"I've had worse."
"Yeah, well, not on my watch." I adjust his pillow, hyper-aware of how close we are, how his fingers brush against mine when I hand him his pain meds.
"You know," he says softly, "for someone who grew up running from all this MC stuff, you've taken to playing nurse for an old biker pretty well."
"You're not that old." I busy myself reorganizing his medications, hoping he doesn't notice my blush. "And maybe I just needed the right reason to stop running."
The air between us feels charged, heavy with everything unsaid. I clear my throat and grab the remote. "So, what's next on your questionable movie list? Please tell me it's not another one with explosions."
"Actually," he grins, "I'm gonna catch a cat nap."
"Sure thing Oldie." I say, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead. "I'm gonna head down to the garage and check on Kyler and Jacoby. Maybe make some breakfast, I'll bring some up after your snooze."
"You're too good to me Indiana Cooper," he say with a grin.
"Lucky you," I say, walking out the door.
I let Tres get his beauty sleep for a few hours. I got strong armed into changing oil in the bikes with Jacoby and Kyler, go figure. But I didn't mind. I've missed them being up here taking care of Tres.
I push open the door to Tres' room, balancing a tray laden with toast, eggs, and coffee. The scent of breakfast wafts through the air, but the room is eerily quiet. The bed is empty, sheets tossed aside, and there's no sign of Tres. My heart skips a beat, and a cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.
"Tres?" I call out, setting the tray down on the dresser. No response. I check the en-suite bathroom, but it's empty too. Panic starts to rise in my chest. "Tres, where the fuck are you?" I shout, my voice echoing through the room.
"Indiana."
The deep rumble of his voice draws my attention to the window. My breath catches as I spot Tres lounging in the leather armchair, early morning light streaming across his bare chest. His grey sweats hang low on his hips, and the sunlight catches every ridge of muscle, every intricate line of his tattoos. The bruises from the fight have faded to yellowish shadows.
"Jesus Tres, you scared me," I say, pressing a hand to my chest. "Should you be up?"
"Come here." He beckons with one hand, and I cross the room. "I'm feeling better. Much better."
My fingers itch to trace the ink decorating his shoulders. "You should still be resting."
"What I should be doing is thanking you," he says, reaching for my hand. His palm is warm against mine. "For everything you've done. Not just for me, but for my boys too."
I shake my head, remembering how they stormed that warehouse, how they risked everything to save me. "Don't even mention it. You guys saved my life." My throat tightens as I think of my father, how proud he'd be of these men. "And you took care of my daddy, gave him a family when I couldn't be here."
"Indy-"
"No, really." I squeeze his hand. "The way you've honored him, protected his legacy, protected me... that means everything."
Tres pulls me closer, his thumb tracing circles on my wrist. His brown eyes darken as they meet mine, and my breath hitches at the intensity of his gaze.
"Indiana, I've been fighting this since the moment you pulled up in that Chevelle," he says, voice rough. "I tried to tell myself you were off-limits. That you were Brick's little girl. That you had already been through enough, losing your mom and your dad, you didn't need some hot head complicating your life."
Heat floods my cheeks. "I'm not so little anymore."
"No. We established this." His grip tightens. "You're definitely not. And that's the problem. You're all I think about, Indy. The way you care for everyone, your strength, your fire." He releases a shaky breath. "I'm too old, too rough around the edges for someone like you. But I can't fight it anymore."
My heart pounds against my ribs. "Then don't."
His eyes grow dark. "Do you understand what you're saying Indiana?"
"I do." I take a deep breath. "I love you Tres." and that isn't a lie. Just because I might also love Kyler and Jacoby, doesn't mean I don't love this man in front of me.
His intake of breath brings me back to reality. "You love me?"
I quickly nod, unable to answer. I'm not sure how to read his reaction to what I just told him.