Page 36 of Savage Heart

She glared up at the man staring down at her, his features impassive, like he was wearing a mask, but the mask was slipping.

She leaned up just enough to place her lips around the straw and draw a mouthful of water into the parched desert around her tongue. She groaned, closing her eyes at the sensation of cool water refreshing her dry mouth. It was so sweet. Taking one last draw, she opened her eyes and looked right into the face of a ravaged man.

Emerald had turned to aged moss as desire heated the darkening orbs. Her body, though beaten to shit, didn’t care. It only wanted to answer the call to mate that his eyes were blaring, eyes that were glued to her mouth where it was sucking on the straw. Pushing the straw from her mouth, she sat back, wishing her body wasn’t such a slut. She was in pain, broken, and she had a bad history with the sexy biker, she certainly didn’t want her lady parts getting excited about him and what his eyespromised, because she knew that though his eyes said one thing, his intentions were not the same.

As if hearing her thoughts, Trouble blinked, and the heat banked instantly. And what was left….

Despite looking as hard and unruffled as ever, there were dark smudges under his eyes, blond scruff on his usually clean-shaven cheeks, the usually well-groomed beard along his lower jaw and over his chin was looking a little unkempt—like he’d been pulling at it, and a weariness in his frame that told her he was wiped.

A tightness she recognized squeezed her chest, making her breath catch. She was gazing upon the man she’d love more than life, the man who’d crushed her heart without a second thought, the man who’d also, more than likely, saved her life—so it was okay to feel sorry for him, right? It was alright to let those old feelings of concern and worry, and the need to comfort and care for him to rise, just a little. Right? Because that was the only way her heart was allowed to feel anything remotely like interest in his well-being. Hell, maybe it was the doctor in her, worried—professionally—about whether he’d gotten enough sleep or if he’d eaten anything, or even if he’d left her hospital room to get some fresh air.

She stared at him, unblinking, but on the inside, she was rifling through her feelings, trying to find the ones that made the most sense, because there was no way she still loved the man standing beside her bed, his expression just as conflicted and filled with concern as hers probably was.

Shit.

“How’re you feelin’?” he asked, his voice cracking. He coughed into his fist, swallowed, then asked, “You need anythin’? Iced tea, cherry Kool-Aid?” He smirked, his green eyes warming.

She couldn’t help the snicker that escaped.

“What about cherry Kool-Aidinmy iced tea?” she teased, her heart jerking at an old, dear memory. She’d been studying for her entrance exams, and she’d been thirsty as hell, and when Trouble had asked her what she wanted, she distractedly listed off two beverages and several snack options. Trouble grunted, headed into the kitchen, then returned minutes later with a bowl filled with pretzels, popcorn, gummy bears, and crumbled up Oreos—all together. And in his other hand was a glass of what looked like red tea. The man had taken her requests literally, mixing sweet tea and the last of her pitcher of cherry flavored Kool-Aid for her thirst quenching.

She’d laughed, taken the snacks and drinks from him, then blown two hours of study time blowing him, then studying one another.

“You’re rememberin’, ain’t ya?” his deep, heavy drawl pulled her back to the present, the memory one of the many she’d pushed away to help build the walls necessary to heal from the heartbreak. At one time, she’d truly believed that Trouble was the man she’d spend the rest of her life with, that he was a man who truly cared about her…had truly loved her.

But he didn’t.

Sucking in a breath, the smile on her face long gone, she tore her gaze from his and said, “Not anymore.” Waving off the cup of water he still held in his hand, she laid her head back and fought the urge to close her eyes, to close him out. “I don’t need anything except to get out of here. The doctor come by while I was sleeping?”

She knew what was coming, that he had questions. And she’d rather get it over with now so that once she was discharged from the hospital, she could get the fuck on with her life, once and for all. Of course, now she’d have to deal with the complications of a baby daddy…and whatever the hell Lyle had gotten their clinic mixed up in.

“Doctor came by about an hour ago, said you’d probably need another day or two before he could discharge you, something about monitoring the way the bone and metal rod look in your arm.”

She sighed, nodding. It was probably Dr. Faison. He’d want to make sure there weren’t any issues with the metal rod fusing properly with the bone, so they’d heal without infection. Infection and broken bones were a recipe for quick and painful death.

“That doctor….he, uh, he one doctor you worked with in medical school?” Trouble asked, a strange look in his eyes. Interest. Like he needed to know so he could put a puzzle together.

She furrowed her brow, but answered, “Yes. I told you that.” Obviously, he hadn’t been listening when she’d mentioned it before. “He was my supervisor and mentor for my rounds in orthopedics. Why?”

“Here, at Summerlin?” he asked, this time his voice held a note of a plea, like he was hoping her answer was something other than what he already knew it would be. But…why? What the hell was he really asking?

“Yes,here. Typically, medical students from UNLV do their practical rotations and even their residencies here or at University Medical. I could rotate between the two hospitals because of my desired specialty in osteopathic medicine.” She tipped her head to get a better look at his face, a face that had suddenly gone white. “Trouble? What’s going on? What’s with the questions? Are you…are you feeling okay?” Hell, the man looked like he was going to hit the floor. “Sit down before you fall down, asshole,” she barked. His hands shaking, he stumbled backward until he collapsed into the upholstered chair he’d been sitting in when she woke up. Then, he did something she’d never seen him do before: he crumbled. He dropped his head into hishands, his shoulders slumped, and his back bowed as if under a tremendous weight. Before her was a broken man.

“Trouble…” she rasped, and his body jerked as if her voice hit him like a bullet. She swallowed back the burn of tears in her throat. To see him like this…. Her heart ached for him, and she had no idea what had happened, what had finally broken such a strong, proud, arrogant badass.

“You never left…” Trouble muttered, his voice barely carrying across the room to where she was laying

“What?” she asked, furrowing her brow in confusion. “Left where?”

He sighed, then shook his head. “Vegas.” He lifted his head and stared dead at her, his green eyes intense as hell. “You never left Las Vegas.”

She pinched her lips together, all the more confused by his words.

“Of course, I didn’t leave Las Vegas,” she snapped. “Why the hell would I do that? I had a full ride to UNLV; I’d be an idiot to turn down free medical school.”

He chuckled humorlessly, the sound raising goosebumps on her arms and neck.

“Of course, she says…” he murmured, shaking his head.

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