“What do you mean, what's the plan? We break you out of here, take you home, and nurse you back to health.” His hands are in his pockets, and he rocks back on his heels.
“Bullshit. I know that stance. I’ve known you for how many years now? What do you have cooking up?”
“We’re in the process of getting you a certain nurse to help you.” He winks.
“Yoo-hoo,” someone says, walking through the door. I swear to Christ this place is like Grand Central Station, where anybody can come and go as they please.
“I’m here to take out your IV.” A woman who looks to be as old as my own mother comes in. Not the angel I had before.
“Where’s Giana?” I grumble, not wanting this nurse in here. Which is stupid. It’s not like she can’t do her job.
“She’s on her break. Giana will back in a bit and is pulling a double tonight, so she’ll be your night nurse.” She goes about her business removing the line for the pain medicine, allowing me to move my free arm better.
“Thanks,” I tell her, trying not to be so harsh with my tone this time around.
“No problem. Visiting hours end in an hour,” the nurse tells Braxton and Bridger.
“We’ll be leaving in the next little bit,” Braxton states. I know why he’s leaving. He’ll be heading back to work. That’s going to put him in an early grave. Not like I can say much—I did the same thing when Slade started Nighthawk Security.
“Who’s the nurse who’s helping me out?” I ask Bridger, making sure his eyes don’t leave mine, meaning business.
“It’s still a work in progress, but I think you’ll be happy if it all works out.”
“That’s not ominous or anything.” I roll my eyes.
“Don’t worry. If she doesn’t work out, you’ll be pleased as punch to have me by your side, forever and ever.” He does this stupid dance and smiles. It causes me to laugh, which jars my shoulder, making me stop.
“You're a pain in the ass.”
“Yeah, but you love me. Alright, I’m outta here before Kellie eats dinner without me.” Kellie really has calmed his ass down. Sure, he’s still a clown day to day, but you can see the calmness in him now.
“Enjoy. I’ll be here eating shit on a brick.” My demeanor isn’t getting much better, and I know I’m poor company.
“It’s only for tonight. You’ll be back to eating your bland chicken breast, vegetables, and brown rice before too long,” Braxton replies for him.
“As if you don’t eat that?” I quirk my eyebrow.
“True enough. Get some rest, big brother. I’ll see you when you’re home.” He clasps my uninjured shoulder, and both of them leave me staring at a vacant room. Not that I blame them, but damn, what I wouldn’t give to have someone in my life to love and cherish.
Four
Giana
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Well, really, I can. When you’re twenty-five and up to your ears in debt, you do some crazy shit. Including work off the clock with your hospital’s administrator being okay with it for double the pay. Drake is going to need someone every day for the next six weeks, at least. I did the math. The total would knock out a huge chunk of my student loans. So, I leaped, and now I’m here knocking on Drake’s front door to a mammoth of a home, a door so big it’s double the height of myself, and this is after giving my name at the gate.
“Why would someone need a home this big with an eight-foot-high wrought iron fence, not to mention all of the foliage to hide everything? This guy must have issues,” I ramble to myself.
“The door is open, and yes, I probably do have some kind of issues.” Drake’s voice comes through what must be some kind of intercom.
“Shit.” I twist the doorknob. I’m already screwing this up left and right.
“Heard that too.” I just roll my eyes and step inside the foyer. It’s as grand as the outside stonework is. My eyes don’t know where to look first. There’s a staircase that’s wrapped in a striking dark walnut wood that matches the white walls beautifully, the floors being the same exact color as the treads of the stairs as well as the railings.
“I’m in the living room,” Drake says. I roll my eyes. Sure, his shoulder is hurt, but is it too much to stand up and open the door? I bet he’s going to be the biggest pain in the ass when it comes to every single thing.
“Coming,” I grouse. I walk past what looks like a library—every nook and cranny is full of books. What I wouldn’t give to further investigate it. Maybe I can do that when Drake isn’t in a mood. Past the stairs is where I find the patient. That’s how I’m going to refer to him if his attitude doesn’t change. Either that or I’ll end up putting him back in the hospital.
When I make it to the living room, it’s the most inviting room I’ve ever seen, and I’ve lived at my parents’ house for more years than I care to admit, even now at my age. I still live at home. It might seem like I should have moved out by now, but with school and being in debt, it’s smart to stay there and pay them rent to get out of debt before accruing even more bills.
The sectional is much like the rest of Drake’s house, huge. It’s a leather sectional with deep seating and pillows, and blankets are scattered everywhere. The rug looks luxurious to scrunch your toes in on a cold winter day, and the television is placed over the fireplace, tying it all in together.
If Drake weren’t acting like such an ass, it would make me want to climb in beside him and cuddle into his firm body. Too bad that when he opens his mouth, it’s usually with nothing I want to hear.
“Hey.” His voice has taken on a different tone, causing me to falter in my steps.
“Hey,” my voice croaks. I’m not wearing my normal scrubs like I do for work. Instead I’m in a slouchy-type long-sleeved shirt, ripped jeans, and flats. Getting cold is in my nature. Even in the dead of summer, my hands and feet are usually always like an iceberg.
“I didn’t mean to be a jerk. I’m assuming my friends put you up to this gig?”
“It’s okay. You’re more than likely in pain, and maybe your bedside manners could use some work?” I break the ice. If we’re going to be around each other the entire time, working together, we should at least get along.
He laughs. It’s rich, throaty, and is making my knees freaking weak. “Isn’t it usually the other way around?” His eyebrow arches up.
“Maybe, maybe not.” I shrug my shoulder.
“Anyways, can we call a truce? I wasn’t expecting you, and when you pulled up, it caught me off guard. Those knuckleheads took over everything, including getting me home like I was an invalid. Who knew four grown males could be so overbearing? They’re worse than my own mother.” He holds his pinky out. I tilt my head to the side before saying, “Isn’t that for promises?”
“Yeah, but I’m going to pinky promise you not to be an asshole.” When he says it like that, I place my pinky beside his, and he wraps his own around mine. It might have only been the meeting of our fingers, but it was enough for me to feel the roughness of his skin compared to mine.