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Braxton.
The asshole.
Wasn’t that something?
I almost lost Bain and he gained a precious life.
Life was so unfair.
“What and why did she do this?” I asked.
“She says it’s because they got insurance taken out on him,” Sunny explained gently. “She said she needed money for this baby. And the easiest way she could think of was to get his insurance payout. Though, this was something that Braxton, apparently, has had for a long time. He got it when Bain went to prison in preparation for him dying there. He thought that prison meant an automatic death sentence. But he underestimated your boy there.”
Anger started to rocket through me.
Son of a bitch.
I whipped around and glared at the man that I’d once called my husband. “He’s such a piece of work.”
“She said that she contacted whomever she originally spoke to about the hit. She gave me that information, too. We’re going to be checking that out on our own, A, to make sure that the hit still isn’t out on you. And B, because buying a hit to be placed on someone is quite the opposite of legal.” Sunny paused. “As of right now, Braxton is going to be questioned about his girlfriend’s antics. But he’s not being accused of any wrongdoing.”
How did he always manage to get out of this? How did he always manage to make sure he came out squeaky clean?
I mean, buying an insurance policy on someone in hopes that they died was utterly ridiculous.
“I guess update me with anything else you might hear?” I requested, voice dull and lifeless. “It would be nice to relay all of this information to the boys. I’m sure they’re all here by now.”
Though I hadn’t seen any of them since I got into the trauma area, I knew that they had to be here. Bain was one of theirs. Not brothers by blood, but brothers by choice.
They wouldn’t leave one of their own no matter what.
“We got him back!” I heard said.
Everything we’d been talking about was forgotten as I left in the middle of what Sunny was saying next. I went to stand as far into the room as I could without getting in the way, which admittedly wasn’t very far.
I wanted to rush to his side, place my hands on his cheeks and look into his eyes. To see the life that always shined there.
But instead, I stayed where I was, my eyes on the man on the gurney.
The man that’d been straddling his chest climbed off and that was when I saw that his shirt was completely soaked in sweat.
I would bake him a pie. Or better yet, I’d buy him one. That would taste better.
He pulled his soaked shirt away from himself, revealing a portly belly.
Like a big, lifesaving teddy bear.
Tears leaped into my eyes, making it hard to see.
“Ma’am,” the same nurse from earlier said, calling to me. “Come here. Talk to him.”
I didn’t need her to tell me why she wanted me to talk to him. I knew.
It was more than obvious in the way she spoke and the way her eyes said, “this might be your last time,” that she wanted me to get those few more moments with him… just in case.
I swallowed hard, feeling something inside of my throat start to close off.
She took my hand, seeing that I couldn’t force myself to take that first step and led me around the flurry of people until I was standing beside his head.
Bain’s face looked… wrong.
There was a lot of blood. His beard was stained with it, turning it a lot more red than usual. His eyes were barely open and he had a mark around his nose and mouth that the mask that’d been helping him breathe earlier had given him.
“Bain,” I whispered, unable to help the heartbreak in my voice. “Are you there, baby?”
His eyes peeked open from slits to half-open and I felt my heart rejoice.
He blinked twice, then in a broken voice, he said, “Yeah, baby.”
I pressed both of my hands on either side of his face, being careful of the laceration at his chin, and said, “I love you.”
His mouth kicked up, and I saw that he was missing two teeth. Poor guy.
“You look like a hockey player,” I teased. “You’re missing two teeth. It’s kind of cute.”
He jerked his lips up in a small smile. “It’ll buff.”
I snickered.
Those missing teeth definitely wouldn’t buff.
They’d have to be surgically fixed. He’d have to have veneers.
But… if he was alive, then I was sure that I wouldn’t give a single shit what we had to do to make him pretty again.
I pulled the ring from my pocket, eyed the way-too-big piece of metal that otherwise was gorgeous and held it out.
I’d taken it off shortly after walking into the room, after showing Braxton that it was “mine.”
