Page 117 of Bride of Choice

Doogie’s face went from snickering laughter to Oh my fucking god what have you done to me, woman, in two seconds flat.

Batting his lashes, not for the full effect, as I’d teased, but to test out the heavy weight of the lash extension dangling precariously from its perch, he plucked it free with a startled noise. With an ew, icky face, he waved his hand, fingers flicking, desperate to rid himself of the false eyelash, treating it like a gross spider.

Holding my sides, I cracked up, careful to hold myself in place as Bum-bum and Berkr worked on my leg.

“Ready?” Berkr grunted out, back to business, butt hurt over my teasing taunts aside.

That was the one thing I could say I liked about the guy— he was there whether he liked someone or not.

“You’re a good guy, Berkr,” I blurted as I met his gaze, grimacing all the while, but nodded. “Thanks, you know, for all your help.”

“Bad Jo not all bad,” he conceded, smiling tightly as he waited for Bum-bum to grip my leg in a strangle hold.

“This is going to fucking hurt, insta-drunk off my ass or not, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure who I was talking to but everyone present more or less grunted or grumbled, “Yes.”

As if to distract me or play the devil’s advocate, I wasn’t sure which, Doogie confided right before the first splash of shine hit, “Jo not drunked on Prokar’s shine yet.”

“Who the fuck is Prokar?” I panted out, already hyperventilating and they hadn’t even started yet.

Doogie might have answered, I wasn’t sure. As my leg was squeezed and the first drop of shine hit, a hiss that grew and grew as more and more shine was poured over the wound and Bum-bum manipulated my leg, I was too busy trying to breathe and not scream my head off to focus on much else.

“Root for fevers almost done,” someone announced when they paused long enough for me to catch my breath.

My hand found its way into Doogie’s, who was grimacing along with me as he allowed me to use his palm like a stress squishy.

“I think I might pass out,” I blurted as I stupidly glanced over at my leg and spied gooey black shit oozing out along with a fair amount of blood.

“Need drink fever tea. Eat,” Doogie gritted out as I relinquished my hold on his hand and he stretched out his fingers.

“Am I going to die?” The question was met with a long, pregnant pause that had me fighting the bile filling my throat. “Tell… tell Rosa I love her, okay? And the little ones?” Swallowing thickly, I blurted, “Booger can have my charger, phone, and tablet. Rek, my purse and furry boots— don’t ask. Gopher, my books. Whatever’s left of my shit, everything else goes to Rosa. Oh, and my sewing kit and key and ring from my old car, my wallet, Kooky can have those. He loves that useless crap, fascinated by it, I have no idea why.”

“Prolly smells like Jo,” Doogie grunted out. With a sniff, he muttered, “Doogie no know why… you stink.”

“Jojo no’ die,” Rek grumbled out fiercely, pushing his way in with Gopher, edging Doogie out of their way, to settle near my head.

The fear in Rek’s eyes and the worry in Gopher’s wasn’t helping things any.

“You kooky. Jo won’t die.” A loud snort cut in on this dark moment. “Will wish Jo did, after Prokar drink wears off,” Kirch grunted out.

“Gets worse before more worse,” Doogie grumbled, as if from personal experience.

“Oh joy. More fun,” I muttered drolly.

Berkr grunted something out at Bum-bum so low Rek cocked his head, frowning, straining to overhear.

Kirch grunted out something, catching the tail end. “Come. We go,” he told Rek, who got up reluctantly to follow.

“Hey, take my baby brother with you! I’m sick of looking at his one lashed face and he says I smell!” I called out, trying to lighten the mood. Lifting Doogie’s hand by his wrist, I waved it at them.

Wrestling his arm back, Doogie, looking exasperated and equally amused by my antics, was about to argue when Bum-bum grunted out, “Gopher, Odix, Berkr stay, rest go.”

“Go where?” Doogie blustered, flustered by the short dismissal.

“Wood. Bind leg,” Kirch said simply.

Standing to follow after them, I chuckled as I listened to Doogie bitch, “Why ALL need to go get wood? Why ALL?”

“Rek stay,” Rek started to offer, but Kirch nixed that with, “Rek trust dummies get good wood for Jojoknee’s leg?”

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