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Taking a deep breath, she worked on calming herself.
So much for taking care of Spike like he did for her.
“Everything is all right now,” she said. “You’re safe. And I’m going to take care of you.”
“Need to take care of you,” he countered stubbornly.
“No, Daddy,” she said firmly. “You’re the one who needs taking care of now.”
His gaze narrowed. “I don’t think so.”
Yeah. She should have known he wouldn’t take that well. He was the protector. The nurturer. The one who took care of things.
But he was just going to have to accept that she wanted to do the same for him.
“Fuck,” Spike grunted. “Your party.”
“It doesn’t matter, Daddy.”
“It does matter. You worked so hard.”
“So I’ll have it another weekend. Everyone will understand. All that matters is you.”
“Sorry, baby,” he said tiredly. “Ruined it.”
“You didn’t ruin anything,” she muttered as he grimaced and shifted position. “All I care about is that you’re okay.”
“That’s all anyone cares about,” Damon said firmly. “That you’re going to be all right. But you need to listen to the doctors and rest and don’t get stressed.”
“Millie. Needs looking after.”
“I’ll do that,” Damon said.
Um, she could do that herself.
Pfft. But she didn’t argue as she saw Spike drifting off. He needed to get some sleep. That would help him heal.
Thank God he was all right. Because she didn’t want to think about her life without him in it.
9
Spike woke up, wincing as knives stabbed at his head.
Fuck, that hurt.
He breathed through the pain, and tried to raise his hand to rub at his temples. Only his hand was stuck. Glancing down, surprise filled him as he saw Millie sleeping on the chair next to his bed.
He frowned.
Where the fuck was he? What was going on and why was Millie sleeping in a fucking chair and not a bed?
Anger filled him as he glanced around, taking in the room.
Fuck. It suddenly came back to him. He’d been in an accident.
Some asshole had run a red light and smashed into his truck.
It could have been worse. So much worse.
