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Peace.
Even amid the excruciating pain.
A stab of pain gets me, and I grunt, curling my body in protectively to stem it. “Fuck.”
“Sorry!”
I open my eyes, groaning, not knowing whether to clench my stomach or my shoulder.
“God dammit, Brad!” Beau yells, slipping off the bed with as little disruption to me as possible.
“Do you two ever stop?” he asks, appearing at the end of the bed, looking me up and down with a scowl. “Even crippled you’re insatiable.”
I fucking wish.I return his scowl and try to sit up some more. And fail.
“Be still,” Beau warns, her stern words making me go limp again. She takes some water from the nightstand and holds the straw at my lips. I’m in no position to contest her help. This is hideous. I latch on and slurp, noticing Brad’s sling has gone.
“Fighting fit,” he declares, obviously noticing I’ve noticed, gingerly lowering to the end of the bed. “Jerking off’s still off the menu though.”
I cough, and water shoots out of my nose, spraying my chest. “Fuck!” I yelp, as a tidal wave of pain rolls through me. Beau glares at Brad, who raises his hands in surrender.
“No jerking off? No jokes?” He pouts. “What kind of life is this?”
I hold on to my laughter—the pain just isn’t worth the lightness. “She’ll kill you,” I say seriously, making him smirk at Beau as she holds him in place with a look of pure filth.
“How are you feeling?” he asks. “Or is that a stupid question?”
“It’s a stupid question,” Beau says, collecting the bowl of water and wash cloth off the nightstand and heading to the bathroom. “But you’re stupid so it figures.”
I smile at her back as Brad rolls his eyes, keeping his attention pointing my way. “What—”
“If you’re here to talk about work you can leave,” she calls.
Brad drops his chin to his chest, exasperated. “I’m—”
“Or I’ll happily walk you out.”
He hitches a brow. “I should probably just leave, right?”
I nod. “Probably.”
He doesn’t move, the daredevil. “So, how are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been shot.” I grimace as I shift a fraction. “Twice.” I huff, my neck hurting. “Can you just...” I lift my head, trying to find a firmer part of the pillow.
“What?”
“I can’t...” I nestle into it, huffing, my neck stiff. “It’s...”
Brad gets up and comes to me, easing the pillow out and punching it a few times. “So when are you back on your feet? Lift your head.” My chin hits my chest and Brad stuffs the pillow beneath. “Better?”
“Yeah.” I settle. “Tomorrow.” I’ll be up and about by tomorrow.
He laughs. “Doesn’t look like it.”
“Doc said I should be on my feet.” I’ve just got to walk off the stiffness. “Beau’s being difficult.” I expect she’s also got an ulterior motive.
“She’s known exactly where you are for four weeks, pal. That’s a luxury she’s never had. I can’t blame her.”
