Page 22 of Claiming Becca

I don’t know how to respond. It’s the same thing Julian has been telling me all along. My eyes feel heavy, but I ignore it.

“Okay. I’ll grab Bec. I’ll come to visit you later,” he tells me, and I nod as he leaves. As I wait, the nurse fusses over me, checking my vitals, but I ignore her, letting her do her thing. Something Julian said makes me feel like I’m forgetting something. We all know who the evil one was. Donovan Castiel.

“Big man?” Becca’s soft voice calls out to me. I snap from my thoughts, focusing on her. I drink her in. She’s wearing black leggings, a crop top, and white tennis shoes. Her pink hair is pulled up into a high ponytail.

“Hey, Shortcake,” I greet her.

The nurse leaves, but I barely notice as Becca walks toward me. She swallows as her eyes fill with tears. I pat the bed, and she climbs up, sitting beside me. I grab her hand, pulling her into an awkward hug. She’s trying not to put any weight on me, being cautious of my injuries. I hate it. I want to squeeze her tight. Instead, I kiss her forehead.

“How are you doing?” I ask her.

She lets out a watery laugh. “I should be asking you that.” She pulls back but doesn’t let go of my hand. She rarely touches me unless I touch her first. This is nice. She looks up from my hand, allowing me to see the bags under her eyes. Her eyes are searching mine.

I tip one side of my mouth at her. “Oh, you know me. I needed a vacation. I didn’t expect to feel like I got run over, though.” She gives me a small smile.

Tears begin to fall down her cheeks. I cup her cheek and wipe them away with my thumb. “What’s got you so upset, Shortcake?” I whisper.

She inhales shakily, her eyes never leaving mine. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear one of your stupid dad jokes again,” she replies.

I smirk. “Well, I have one for you.”

She perks up. “Oh yeah? I’m all ears.” She smiles through her tears.

I want to sit up and pull her close. “What do you call a cow in an earthquake?” I ask her, and her eyes widen. I wait for a beat before answering. “A milkshake.” I chuckle, but my hand grips my abdomen. This sucks. Becca doesn’t react; she just stares at me. I usually get a reaction from her with my dad jokes, even if they’re for my benefit.

“Where did you hear that joke?” she asks.

I tilt my head at her, trying to think. “I don’t know, actually. It just came to me.” I look at her expectantly. Her mouth opens slightly as she continues to stare at me. “I don’t guess it was very funny.” She runs her hands through her hair, looking worried.

She looks away, swallowing. “I told you that joke,” she whispers.

I squint at her. “What? When?” I don’t remember her telling me that joke.

“Right before you had your last surgery. About four days ago. I think. I’m having a hard time keeping up with all the days.” She tightens her hand around mine, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks. “I came to visit you and told you a few dad jokes. That was one of them.”

I smile widely at her and bring her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles gently. Her lips tip up slightly at my expression. This girl. She has no idea how special she is.

“I guess I hear you even when I’m under anesthesia. I’ll always listen to everything you have to say.” Another worried look flits over her face, but it disappears quickly as she finally grins. I hate how upset this whole incident made her. I want her to know how special she is. It looks like I have a new mission.

CHAPTER TWELVE

CONNOR

DAD HOLDSthe door open for me as I walk into my house slowly. Mom and Becca follow behind me closely. I look around at my empty walls and glance at Becca. I’ve wanted to ask her to help decorate this place. Maybe I can use my recovery to talk her into it. I smirk, and Becca catches my eye.

She narrows her eyes at me. “What are you planning?” she asks. My mouth pops open at how she realized that. She smiles and shakes her head at me. “I know you well,” she says, reading my mind.

“I might be planning something,” I murmur. She tilts her head at me, trying to figure it out. Walking into the living room, I eye my recliner.

“Honey, are you hungry? Do you need anything?” Mom asks for the 30th time since we left the hospital.

“Mom, will you please stop fussing over me?” I plead.

She gives me the mom look she has perfected over the years. “Honey, you were just released from the hospital. You were shot, had three surgeries, and were in a coma for almost two weeks,” she says, like I don’t know that.

“Yeah, I know I was there.” I’m trying not to be the grumpy asshole I know I can be, but I’m finally in my own space. All I want to do is sit down and watch a movie with Becca. I eye her again. Hopefully, she’ll stay around after Mom and Dad leave.

“I just think that I should stay here for a couple of weeks until you get on your feet.”

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