Page 130 of Beautiful Trauma
I nodded. “He doesn’t believe I could truly care for you or that you could care for me.”
“How could he possibly think that?”
With a shrug, I replied, “Maybe he’s never experienced falling for someone.”
“I don’t think that he has,” she lamented.
“If he had, he would understand caring for someone enough that you would die for them.”
“I know,” she murmured. With a sigh, she said, “Let’s not talk about him anymore.”
My heart ached at the turmoil in her eyes. “What about you? Are you okay?”
“You don’t need to worry about me when you’re in the shape that you are.”
“Yes, I fucking do.” I shook my head at her. “I’ll always worry about you, Mila. In the good and the bad.”
Staring down at her hands, she said, “They had the doctor give me a sedative, so I slept about nine hours. Your brothers stayed with you while I was out.”
“Good. I’m glad you got some rest.””
“Want me to get your brothers?”
Rubbing my hands over my face, I replied, “Yeah, I better get this over with.”
Mila laughed as she rose out of her chair. When she went over to the door, it flew open. “You’re awake,” Callum said almost accusingly.
“It just happened,” Mila said. When Callum shot her a look, she held up her hand. “I swear.”
“Seriously? The two of you have been yapping in here for a while,” Dare countered as he swept inside the door.
“Five minutes max,” she argued.
He winked at her. “We know you needed a moment with your love machine.”
Mila snorted. “Love machine?”
“Don’t you have a term of endearment for him?”
“Yeah, but it sure as hell isn’t love machine,” she challenged, wrinkling her nose.
Dare turned his attention to me. “You look like a slapped arse.”
I chuckled. “Thanks. I imagined as much.”
As he came over to one side of the bed, Quinn went to the other. “You do look better than when we first saw you.”
“They’re giving me the good stuff because I don’t feel a thing.”
He winked. “We’ll be sure to get you a suitcase full of it when you head home.”
“Thanks.”
I glanced at Callum standing at the foot of the bed. He crossed his arms over his chest. You’re a tough fucker, boyo.”
“That’s not what you really want to say, is it?”
“Aye, it is.”
