Page 28 of Remade

Was he wearing my Ranger hoodie? I couldn’t see his front, including his face, and that was a good thing.

What were the odds Leighton’s injuries were a figment of my imagination? Between the doctor’s exams, surgery, confirming that all enemies had been eliminated, and being hopped up on the good juice yesterday, I only remembered flickers of images. His face—all the cuts and scrapes. Bruises appearing.

Deep breaths.

I winced, hoping it was time for more painkillers soon. My leg was fucking killing me.

Despite the pain, I’d gotten my hopes up that shit looked worse than it was when the doctor had told me I’d gotten “lucky.” The shot had gone straight through my arm without leaving too much destruction behind. And the leg—a glorified flesh wound. I’d lost too much blood, but it hadn’t been very deep and no fragments left behind this time. I had enough as it was.

Best part of it all, I’d only had to suffer for five or six hours in an actual hospital before I’d been released into Doc’s care in our own medic bay.

I fucking hated hospitals. I’d spent weeks there before my old man’s liver had given up. Plus, every damn time my sister squeezed out a kid.

Field hospitals were more my jam. Let’s stitch you up, get you the happy pills, slap you on the ass, and send you off.

Maybe not exactly like that, but…

I did remember happy pills in Iraq.

I yawned and did my best not to move. I didn’t wanna wake up Leighton, knowing he’d barely slept any, and I didn’t wanna upset my dumbass injuries.

It’d be nice if Coach could stop by, though. I wanted an update.

Maybe he was in the other room.

Yesterday, I’d checked the fuck out the second Hyatt had confirmed we’d gotten everybody and that none of our men had sustained too many injuries. Coach had been shot in his arm like me, Hudson had been grazed a couple times, Wilson had taken a knife to his rib cage, and Green had been burned along her leg.

We’d recover.

I peered down at Leighton’s hand that rested on my chest, and I knew I was gonna have to accept all this. Him being near danger. The top of his hand was bruised and scraped, and he still had dried blood and dirt under his fingernails.

The door opened a while later, and Doc smiled when he saw I was awake.

“Let’s see if you’re an easier patient than my brother,” he said.

I snorted under my breath. I may let my bitchier tendencies roam free when I was out for the count, but nobody was as bad as Coach.

Doc came over and eyed Leighton a little. “He’s barely left your side.”

I took a breath and stared up at the ceiling.

Man, was I fucked when it came to him.

I’d been focused on solving this case for so fucking long, and finally making sure those dickless motherfuckers couldn’t breathe any longer, and then… Hell, my entire purpose had changed in the middle of combat. They’d all been faceless strangers to me anyway. I’d had no specific body to identify or…

A breath gusted out of me.

I was done with everything that’d dragged me down the past year. It was over.

It wasover.

Leighton felt like a breath of fresh air, and he made me wanna see how I could fuck up another relationship. Except,everything about him was different. Starting with the level of my attachment.

“Can you give me happy pills?” I muttered, my voice rough from disuse.

He checked his watch. “I’d like to give it another couple of hours.”

Well, fuck you, then.

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