Sighing, he clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“I said, I’m sorry.”
“What the hell do you have to be sorry for?”
“I was wrong.”
“About what?” I question. Getting Milo to talk is always a feat, but when it’s something serious that he doesn’t want to talk about, it’s like pulling teeth.
Holding my stare, he mutters, “You and Reese.”
“You weren’t wrong about me and Reese. You had every right to be pissed at me. You warned me to stay away––”
“Yeah. That’s where I was wrong. I shouldn’t have put you in a position where you felt like you had to sneak around. That’s on me. I should’ve given you more credit. You might be a dick sometimes, but I know you well enough to know you’d never be a dick to her.”
My chest tightens. “I love her.”
“I know.”
“I don’t deserve her, though.”
He laughs. “I was wrong about that too. You’re gonna treat her right.”
His confidence makes me pause as my insecurities rush over me. Will my love be enough to keep her happy? Will she be okay waking up to my sorry ass for the rest of her life? Not that I’ve proposed, but I’m in it for the long haul. If I wasn’t, I would’ve never put my friendship with Milo at risk.
Unable to help myself, I voice my greatest fear. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because if you don’t”––he shrugs––“I’ll have to mess up your pretty face again.”
Coming from Milo, this is the biggest blessing on our relationship that I could’ve asked for. Almost immediately, I feel the weight lifted from my shoulders. I feel like I can finally breathe again.
Tsking, I joke, “I’ve already told ya, Milo. If you want to touch my pretty face, then you gotta get on your knees first.”
With a bark of amusement, he counters, “Nah. I think Jake was right about that one. If anyone’s getting on their knees, it’ll be you.”
Chuckling, I shake my head back and forth. “Good point.”
“But I have one rule with Reese,” he adds.
“And what’s that?”
“You keep your sex life private. I don’t wanna hear it from down the hall or any shit like that. We clear?”
Another laugh escapes me. “Noted.”
“Then I’m happy for you,” he announces.
“Thanks. And thanks for…coming around. I know we screwed up and should’ve told you.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I told you not to pity me,” I remind him.
He sobers and pats my knee. “We’re gonna get you through this.”
“I know.” So much has happened in the past week or so. I feel like I’m starring in a movie stuck in fast forward. But it’s moments like this that remind me what’s really important. And it’s the family you keep. They might not be blood. But they’re more important than anything.
“There’s another good thing that came out of this, though,” I mention.
“What’s that?”
“Now, I can finally get that sleeve we’ve talked about.”
Brow quirked, he scans my bandaged arm. “I thought tats were frowned upon in the movie industry.”
“And so is messed up skin,” I offer with a sardonic grin. “At least now, I won’t be afraid of what other people think.”
“So you’re just gonna be you?”
“There a problem with that?” I challenge.
With a shrug, he jokes, “At least you kept your pretty face.”
Throwing my head back, I laugh even harder before shoving him with my good arm. “Thanks, asshole.”
His grin softens. Then he drops his gaze to my injured arm. “Let me know when you’re ready to start.”
“As soon as I’m all healed up and the doctor gives the okay, I’m good to go.”
“All right. I’ll be ready.” An amused smile flickers across his face before he adds, “Is my sister’s name gonna be on there?”
“Will she kill me if it is?”
“Nah. You make her happy. It’s good to see her that way again.”
“Thanks, Milo.”
“Don’t thank me. Without you, Reese wouldn’t understand what she deserves. You’ve done a good job showing it to her.”
“So have you,” I reply. “She’s lucky to have a brother who looks out for her the way you do.”
With a ghost of a smile, he stands up and pats my good shoulder. “Get some rest.”
Then he leaves.
And I feel at peace for the first time in months.
47
Reese
The next couple of months go by in a blur of chaos, bandage changing, doctor appointments, and healing. They transferred River to a rehabilitation center and have finally taught me how to change his bandages twice a day so we can go home.
Home.
Not gonna lie. It’s been rough.
But SeaBird gave me some time off to help him, and I’ve loved witnessing how damn strong he is.
And stubborn. So stubborn.
As the doctor slides off her rubber gloves, she announces, “You’re looking a lot better, River. Have you been keeping up with your physical therapy homework?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. “Four times a day.”
“You’re only required to do it twice.”
“Yeah, well, apparently, I’m an overachiever.” His shit-eating grin is contagious.
She laughs before turning to me. “Is he always this much of a go-getter?”
“Have you seen his abs?” I reply with a smirk. “The guy doesn’t know the meaning of taking it easy.”
Spending most of his time without a shirt to help the healing process, River has practically become a celebrity in the rehabilitation center, and it’s been fanning his ego just fine.
“Good point,” Dr. Ellis concedes. “As long as you keep up with changing his bandages the way we’ve discussed and make it to the weekly appointments, I think he’s ready to go.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ellis. I really appreciate it,” River tells her.
“Anytime. It’s been a pleasure to work with someone so positive and entertaining. I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, and maybe put a shirt on before you leave,” Dr. Ellis adds. “Wouldn’t want the nurses to leave drool all over the floors as you’re discharged, eh?”
With another bark of laughter, River counters, “Now, where’s the fun in that?”
The drive home is relatively quiet. Glancing over at River sitting in the passenger seat, I ask, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.”
“Does it feel weird to be going home?”
“A little,” he admits. “It’s been a while.”
“It has,” I agree before shifting my gaze back to the road.