Page 7 of Utah

The man in front of me wasn’t known for expressing his feelings. In fact, that issue alone had been the cause of plenty of our arguments since we started hooking up. So, for him to appear as downtrodden as he was spoke volumes about his fallen brother.

Entwining my fingers with his, I moved closer, careful not to bump him. I glanced at the large white bandage covering his belly, and before I could ask the question, he squeezed my hand, pulling my focus back to his face.

“I got stabbed, but the doctor said I’ll be all right. Just have to take it easy for a bit.”

I’d never known anyone who’d been stabbed, let alone killed. This entire situation confused and upset me, but I tamped down the rampant emotions because all that mattered was making sure Utah recovered—physically as well as emotionally.

“How long do you have to stay here?” I asked, working up a scenario in my head that might benefit us both. He needed someone to look after him, and I needed more attention and support the further I got in my pregnancy. New doubts surfaced every day, and I wanted him to be the one to talk me off the proverbial ledge.

“Not sure. Why?”

“Maybe you want to stay at my house while you recuperate?”

“Why?”

“So you’ll have someone to look after you.”

“Someone’s always here. Besides, what happens when you’re at work?”

Apparently, I hadn’t thought this all the way through because sometimes I worked long shifts.

“I can adjust my schedule while you’re healing.” I had no idea if that was possible, but I said it regardless.

“Are you sure this is what you want? Because I can stay here.”

“I’m sure.”

“What changed your mind? The last time I saw you, you all but told me to go fuck myself.”

My teeth toyed with my bottom lip as I recalled the encounter. He’d come into the bar and sat in the corner for hours watching me, looking pissed every time Will and I had a conversation. When I approached him to ask why he was there, he said he was making sure I was safe, but he refused to say from what. And because he’d clammed up yet again, my irritated and hormonal mood went into overdrive. So I walked away, refusing to speak to him for the rest of the evening.

Instead of arguing about the past, I focused on what was important. “You were almost killed. I think that warrants a truce, don’t you?”

A deep line formed between his brows as he stared at me. God only knew what thoughts ran through that mind of his.

“I guess.”

“You’ll come home with me, then?” I asked.

“Tomorrow. I should stay here and rest some more before I attempt to move around.”

“Of course.”

He adjusted his large frame on the bed, wincing with the exertion.

“You think Knox is gonna have a problem with this arrangement?”

I didn’t have time to answer before my brother strolled into the bedroom.

“Is Knox gonna have a problem with what?” he asked.

He moved toward us, his gaze bouncing between me and his friend and back again. I was relieved they were talking again. To be fair, a near-death experience will put things into perspective quickly.

“Your sister asked me to come home with her.”

“Ugh. I don’t need to hear that shit. It’s bad enough I know you did it once, hence the baby.” The corners of Knox’s mouth twitched enough that I believed he wasn’t completely angry.

“Yeah, only once,” Utah said, the roll of his eyes making me smile. My brother groaned in disapproval.

---