Page 3 of BillionHeir
“Me too,” I answer flatly. “At least, I think.”
“Oh, now, that is enough of that,” she says, fussing around the room as she records my vitals and types something into the bedside computer station. “You just focus on getting back on your feet. You need to get as much rest as you can.”
I look over at Tristan and Liam. “How is my company?” I have never been away from work for more than a night since I inherited Banks International when my parents passed away nearly 20 years ago. I don’t trust anyone else enough.
“It is running smoothly as usual. You have built a well-oiled machine, Max. It is quite impressive,” Tristan says with a tone of respect in his voice I haven’t heard before. “Ethan has been managing most of the day-to-day work and calling me when he needs advice. He is back in Boston now, otherwise he would still be here with you.”
“Here, as in, Seattle?” I ask, still trying to make sense of everything.
“Correct,” Katrina says from her chair at the computer. I had almost forgotten she was there.
“When can I go home?”
She looks me over with a slight look of doubt before answering. “You are not going to be able to go straight home. You will probably need a couple of months in a rehab facility after all these injuries. But we will see what the doctor says when they come around in the morning, okay?” she asks, her voice syrupy sweet. We are both aware there was no real question there.
I take a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying not to get overwhelmed. This is so much to take in. I look over at my friends, glad they were here when I woke up in this strange place.
“Thank you, guys, for being here,” I finally say.
“Of course. We came as soon as we heard,” Liam says.
“So, what now?” I ask, trying to pull myself together.
“You need to rest,” Katrina says pointedly for what feels like the hundredth time, cutting her eyes to my friends and making her feelings about them known without saying a word.
Tristan puts his hands up defensively.
“Point taken,” he says to her with a friendly smile, tapping Liam on the back. “Come on, then. We will leave you and be back in the morning to hear what the doctors have to say. Get some rest, mate.”
I nod my head and immediately regret it. My forehead starts pounding, and I can feel any energy I thought I had quickly waning.
Liam stands from his seat, watching me carefully as though he wants to say something.
“What?” I ask him, knowing he needs to get it out.
“I am just glad you are alive, man.”
His eyes shine with unshed tears, and it is only then that I take notice of how haggard and disheveled my two friends look. I don’t think I have ever seen either of them look quite so terrible, and we have been through hell together. They have obviously been worried about me. I hate that I caused them so much turmoil.
“I am sorry,” I respond, unable to find the words to say anything else.
“Don’t apologize. You can’t control the weather. What you need to worry about is getting back on your feet,” Tristan says.
He is right. I know he is. But that is going to be hard to do when the guilt I feel is already sitting on my chest like an elephant, pinning me to the hospital bed instead of the grave I should be in.
“You got it,” I respond without conviction.
Tristan gives Liam a look of concern.
“Would you two quit hovering over me like two worried grannies? It is suffocating!”
“There he is,” Liam says with a laugh. “Let’s go, Tris.”
“We will see you in the morning,” he says as they leave.
Once they are gone, I take a deep breath, but I don’t feel any better.
Katrina clears her throat from her seat at the computer. Of course she is still here. I roll my eyes but say nothing. This woman doesn’t deserve my frustration or anger. Neither do my friends, really, but I know they can take it.
