I gasp when he pulls out his own IV, leaving it dangling on the bedrail.
“Holy crap,” I breathe, eyeing the limp tube. “I could’ve gotten the nurse.”
He rolls his eyes. “And we could’ve waited for an hour. It’s fine. It’s just pulling a needle out. Not exactly rocket science.”
He blots at a tiny spot of blood, and I catch sight of yet another tattoo. I remember seeing it when he was pulling the debris off of me in the café, but I couldn’t make out the words then, not through the smoke and the haze of my concussion. Without thinking, I pick up his arm and turn it over, exposing his forearm.
Black words scrawl from the wrist to the elbow.
Though I walk through the valley of death, I fear no evil.
My lady parts tingle.
This man is like catnip for my vagina.
I gulp. “I like your tattoos.”
Brand glances up. “Yeah, I was lucky. Right after I discharged, they changed the rules. Said that officers can’t have tattoos from their elbows to their wrists. I would’ve been screwed.”
“I like them,” I tell him softly, which is the biggest understatement in the history of the world. I fricking love them. They reveal so much about this man, more than I bet he wants people to know.
Honor. Bravery. Strength. Loyalty.
God. My nether-regions are tingling again.
“Thanks,” Brand answers. He twists away to gather his things on the bed table and I realize that I had still been holding his arm as I pondered his many sexy traits.
Embarrassing.
A nurse comes to help transfer Brand to a wheelchair, and I watch how she does it, filing it away for future use. She also explains to him once again how to clean the wound on his thigh and lectures him one more time about not over-doing it.
“Now don’t put any weight on that leg,” she tells him sternly. “I don’t want a repeat of last night.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Last night?”
She shakes her head. “Mr. Killien is stubborn. He got up in the night by himself to go to the bathroom. Apparently, he didn’t want to use his bedpan.”
He snorts. “No one wants to use a bedpan.”
She scowls at him. “No weight on that leg. Period. You can’t break open your artery again, and you don’t want to put weight on your knee and ankle.” She looks at me. “You’ll make sure, right?”
I nod quickly. To be honest, I’m a bit afraid of the stern old woman.
She wheels him down to the first floor and I trail behind with his sack of belongings. Glancing inside, I just find his pants that they cut off, his wallet and a phone.
I wonder if anyone has called him? If anyone has thought to look for him or check on him?
Because he seems so alone.
It tugs on the maternal place in my heart, the place that wants to keep him safe. He’s obviously seen so much shit, so much terrible shit, all while ‘standing on a wall’ to protect me and everyone else in this country. Taking care of him now would be the least I could do.
And God, I want to be near him.
I want to breathe him in.
I want his goodness to fix me.
Please, God.
We slide the passenger seat of my car all the way back, and between the nurse, Brand and me, we get him situated. His long leg, encased in a knee brace, barely fits.
As I get in, I glance at him. “Just tell me where to go.”
He nods. “Sure. We’re headed to my friend’s cottage out by the lake. I’ll tell you where to turn.”
“Okay.” I head for the exit and Brand runs his finger along the leather-bound dashboard.
“Nice car,” he tells me casually as I turn onto the highway.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks. I wanted a convertible, but my father thought that was too tacky.”
“A Jaguar XJ isn’t anything to sneeze at,” he answers. “Although they’re mechanical pieces of shit.”
I snort back laughter. “Tell that to my father. He gave it to me as a graduation gift. I know, it’s a grandma car.”
“It is a little….geriatric,” Brand grins. “But it’s still nice.”
It’s the absolute story of my life. I want something, my father wants something else, and guess who wins that battle?
“Turn here,” Brand tells me after a few minutes. Honeysuckle Drive.
“What a charming name,” I muse aloud.
The road is just as charming as the name implies. Lined with shady trees, I idle down the quiet lane to the very end, to a little cottage perched on the lake. Cute and quaint, it’s got vines growing up the side, a porch with two rocking chairs, and pots of flowers out front.
“This is a adorable,” I observe before I get out and pull the wheelchair from the trunk.
I unfold it and push it over to the passenger side, but Brand scowls at it. “I’m not using that thing.”
I scowl back. “Well, you certainly can’t bear weight, and we don’t have your crutches yet. So get into it, Killien.”
Brand’s head snaps up in surprise, then he bursts out laughing.
“A bit bossy, aren’t you?” His eyes sparkle and it takes my breath away. “It’s a good thing bossy looks good on you.”
I smirk and hold the chair and Brand twists himself from the car and drops into it, all without managing to put weight on his leg. It’s not without effort and I can see his face is a bit pale.
“We’ll get you some pain pills in the house,” I tell him. “The nurse said you could have one soon.”
I wheel him to the door.
“The key is on top of the sill,” he tells me. “Can you reach it?”
Barely.
But I manage, by stretching up on the very tip of my toes. When I turn back around, Brand is watching me, and heat floods my cheeks. His gaze had been fixed on my ass, on the way my shirt had pulled up as I stretched.
I want him to watch me, to see me, yet when he does, I get as flustered as the thirteen-year old I used to be. Gah.
I unlock the door and him inside.
The inside of the cottage is as cute as the outside, but it does have a pent-up musty smell and it’s stifling hot.
“I’m going to open the windows,” I tell Brand. “We need some air flowing. And I’ll change the sheets on the bed for you. I’m guessing this cottage hasn’t been opened up for the season.”
“No, it hasn’t,” Brand agrees.
I push him over to the windows where he can look out over the lake while I wander about, opening windows, opening all the faucets to get fresh water flowing, and hunting for linens.
As I do, my phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out, staring at the screen, expecting to see my father or my mom, or even Nate.
But I don’t.
My heart leaps into my throat, locking it up, when I see the name. I’m frozen for a minute, paralyzed. You’re an idiot. It’s just a freaking phone call. He can’t hurt you here.
I will myself to move, and I’m finally able to shove the phone back into my pocket without answering it. But I feel it there, like a blazing piece of charcoal, taunting me.
I blink hard.
“You can answer that,” Brand tells me, staring at me curiously. “I don’t mind.”
I shake my head. “It’s no one important.”
Only the devil himself.
Brand still stares at me. “Are you all right?”
No.
“Yes,” I lie. “It’s just hot in here. Opening the windows will help.”
Trying to ignore the way my heart is pounding, I bring Brand a glass of water and one of his pain pills.
“I’ll go into the pharmacy and get your prescription filled today,” I tell him. “The hospital only sent ten pills. I’ll pick up your crutches while I’m there.”