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I closed my eyes, not because I was finished with the conversation, but because the morphine was flowing and I felt myself slipping away from consciousness.
“We’re not done with this discussion,” Colt whispered in my ear.
“You haven’t told me you loved me,” I mumbled.
“I thought that was a given.”
“I told you I loved you after you got shot. It’s courteous to repay in kind.”
His lips brushed my forehead. “I love you. Losing you would devastate me. My life has no meaning without you. There. Are you happy?”
I smiled, my eyes still closed, “Your delivery needs work, but yeah, Colt. That made me happy.”
The next time I woke up, it was late at night and Colt was standing by the window, staring out at the hospital grounds.
He must have heard me stir and turned back to look at me. There was hardly any moon or starlight, and I could only faintly make out the outline of his big, brawny body.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, stalking toward my bedside and reaching for the pitcher of water.
“I don’t know.” I pressed my tongue to the roof of my dry mouth. “Will you flip on the lamp?”
He did as I requested.
“How do I feel,” I repeated. “Like down is up and up is down. Like my emotions are all scrambled and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”
“You’re supposed to feel whatever you want to feel.”
I frowned, taking the glass of water and bringing the straw to my lips. After I had my fill, Colt took it from me and set it aside.
“You haven’t kissed me. You’ve barely touched me,” I said.
“You’re in a hospital bed. Did you kiss or touch me when I was laid up in bed?”
“I think I did touch you. And I think you wanted me to touch you. Why won’t you touch me now? I’m not talking carnal—just gentle intimacy. I know something is going on with you. What is it?”
“I’m fucking livid with you,” he said, his voice dispassionate. “I’ve had hours to think while you’ve been asleep and I just—haven’t figured out how to wrap my head around your actions.”
I watched him pace the room as he vented.
“I can’t believe Gray and Torque didn’t have the good sense to keep you out of this.”
“Out of this,” I repeated. “Where have you been the last few weeks? This was all because of me.”
“It wasn’t all because of you.”
“Fine. I was the catalyst that got it all moving.” I swallowed. “What’s the opposite of the Midas touch, Colt?”
“I don’t follow.”
“You know, Midas. Everything he touches turns to gold? Well, everything I touch turns to ash.”
His gaze softened in understanding. “Ah, darlin’.”
“No, don’t.” I held up my hand to stop him. “I’m not looking for sympathy. Okay? I was just—I had to help clean up the mess I brought into your life. To the Blue Angels’ lives. For me. For you. For Shelly.”
Saying her name out loud hurt me. Saying her name felt like summoning a ghost. A fissure of emotion erupted in my body shoving away the numbness that had enveloped me.
The tears were gentle at first and then they turned into a cascade. I became a careening, mourning woman who sounded like a deranged animal in pain.
