“No, I'm sorry. You'll do better to stay where you are.”

It wasn’t her fault, she hadn’t put him in the bed, but he wanted to rail and scream at her. He tried to make light of the situation. “I guess I'm going to have a hard time getting it on for a while, huh?” Panic started to creep into his chest. He’d get out of the bed. It was his arm, nothing that’d keep him there like before.

She patted his other leg. “When you're released, your wife will help, I'm sure.”

Of course, Becky would help. But did he want her to?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He'd fought the negative thoughts the first time around. Depression was easy to slip into when faced with something this life-altering. The bullet wound would heal, but being back in a bed, having to rely on someone else, let those same, dark emotions creep into his mind.

Becky didn't deserve that. He started to sit up again, demand his prosthetic, but the pain forced him back onto his pillow.

“Shit,” he mumbled, wanting to lash out in frustration. She didn’t deserve to have him emotionally breakdown over a few days in a hospital. So, he’d control it for her. Pretend it didn’t bother him.

But how could she play the nursemaid, see him at his weakest, and still want him like she did last night?

“Hudson?” Becky crept alongside his bed. He started to sit up again, but she placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “No. Please don't. The doctor says you'll heal quicker if you don't move for the next couple of days.”

He reached over and pressed the button on the bed, making the head raise up in a slow ascent while he stared at her, daring her to say something.

Her eyes narrowed. “You're a crappy patient, you know that.”

“I've had nurses call me worse.”

“That young girl?”

“No. The Army nurses. Ruthless angels.”

Her face softened again. “Sounds like my kind of crew.” She leaned over to kiss him. He heard the little moan of surprise when he deepened the kiss and pulled her on the bed with his good arm. She laid across his chest, one leg on the ground and the other intertwined with his.

“I'm supposed to be your wife,” she laughed while he kissed the column of her throat. “Married people don't act like this.”

A throat clearing from the door made Becky jerk. She started to push up. Her head snapped down at the spot where his other leg would lay.

He waited to see her reaction. With her eyebrows pulled down tight, she turned to face the doctor. Hudson quickly grabbed her hand to keep her close.

“Some married people do act like that.” He smiled and walked to Hudson's bandaged arm. “How's it feeling? The nurse said you refused the normal pain medication we prescribe.”

“Yes. I went through that once with my leg. I'm not doing it again. I'd rather feel the pain.”

He nodded. “I'm supportive of that. As long as you can manage to rest well.” He focused on Becky. “Are you the caregiver?”

“No,” Hudson said.

“Yes,” she spoke over him. She crossed her arms. “You have someone else in town I don't know about because where I'm standing, I'm all you have.”

His nightmare. For Becky to have to see him like this. To need help dressing. With an injury. With his leg. His jaw tightened. Damn it, she was right. He could bunk in with Cameron's parents. Or Ms. Iris. Basically, anyone in Statem would help if he asked, but he wouldn't get to see Becky. Not like he wanted to.

“Alright.” The doctor touched the screen of the tablet in his hand. “And what is your name?”

“Becky Gallagher.”

“Soon to be Stokes?” The doctor asked.

Becky and Hudson stared at each other. He'd tossed the idea around a few times since Cameron's off-handed comment a couple weeks ago, but put on the spot, he didn't know what to say. Didn't know Becky's thoughts on it. He loved her. He said as much last night.

“Alright,” the doctor said. “We'll say you’re a family friend.”

She squeezed his hand, but the edges of her mouth turned down as she skimmed her gaze over his body again. “Where's his leg?”