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The shock in his eyes made my heart ache. “How?” he asked. “You now know why I tried to protect you from my world.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”
He gave me a look that told me he would humor me for now, but I had a feeling we’d be talking about this again.
“How’s Nana?” he asked.
“She’s totally fine. Having the time of her life.”
He nodded solemnly. He was probably still stewing in his self-loathing for bringing danger to me and Nana.
“She’s ordered your crew to clean her bat and get it back to her in perfect condition. And I think Leo has the hots for her, so things are getting weirder, if that’s even possible.”
No reaction. Hawk was lost in…something. His thoughts or darkness. He gingerly stretched his arm and spotted the IV drip. His gaze followed the line to the bag hanging off the headboard. “Where did you get all this stuff?”
“I’m a doctor first and foremost, remember? The supplies are a part of my home emergency kit.”
He sighed heavily. “So, you patched me up yourself after… Wait!” His eyes grew wide. He grabbed my arms. “Were you stabbed? What happened to Fiona?”
He wasn’t ready to hear I had killed her. Because then he’d be saying he was sorry for an hour. “I’m fine. Now, get some rest.”
“You’re not fine. You have a shiner the size of a grapefruit around your eye and bruising around your neck in the shape of Butch’s handprint. What other injuries do you have?”
I smoothed my thumb across his eyebrow and over his scar. “Shhh. None, I promise. You, on the other hand, have one stab wound, four slashes on your back, and a small slit on your throat.”
His grip relaxed, but his eyes darted frantically from one part of my body to another. He hadn’t been awake for long and should still be groggy, but he seemed completely alert.
“Hawk, relax. You almost died. You need to rest. Are you in pain?”
“No.” He pulled me toward him, guiding me to lie next to him. “Not when you are in my arms. Safe.” He gave my ass a squeeze. “And soft.”
I didn’t push away from him, not wanting to risk opening his stitches, so I settled into his arms. “The paracetamol probably isn’t strong enough to take away all your pain. Let me know if it hurts and—”
“I’m used to pain. Reminds me I’m alive.” He buried his nose in the crook of my neck and breathed in. “And it makes me appreciate the really good things in life.” He breathed in again and hugged me tightly.
