Page 23 of Rock On

“I’ll be home soon. Promise.”

She shook her head. “Liar. You’re going to sit here all night, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be home in time to get River up.”

“You need to rest, Harley.” She shook her head but finally left me to my thoughts. “I’ll get up with him.”

“You’re the best sister ever,” I said softly. “I know intellectually that being here is stupid, but emotionally, it’s like I’m rooted to the damn chair. I can’t make myself get up. I have to be here even though he doesn’t know and doesn’t care.”

“Oh, I think he cares.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. A gut feeling, I guess.”

Touche.

Gut feelings were the worst, I decided as I watched her walk away.

Mine was keeping me here in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair as I debated whether or not to go see how Tommy was for myself. I had no right to be here and yet, as the minutes ticked by, I knew the only thing that would allow me to go home would be to see him. If I got it over with, I’d be able to go get some sleep so I could focus on my son in the morning.

Stiff from sitting so long, I got to my feet and arched my back, trying to loosen up.

Just a quick glance, I told myself.

I’d be okay once I saw him.

Yeah, right.

The angel on my shoulder was rolling her eyes while the devil on the other side was rubbing her hands together gleefully.

There was a very good chance I was losing my mind, but I headed for Tommy’s room anyway. The door had been left open, probably by Wynter, and I glanced around to see who might be available to toss me out.

The corridor seemed clear, and I quickly but quietly stepped into the doorway.

There he was.

Lying on that hospital bed made him look bigger than usual, his lanky frame bulked up by bandages, pillows, and blankets. He was normally a light sleeper, but the IV in his arm told me he was probably on pain killers.

His dirty blond hair was tousled, sticking up a little on top, and yesterday’s five o’clock shadow had quickly moved into the category of a short beard. The hair on his face grew quickly, and I was reminded of the million times I’d shaved him. It had been a sensual, intimate thing for us, often leading to lovemaking if we weren’t on a schedule. And I loved doing it. He’d sit on the stool I usually used when putting on my makeup or doing my hair, and he’d palm my ass or stroke my midsection while I shaved his face. Staring down into his mesmerizing blue eyes, it was often hard to concentrate, hard to do anything but lose myself in him.

Back when my husband had been my world.

God, I missed those days.

“Don’t just stand there,” he said, making me jump. “You might as well come in.”

“I…” My voice trailed guiltily. I hadn’t meant to disturb him. “I just wanted to…make sure you were okay.”

“Wynter could have told you that.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Then come in and take a good look.” His eyes were still closed, and his voice was slightly groggy.

“Do you need anything?” I asked politely.

He snorted. “You feel like sucking my dick?”

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