Page 56 of Filthy Liar

I never want to see them again.

The water rushes from the showerhead, and the bathroom fills with steam. I’m glad for it. I don’t want to see myself in any kind of reflection anywhere. In fact, I think I’ll be fine with never seeing my reflection again.

I step into the shower and let out a heavy sigh as soon as the hot water stings my skin. I welcome the sensation. My skin burns as the water pelts my flesh. I know I’m going to be red and throbbing when I’m finished, but I don’t care.

I shower the feelings, the aches, and the fear away.

Hopefully, I’ll emerge as someone changed, different maybe. Stronger hopefully. The entire time I shower, I think. I devise aplan as I shampoo my hair. I make a mental list of how to make that plan happen while my conditioner sets and soaks into my hair.

By the time I’m finished, I know what I need to do. My heart and body be damned. I don’t know what is reality and what isn’t anyway. So I need to go along with my original plan—sell this house and bounce.

Leaving everything and everyone behind me.

Living a life of peaceful solitude until the day I die.

CLINK

I’m notsure how long I sleep. It could be an hour, it could be a day, but when I wake up, I don’t feel like I’m on death's door any longer. Blinking, I’m not sure what’s woken me. As I stare at the ceiling, I try to come up with the will to stand from the bed, but I can’t. Then I hear a knock.

Pushing up onto my elbows, I realize that must be what woke me. “Come on in,” I call out.

I don’t know what I expect, but it isn’t Spencer. I suck in a breath as she marches toward me. She is pissed. Before she says a single word, she stops beside my bed, her eyes narrowed and glaring at me, one hand on her cocked hip.

“What the fuck?” she snaps.

Arching a brow, I watch her and don’t say anything. I’m not sure what the fuck Icansay.

“What the fuck?” she demands again.

“What?” I ask.

She shakes her head and presses her lips together. Then I watch as a single tear slides down her cheek. “I could have lost you,” she whimpers.

Fuck.

“Spencer,” I murmur.

“If you hadn’t almost died, I would kill you,” she hisses.

I groan in an effort to hide my laugh. She sinks down on the side of the bed, reaching out. I feel her hand take mine. “Please, don’t ever do this to me again. I seriously cannot take it.”

Squeezing her hand in mine, I clear my throat. “I’m sorry.” I have no idea what the fuck to say to her. There’s nothing I can do about what happened, and I can’t promise that it won’t happen again.

“I love you, Humble. I can’t do this life without you. Don’t make me.”

I open my mouth to respond, although I have no idea what I’m going to say. But before a single word comes out, there is another knock on my door. I have no damn clue who is on the other side, but I definitely don't expect the doctor. My lips twitch into a smirk.

“Good to see you, Doc,” I murmur as he moves into my room. Spencer lets out a heavy sigh, then releases my hand and without a word, she slips out of the room. I feel guilty that I’ve upset her so much, but this is my life. It’s her man’s life, too. And the risk is part of the job.

He’s all business.

Not a member of the Dark Horse, not even a member of an MC, but he’s a relative of String's and reluctantly comes down here when we’re healing from some kind of trouble, like now.

With a grunt, he jerks his chin toward my shirt. “Let’s see it. I’m assuming you aren’t going to have your sutures checked, so I’m going to make sure you boys aren’t infected. Really, you should have someone on call for this. I feel like I’m here more than I’m at my own practice.”

My lips twitch into a smile. “You’re probably not wrong,” I mutter. “Any idea who we could get that we could actuallytrust?” I ask as he tugs the chair from the corner to the side of my bed.

I watch as he sinks down into the chair’s cushion. Then he leans over and tugs the dressing off my waist. I hiss, clenching my jaw tightly and gnashing my teeth together as he pokes around at my wound.

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