Page 37 of War

“No.”I almost choke on the bite of the sandwich in my mouth.My gums dry the bread sticking to them, almost making a paste.“I want to come,” I manage to say.

“You need to rest.You can barely stand,” Callan says flatly.

“Oh, I saw a wheelchair.”Kitty holds up a finger and heads toward the door.

“No way,” I bark out, but she’s already gone.

Callan cracks a can of soda open and places it in my hand, nudging his head for me to drink.

I tip the can to my lips, groaning as the cold liquid fills my mouth and travels down my throat to help push the bread down.“Thank you,” I say, breathless.I hand it back to him, swiping my arm across my lips.“I needed that.”

Tension thickens the air between us, coiling like a rope around our necks.I hate it.A hollowness expands inside me, dark shadows haunting my waking hours.The mystery of Harley’s death continues to eat me from inside.

I need something tangible to cling to, to keep me from losing myself to it.I need Callan’s warmth, love, and sanity.

“Callan…” Every part of me tingles when his eyes turn to mine.He’s so beautiful, I nearly swell to bursting with love every time I look at him.“It sucks not knowing what happened to Harley, but I’m glad your dad isn’t the one who killed her.”

He drops his head, his eyes closing.I hold my breath, scared of what he may say.

I’ve been selfish, only thinking about myself and my agenda.This man’s dad nearly died, and I made it about me getting my answers regardless of the fallout.“I’m sorry.I’ve been so consumed with grief that I haven’t offered you any support.Your dad is alive.I’m thankful you get that.”I push all the warmth I can muster into my words.

His lips part, but nothing comes out.Kitty waltzes back into the room, stealing his attention.She pushes a wheelchair in the room and beams, raising her hands like a magician.“Voilà!”

I swallow past the lump growing in my throat, shaking my head.“Not a chance, Kit.”

“Don’t be a snob,” she grunts.

“Where did you get it?”Callan widens his stance, folding his bulging arms across his chest.

“We’re in a hospital.It wasn’t hard.”She narrows a smile at him, sitting her ass in the chair.

“You stole it from a patient, didn’t you?”Callan sighs, rubbing his temples.

“They don’t need it if they’re asleep,” she defends.

“Oh my god, Kit.”I groan into my hands, covering my face.

“You want to get out of here or what?”

“Yes,” I say, dropping my hands, as Callan says, “No.”

“You haven’t even finished the sandwich,” he protests.

“I’ll finish it.I’m starving.”Kitty leans forward, looking over the assortment of snacks.

“Why the fuck are you so upbeat?We’re in a goddamn hospital,” he snaps at her, and I flinch.

“Fuck you, asshole.Our dad’s awake.Rogue is here with us.Life is good.We need to celebrate the small wins.”

She does seem more upbeat than the circumstances warrant.I wonder if Tim or Cutter have anything to do with that.I make a mental note to ask her when Callan isn’t around to hear us.

“Kit, grab my IV pole.It’s on wheels,” I say, trying to shift the focus.As soon as I make a move to get up, Callan is around the bed and at my side.

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that, right?”he asks, his tone dry.

“It’s part of my charm.”A sliver of a smile cracks his stoic face, offering me a glimmer of hope.Maybe all this chaos won’t ruin us.

Callan scoops me up in a bridal hold, and I let out a little screech, clinging to him.Kitty ducks beneath my IV wire and trails behind us with the stand.Callan places me into the wheelchair.“I just want to put it on the record—I hate this.I think I can walk now,” I pipe up.When Callan doesn’t say anything, I sigh and lean back into the chair.“Fine.”

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