Page 133 of Full Tilt
“Tell me what you were going to say,” I press.
Holt looks unsure.
“Please,” I say.
He shifts in his chair and glances at my boyfriend again. “When you first told me that Tommy had saved you from an attack, I was worried that you felt like you owed him something. Or that you could have your feelings confused over him.”
I go to shut that shit straight down, but Holt gets there first.
“And I’m glad I didn’t say that to you at the time because …” He drops his eyes to my hands, wrapped around Tommy’s. “I know now that you aren’t mixed up over him at all.”
He smiles like he’s having a private joke with himself or possibly like that feeling is familiar to him. I want to ask what that’s about but decide that now isn’t the right time.
“You love him, don’t you, Jen?”
I couldn’t be surer of anything in my entire life.
“Yes,” I whisper, picking Tommy’s hand up and kissing his tattooed knuckles. “I do. I only wish I’d stopped fucking around and returned the words before he took the hit.”
Another tear slides down my cheek, splashing onto Tommy’s hand. I don’t bother to wipe it away. I know Tommy wouldn’t want me to.
Holt stands from his chair, leaning down to set a soft kiss into my hair. “Then tell him now. The doctors have said he’ll likely be listening. So, go ahead, sis. Tell your man that you love him.”
As the door closes behind Holt, I’m left, once again, with only the beeps of Tommy’s machines, and I tip my head toward the ceiling, making a silent plea to fate.
Please, let him be okay.
“Jenna.”
I practically give myself whiplash when Tommy whispers my name.
“Tommy!” I whisper-hiss. “Tommy, tell me I’m not hearing things.”
With the hand and wrist that’s in plaster, Tommy reaches up to try and remove his mask.
“No. No, baby. You need to keep that on.”
On a wince, he removes it anyway, and I’m too relieved to be mad at him.
“You need to put it back on,” I repeat.
Tommy’s eyes are barely open as he tries to absorb his surroundings. I can see the confusion in his eyes, but I take solace in the fact that he’s already said my name.
“Where the fuck am I?” He slurs his words, but I can make out what he’s asking.
“In the hospital,” I reply. “You took a bad hit, and you’re just waking up.”
“I had crazy dreams.”
I blow out a soft laugh and lean forward, setting a chaste kiss against his dry lips.
I want to offer him a drink, but I know I’m not allowed to do that. “Do you want me to wet your lips and call the nurse?”
I’m not sure if he understood what I said, and I go to pick up the cup of water set on the table next to his bed.
“No,” Tommy groans.
“What do you need?”
