Page 113 of The Vows We Keep
“You need anything?” Spark asks.
“Yeah. For everyone to fuck off,” I say. Then I take a breath. “Sorry. Meds. I’m grateful for all your help. But I really need some quiet. The last couple of days have been more than my ADHD-brain can deal with.”
“Understood,” King says. “You need anything, Cat, just message me, yeah?”
Catalina nods. “I will.”
There are hugs and shoulder slaps. I’m also at my peak of people touching me. Doctors. Nurses. Friends.
When the door closes, I breathe a sigh of relief. I close my eyes in the middle of the living room and listen. There’s no beeping. No machines. No waking me every two hours to check for a concussion. I tried to tell the hospital I hadn’t hit my head, but they believed my lie that I’d come off my bike and therefore must have taken a hit.
Catalina slips down next to me and plants a kiss on my pec. “You okay there?”
“Sorry about all this,” I say, looking down at the cast.
“You saved my life, Colton. And this”—she taps her nail gently on the top of the cast—“is temporary. It’s my pleasure to help.”
We sit together quietly until an idea strikes me. It’s difficult to wrap my head around what the next few months will look like as I heal, but I know there’s one thing I really want to do. “I had a thought.”
Catalina looks up at me. “Yeah, what’s that.”
“Date me, Cat.”
She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “What?”
“You heard me. I’ve been thinking. We skipped everything. You’re already my old lady. Let’s go back to the beginning. I know it’s going to be a pain with the cast and everything, but let’s do it right here in our house for now. We’ll picnic in the back garden. I don’t know, watch movies or something, and I’ll try to get to second base. I might need help with more date ideas because I obviously suck at them.” Catalina’s silence makes me second guess myself. “Never mind. It was a stupid fucking idea.”
Catalina climbs to her knees next to me. “It’s not stupid. You can teach me to bake. And we’ll work out together as you rehab.”
Relief seeps through me. “Yeah. Things that aren’t to do with the club and the life. Things that are just ours.”
“Things that are just ours. I love that.”
I smile and run my knuckle down her cheek. “Can we start tomorrow? I need to sleep off all these painkillers.”
“You want me to help you get upstairs to bed?”
I shake my head, and Catalina grabs the blanket off the back of the sofa. “I’ve got you,” she says as she places it over me.
And I fall asleep, knowing that she does.
36
EPILOGUE: NIRO
MAY
“Look at you, all ready to dance the fucking polka,” Clutch says as we walk around the back lot of the clubhouse.
No cast. No crutches. Nothing.
I can finally walk, as long as the weather isn’t damp, and when my knee doesn’t ache.
“Came on the bike,” I say. And it was a bit of a journey to do that. I’ve only been cast free for a few weeks. There’s no doubting my leg is weak. Hell, my whole body is. I’ve done my best to train my upper body, but shit is hard with a full-length leg cast healing a broken femur and shattered kneecap. I’m a mash-up of internal fixation with metal rods and good old-fashioned bones knitting back together.
I’ve started physio, strengthening my leg back up. They say it’s going to be a few more months before I’m back to how I was, but I’m ready to get back to work on all fronts.
The bit I didn’t admit to the club until the bike I’d agreed to buy from King sat on my driveway the first time, was that I’d had dreams. No, not dreams, fucking nightmares. Falling off the bike into never-ending slides along the ground. Breaking bones, losing skin. Catching fire. Killing myself. Killing others.
