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“Eventually, I will have to make a choice to put my faith in someone, face the mother who gave her freedom to give me mine, and keep a promise to my sister to give her everything my parents couldn’t. I want to believe I’ll have the courage to choose love, and even though you’re a horny wild man in the woods who I just met today, I want to believe you will too.” I lifted my shoulders. “’Cause it seems to me if we don’t, then they both win. My dad succeeds in trapping me in a loveless cage, and your kidnapper achieved his goal—ripping you away from your family.”
Bane whispered something. I thought it was “too perceptive” but he lifted his head, grinning, and I decided I imagined it.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about. For what it’s worth, even though you’re a random woman who trespassed on my property and tried to break my nose... I hope you choose love too.” Getting to his feet, Bane held out a hand for me. “Come on. That’s all the soul baring two strangers should do for one night. There’s something I want to show you.” Bane pulled me up and wiped my face, teasing a giggle out of me as he tickled my nose. “You’re not afraid of spiders, are you?”
“No,” I drew out. “Why?”
“Because I’m going to show you the stars.”
SUNNY
“I already ate, Bethy.” I made for my room, Fuller on my heels. “Tell Shonda to wrap it up. Her leftovers are just as good for breakfast.”
“Are you sure you’re alright, Sole? You look pale. Come here, let me—”
I gently grasped her wrist, stopping it short of my forehead. “I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day of being dead. What I need is a hot shower, change of clothes, and a scotch?”
Her lips pursed. The woman swore I was developing a drinking problem.
“I’m bringing you a plate all the same. You shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach.”
See?
I bowed deeply. “Yes, Mommy Fuller.”
“Silly boy.” She walked away, shaking her head, but damned if I didn’t hear fondness lace the reprimand. What mattered was she walked off, and didn’t see me grimace straightening up. I went into my room, shut and locked the door. Shedding the smile I wore all day, agony scrunched my forehead—ratcheting up as I peeled off my soiled clothes.
“Dammit, Gen.”
The fake shout during our fake fight was louder than I intended, since the pain was real. Between her wrenching, cycling through Cinco, and trekking ten miles back and forth through the woods. It was safe to say I went against doctor’s orders.
“What’s the damage?”
“The infection has cleared up and your scar is healing nicely.”
“That’s great. So why do you look like you’re about to tell me I’m stage four?”
Bending over, Hendrix retrieved a folder from her bag. “There’s something else we have to discuss.”
I tried to sit up. Hendrix guided me back down, taking a seat on the edge of my mattress. “Sunny, I’m afraid the fall damaged more than your liver. There’s a fracture in your vertebrae here.” She tapped a spot below my neck.
Slowly, I made my way over to the nightstand. My knife case lay there waiting for me—leather smooth on my palm, bowie knife fitted to my grip. The target hung beside the closet a mere two yards away. Impossible to miss, I mastered two yards when I was seven.
“It’s too soon to say how this will affect you. For now, you’re on bed rest. I’ll prescribe you some pain meds, and you’ll use a wheelchair. If your symptoms don’t improve or get worse, let me know right away.”
“What’s worse?”
“Severe pain.”
I raised the knife, pain rippling up my spine. Reeling back, I let it loose as a shudder jerked my arm.
“Numbness. Muscle spasms.”
My aim went wide, bouncing the blade off my door. It lay on the carpet miles from where it should be.
“It’s very important that you let me know if you experience any of the above. It’ll mean surgery, but it would be necessary to stop the compression getting worse.”
“What happens if I get the surgery?”
She hesitated—a pause that told me all I needed to know. “Months of recovery,” she finally said. “Rehab. Physical therapy. But I have every reason to believe you’ll make a full recovery.”
Hendrix went on to say more. I tuned the rest out. Like I said, the pause told me everything.
I sunk onto my chaise—opposite direction of the pain pills I’d been double and triple dosing for a week. I’d head in that direction eventually—that’s where the scotch was.
I didn’t have a drinking problem. This would be my second of the week, including the few sips of beer I had at Genny’s bar. I didn’t have a pill problem either. I loathed the stuff—hated having to take it, then take it again when one dose didn’t make a dent in the pain.
