—I let my gaze travel around the room. Lyla is beside T’s bed, holding his hand. She’s worn out. She’s been there for the last four hours—ever since they brought him back here from surgery. Ford is standing close by her, but you can tell as much as he’s worried about his daughter, he’s worried about T, too. Then, there is T’s people—his family—not that I know what that is. Never had one and I never will. Dragon is standing on the opposite side of the bed as Lyla. His woman, Nicole, is sitting in a chair beside him. She has her hand on T’s shoulder and I don’t think she’s moved it since she arrived. She’s crying, but you would never know it. Lyla’s tears are mournful—her cries full of pain. Nicole cries silently. Tears run down the side of her face without a sound. I honestly don’t know which is worse. They both cut you up. There are several men standing around the room, too. I don’t know any of them, but they all have Savage cuts on. Most seem close to Dragon’s age, so I figure they are the OG officers of the club. One is Dancer and I only know that because of the way Grunt’s old lady greeted him as her dad. T’s brother, Dom, is standing in the corner with a hot chick standing beside him. Grunt said pussy comes easy to the boy, and from looking at the high dollar piece beside him, I’m a believer. She’s fine as hell. I’ve noticed she limps a little when she walks, and I wouldn’t mind helping her to rub the ache out.
These people love T. That’s clear. I don’t want to say I feel jealousy because that’s not exactly what it is. Still, a man can’t help but wonder what it would feel like. No one would care if I lived or died. It doesn’t bother me. It just makes it hard to wrap my mind around what type of life T must have had growing up. From looking at them, if you look beyond the love, I wonder if that’s why he found it so easy to move here. A man could suffocate not being able to stand up alone and learn who he is.
My gaze jerks up as an alarm bell rings out in the room. The atmosphere was already tense but with that noise blaring out like that, it ratchets it up to the point that you need a knife to cut through the air just to fucking breathe.
Lyla loses it. “No,” she cries, squeezing T’s hand. She presses her face against his chest. “Keep fighting Thomas, I need you. I love you,” she whispers, the sound so mournful that fuck it tears me up.
Nurses come running in and people scatter as they work. One of them is wearing black scrubs that have purple roses all over them. Her hair is pulled up off her head, revealing the curve of her neck. The color is a lush brunette, thick and long with traces of this deep red that run through it. She’s gorgeous and grabs my attention even in that shapeless garb she’s wearing that refuses to show me her body.
“It’s okay,” she says. “A couple of leads came loose and caused the machine to read the wrong numbers. He’s doing good, all things considered. There’s really no need for all of you to be here. It may be quite some time before we see any changes.”
She stands there like she expects them all to just file out and clear the room. The doctors have tried that and were ignored. It’s clear she is going to be too. She frowns and purses her full red lips. “Alrighty then,” she mutters under her breath.
There’s nothing good about this entire day and there sure as hell hasn’t been anything funny, but my lips still twitch as I watch her. She gives a small shrug and then walks back toward me. She’s the only one of the staff leaving the room that looks up at me. That’s when I see her eyes. They’re green and bright—so bright that they sparkle.
“Excuse me,” she murmurs. I didn’t realize I had moved slightly to block the door. I step over so she can leave, although I don’t really want her to. I nod. I like her voice. It’s not fluffy and light like so many chicks. It’s smoky and mellow. It reminds me of sex and aged scotch—two of my favorite things.
“Lyla, sweetheart. When is the last time you’ve had anything to eat?” Nicole says, coming around to kneel in front of her. I notice the way she winces as she squats down. She tries to hide it, but pain flickers briefly over her features.
