I sniffled, my nose stinging as the images of him needing it assaulted me. “We’re getting you ten. One for your house, my house, your truck, my SUV, your office, my office, your briefcase, my purse, and two for the fanny pack I’m forcing you to wear twenty-four-seven.”
“A fanny pack, huh?”
“Yep.”
His lips twitched. “You do realize twenty-four-seven would include when I’m naked and fucking you. You gonna be able to get off with me wearing a fanny pack?”
I choked back another round of tears. “As long as I never have to see you like I did tonight, then I’m sure I’ll manage.”
All humor evaporated from his face and his body sagged into the bed. “Fuck, Remi. I am so sorry.”
I dried my cheeks, hating that he was the one who had gone into anaphylactic shock yet there he was, comforting me. “It’s not your fault.”
“It’s not yours, either, but I am deeply sorry you had to go through that tonight. I know how scary it can be to have to make a nine-one-one call for someone you love and I never in a million years wanted that for you. But it’s done now and I’m okay. I can’t promise it won’t ever happen again, but I can tell you next time I’ll make sure I’m better prepared so the weight of the emergency doesn’t fall on your shoulders.” He dipped low and kissed my forehead. “Even if it means showering in a fanny pack.”
I hoped like hell a next time would never happen, but I was so damn grateful we had a chance at a next time at all.
There was a knock at the door, and then Tyson came strolling in, his phone held to his ear. I didn’t know the rest of the Michaels family, so while the EMTs had worked on Bowen, I’d used his phone to call his brother.
I’d been hysterical, but Tyson had assured me from miles away that Bowen was in the best hands possible. He’d met me at the hospital and wrapped me in a warm hug that was too much like his brother’s for it not to have been genetic.
“He’s right here, Mom,” Tyson said into the phone.
Bowen shot him a glare and hissed, “I told you not to call her.”
Tyson smirked. “Yeah, but I’m way more scared of her than I am of you.” He extended the phone in Bowen’s direction.
He let out a grumble and snatched it from his brother. “Hey, Mom.”
I could hear a woman’s panicked voice over the line but couldn’t make out her words. I started to move off the bed to give him privacy to talk, but Bowen’s arm tightened around me, keeping me right where I was. That was better for me anyway. I wasn’t ready to leave his side yet—and probably wouldn’t be for some time.
“I’m fine,” he said to her. “No, we don’t know where it came from. Probably cross-contamination.” He sighed. “Yeah, I was having dinner with my girl.”
I screwed my eyes shut. This was not the introduction to Bowen’s mom that I wanted. I couldn’t imagine sending her son to the hospital was going to win me any brownie points.
“She was the one who called nine-one-one, actually. Real hero.”
I opened my eyes to scowl at him. His response was a knowing chuckle and a wink. Turnabout was fair play, I supposed. With the lecture I’d given him about fate and heroism after the fiasco at Katherine’s mixer, I had no room to argue.
He continued to smile at me. “Yeah, she is pretty amazing. I’ll bring her over later this week so you can thank her yourself. But hey, I’m gonna hand you back to Ty now. After all this Benadryl, it’s a miracle I can think at all.” He paused for her to reply. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll keep you in the loop. Love you too.” He handed the cell phone back to his brother.
Tyson put it to his ear. “So there you have it. The golden child is alive and well. No need to storm the gates.”
Bowen shook his head as Tyson strolled back out of the room.
I smiled at the entire interaction, loving the idea that Bowen had a mom who adored him—rightly so. “So you’re the golden child, huh?”
He scoffed and dropped his head back against the pillow. “Hardly. With as much as I’ve made her worry the last year or so, I’m lucky to be the bronze child.” His dark lashes fluttered shut, exhaustion taking over. “You good going with me to meet my parents? I don’t know how much longer I can keep you to myself.”
Excitement built in my chest. I loved Bowen and we were talking about a future together, but there was still something special about a man being ready to introduce you to his parents. “Aww, are you trying to keep me to yourself?” I teased.
“No, but sometimes it feels like that’s the only way I can keep you at all.”
I twisted my lips. “What do you mean?”
He shook his head and hugged me tighter. “It doesn’t matter. Take a nap with me?”
I wasn’t tired, but I could’ve stayed with him like that forever, so I hummed my approval. Within seconds, his body sagged and his breathing evened out. My lids never closed though, nor did my mind slow as I lay there, secure in his arms, assaulted by the constant replay of him slumped over in the truck.
Remi
“What the fuck,” Bowen rumbled as we walked through his front door at almost three in the morning, a hospital bracelet still secured around his wrist.
I peeked around his large frame and saw that winter had come early—or at least the innards of a pillow (or six) were covering his house like a cottony blanket of snow.
Sugar came racing over. He bounced off Bowen’s legs and then came straight to me, dancing at my feet, completely oblivious to the trouble he was about to be in.
Scooping him up into my arms, I whispered, “What did you do?” He licked me on the chin. Let’s be real, trouble aside, the tiny black poodle was too cute for his own good.
“How the hell did they get out?” Bowen asked. With long strides, he marched to the guest room where he kept the dogs when he wasn’t home. Sugar and I followed behind him, our feet forging a path through the stuffing.
Bowen reached the room first. The door was wide open and Clyde was inside, curled up on his dog bed. He looked innocent enough. Well, until the old pooch lifted his head.
A ball of fluff hung from his droopy jowls.
“Busted,” I laughed.
Bowen raked a hand through the top of his hair. “Shit. I must not have shut the door all the way.”
I hugged Sugar tight. “You were gone a lot longer than expected too.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Let’s get these guys outside and fed. I’ll sort out the damage in the morning. I’m exhausted.”
“You go ahead and get into bed. I can handle the dogs.”
His tired-but-no-less-handsome face perked. “You sure?”
“Of course. I’ll even lecture them about destruction of property and everything.”
He grinned. “The dog food is—”
“In the bin in the pantry. Sugar gets one little scoop. Clyde gets two big ones. They both get the joint supplement in the cabinet beside the fridge. One squirt for Sugs. Three for the big man. Then, because you feel awful about leaving them for so long even though they trashed your house, I’ll give them each a little piece of cheese on top.”