Page 113 of Reverb
“That it?” All good stuff, but she really wanted to see David.
“Yeah. Go on. He’s in the second room on the left.”
Mish went. Behind her, Marcella spoke. “How about you guys wait a little?”
Bless that woman. She’d been the right choice for their manager after all.
Mish slowed when she closed in on the door, took a deep breath to slow her racing heart, then entered.
Chapter Twenty-Two
More than anything in the world, David fuckinghatedhospitals. Granted, he hated most medical-related things, since so many doctors generally had no fuckingcluehow to handle the fact that he was trans. At least this round of medical shit hadn’t been so bad. He suspected that was largely due to Marcella handling the medical details, down to informing them about his sulfa allergy.
Everyone had used the correct pronouns, which sometimes didn’t happen despite the voice and beard, and all involved in his care had been respectful, thank goodness. Still, everything about medicine rankled his last nerve and past experiences kept him constantly on vigil and so damn aware of his body that he felt every brush of the sheet and the hospital gown on his skin. He wanted out.
They wanted him to stay. He was going to have to stay. Fucking fucker with the fucking blade.
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. The pain meds had certainly diminished his vocabulary. Back in the army, he’d have come up with a much better string of expletives to call that meat-headed lug.
David had been lucky. Knives werebad. Puncture wounds in the chest or stomach were even worse. So much could go wrong. So muchhadn’t, which was a miracle. And Mish was safe. The stalker was in custody. Sure, David had been taken out of commission, but the danger to Mish had been removed.
She could go on with her life, and he had a reason to slip away and let her do that. Marly would keep her safe now. That was enough.
His chest ached for an entirely different reason than the stitched-up hole in his side, and he closed his eyes, wishing the drugs they’d given him would quiet his mind and soothe his soul, too.
“David?”
Mish’s voice crashed into him and took away all hope of easing his heartache. He blinked open his eyes.
“Hey.” He didn’t know whether to usebabyorrock queenorprincessor what. No clue what he was now. No longer her bodyguard. Not her boyfriend. “How are you holding up?”
She shifted closer, walking carefully, as if unsure the floor would support her. “Me?” She grunted. “I’m fine. Little bruised.” She held up her hand.
It was more than a little bruised and Mish wasnotfine. Any fool could tell that. But he knew better than to comment. “Better than me, then.” That, at least, was the truth.
Her smile was wan and sad. “I’m so sorry.”
“Baby.” That slipped out, and he shook his head. “Mish, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
Her lips twitched. “Everyone keeps saying that—but I didn’t run when you told me to.”
No, she hadn’t. Maybe if she had, he could have taken that shitstain down without getting hurt.Maybe.
He took a breath. “I don’t think he brought the knife for you—or not entirely for you. Dude wanted me out of the picture.” So he could have Mish to himself. Hell, he’d likely have taken out Ray, Zavier, Dom, and Adrian, too, if that had meant getting her.
Something shifted in Mish, and she looked away. “He had a knife back then, too. Probably thought it would scare me into silence.”
A yawning pit opened in David. “Did he hurt you then?”
Mish shook her head, a real smile gracing her lips. “Mom punched him in the face when I screamed. Like mother like daughter, I guess.” She lifted her hand again.
She wasn’t going to be playing bass any time soon. Good thing the tour had a break for most of July. “You should have someone look at that. Don’t want those cuts infected.”
“I’m sure Marcella already has someone waiting for me in the hall.”
“She’s good. Takes care of you all. You’ll need that.” Especially since he wouldn’t be there anymore.
Yeah, Mish had followed his train of thought, because the anguish on her face was mirror to the twisting of his soul. “David.”
