Page 9 of Passion Restored

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Owen knew strangling his sisters-in-law would only make matters worse, but that didn’t mean the thought hadn’t floated through his mind. Repeatedly. They might be trying to help, but there was only so much a man could take before he started to lose it. It had been over two weeks since that damn car had hit him, and his family was only now letting him come home. He’d never missed his bed as much as he did right then.

His incision didn’t ache quite as much as it had before, but he still felt like the rest of his internal organs would shift if he moved too fast. Completely insane, he knew, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running wild. He still had his arm in a sling so he wouldn’t jostle his shoulder, but since the hairline fraction on his collarbone had been minimal, he hadn’t needed a cast or something totally binding. In fact, the doctor had said he’d be fine in a couple of weeks as long as he did his physical therapy and didn’t lift drywall—something that had actually been on his list of things to do prior to the accident. His doctor had given him the same advice for his ribs regarding movement with time being the key factor in healing. Since he’d been incapacitated thanks to the surgery, his ribs were well on their way to mending themselves.

It had only taken two weeks of constant hovering by his family, and being poked and prodded until his brain felt like it was going to pound right out of his head to get him to this point.

And if his overly loving family didn’t leave him the hell alone, he might actually start strangling people with his good hand. It might set back his recovery a few weeks, but it would be worth it.

“Let me get that pillow out of the car,” Blake said as she tapped her fingers on her hip, studying him. “I don’t think you have enough pillows. I mean you have some decorative ones on the bed, but not enough good ones to keep you steady here on the couch.”

“I’m surprised the darn things aren’t numbered,” Maya mumbled. He was slightly surprised to hear the word darn and not damn coming from Maya’s mouth, but as she held her son, Noah, in her arms, he couldn’t really blame her. The whole family was trying to keep from cursing so much in front of Noah and Blake’s daughter, Rowan, but so far, they hadn’t really achieved it. Not surprising since before Jake and Graham had married their significant others, they’d all just been a bunch of bachelors who worked on construction sites or in studios like Jake. Cursing was a way of life.

“I don’t number my pillows,” Owen growled. “I like things to be organized and labeled, but I don’t actually use my label maker for throw pillows.”

“So you say,” Maya said with a snort. “I might have just missed the tiny numbers hand-sewn into the fabric.”

Owen barely held himself back from flipping her off. Lovingly, of course.

Rowan, Blake and Graham’s ten-year-old, ran up to them at that moment and held out her arms, a wide smile on her face. “Can I hold Noah? I promise to be careful.”

Maya’s face softened even as Blake turned to help the exchange. Rowan sat down on the floor next to Owen’s overlarge armchair, and Maya handed Noah over. The boy was just big enough to sit up on his own, and he absolutely adored his cousin, Rowan. And though Owen didn’t have kids, as soon as Jake had announced that the triad was having a baby, Owen had made sure his home was safe enough for a toddler to run around. Rowan had come along right before then when Graham had married Blake, and now each of the Gallagher homes had toys and games for the kids to play with.

Somehow, the Gallaghers were becoming domesticated, and Owen was just fine with that. It was about time, after all. If his parents had still been alive, they would have joined in on the fun.

His chest ached, and he knew it wasn’t from the impact of the car, but from old wounds he knew would never heal. Some things just didn’t settle no matter how much time passed, and for that he was grateful. Because without the pain, he was afraid he’d lose the memory of his parents. They’d been everything to him, even though they had spent most of their time with his younger brother since Murphy had been sick more often than not.

And now they weren’t around to watch his other brothers find their happiness, and that ate at Owen day by day. He let out a sigh and winced as a dull pain radiated up his side. Hell, broken ribs hurt more than broken bones and surgical incisions. How that was possible, he didn’t know, but he was damn tired of it.

“What’s wrong?” Murphy asked as he came into the house carrying a walker.

A damned walker. It wasn’t as if anyone had let him use it, however. Since he had one arm in a sling and broken ribs down that side, as well, he’d been forced in a wheelchair when he wasn’t slowly walking on his own two feet. But some orderly had put a walker on the list of things he might need for recovery, so his brothers had gotten it for him. While Owen appreciated lists—hell, loved them like they were his children—he wasn’t a fan of his recovery list.

In fact, that list could go straight to hell along with the driver of the truck that had hit him.

“I’m fine,” Owen bit out, angry all over again about what had happened in the parking lot.

“You winced,” Murphy accused.

“I was just thinking about the damn truck that hit me.” Not quite a lie now, but he wasn’t about to let the rest of them act like mother hens. Thankfully, Border, Jake, and Graham were at work, and the others would soon be heading off in that direction also. They’d built a nursery at the tattoo shop where Maya worked so Noah would be going with her, and Rowan was off school thanks to a parent-teacher day and would be accompanying Blake to the shop, as well. Maya co-owned Montgomery Ink, while Blake was the piercer at the shop, though she did some ink on the side. How his brothers had been lucky enough to get the women, Owen didn’t now. But right now, he just wanted them out of his damn house.

“Are you okay?” Rowan asked from the floor, Noah in her arms.

Owen had forgotten she was down there when he’d spoken, and now he felt like an ass. While they hadn’t hidden what had happened from her since she was too old to keep in the dark, they’d done their best to not scare her.

Good going, Uncle Owen.

“I’m okay,” he said with a small smile he hoped reached his eyes. “I promise. I’ll be good as new in no time.”

Rowan nodded. “Good. But if you need a Band-Aid, let me know. Daddy got me extra pink ones with sparkles because he said you might need some.”

Murphy snorted as Owen did his best to not grit his teeth. While his family was worried about the fact that someone had hit him and driven off, and that there were no leads, they also loved giving him shit. Of course, had it been the other way around, he’d be right with them, doing his best to give everyone shit, as well.

He was a Gallagher, after all.

“Okay, I think you have everything you need,” Blake said after a moment. “I really wish you’d stay with us a bit longer.”

Owen shook his head. He’d been staying at Graham and Blake’s because they had a spare bedroom, and Rowan was old enough to deal with him around. He could have stayed at any of his brothers’ places, but they all knew he needed to stay at Graham’s. His eldest brother needed to make sure all his ducklings were okay, even if Graham would never admit it.

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