Too Much to Lose (27 page)

The man pauses and frowns as I
come to Hunter’s bedside.

“He’s my—”I fumble for an explanation
“—my boyfriend.”

“I’m just going to take him to
the ward while they wait for results,” the grey-haired man explains but I don’t
really hear him.

Hunter’s face is unnaturally
pale, his beautiful eyes shut. His stubble appears even darker against his
ashen skin and there are hollows beneath his eyes. A dark purple bruise mars
his forehead. I fight back the tears, reach over the bars and smooth a hand
over his messy hair.

“Miss Callahan?”

I peer behind me to see Mark
waiting with the wheelchair. I sink into it as my legs give way. I can’t keep
my gaze from Hunter. It’s too weird seeing this strong, capable man so
vulnerable. He’s so good at taking care of me I took it for granted that
nothing could bring him so low.

I clamp a hand over my mouth as
a sob threatens to well up.

“You can stay with him for a
while,” Mark informs me, “but you’ll need to get some rest too.”

I nod, unable to make my voice
work. We follow the other porter and Hunter through the corridors and back into
the elevator. This time it’s busier and there are people between me and the
bed. I can’t see him properly and my palms itch with the need to be touching
him. I can’t help feel that if I can just reassure him I’m here, everything
will be all right.

Or perhaps it’s just me who
needs the reassurance.

They take us to a different
ward, the walls lined with blue stripes as opposed to the yellow on the ward I
was. I guess it’s to help you find your way around but I doubt very much I
could find my way back without help. Not that I want to. I’ll stay by Hunter’s
side for as long as they let me.

When he’s installed safely back
in his bay, Mark wheels me next to him. “Thank you.” I motion to the bed. “Can
you take the side down?”

“Sure.” Mark unlatches the side
and slides it down.

I shift the chair closer and
take Hunter’s hand. It’s surprisingly warm and I savour it, remembering a time
when that hand was touching my face and my body.

“A porter will be down to
collect you in about an hour and a half.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I don’t want to think about
leaving Hunter but I’ll take what I can get. The painkillers seem to be kicking
in and the pounding in my head is now just a dull ache. I study Hunter’s hand,
threading my fingers between his large blunt ones. With my other hand, I stroke
his hair and forehead. His chest rises and falls steadily, the wide strength so
at odds with the flimsy hospital gown with its garish multi-coloured print—the
name of the hospital repeated across it over and over.

I rest my head against his arm
and wait. Time drifts. I recall all the words I wish I hadn’t said. How
distrustful and how scared I was. For what? For it all to be taken away from
me? Nothing is scarier than the man I love being hurt. And I contributed to
that.

The gentle pulse of his skin
against my forehead quickens and I drag my head up. With sticky palms, I brush
a hand across his forehead. Is he dying? Does he have internal injuries? I
glance around for a nurse or anyone but I can’t see anyone nearby and I can’t
leave him.

Mouth dry, I study his face.
I’ve never seen anyone die. What happens? A flicker behind his eyelids catches
my eye and I hold my breath. Tears threaten to burst free. Another flicker. His
lashes move marginally. I release a squeak. More movements and his eyes open,
unfocussed. His lids are at half-mast so I can’t see the colours in his eyes but
it’s enough.

“Nurse!” I cry out and try to
stand but I’m too weak from fear.

He rolls his head around and I
see him hone in on me. The tiniest up-tilt of his lips sends my racing heart
into overdrive and I let out a sob.

“Jess.” His voice is gritty and
barely audible.

“Yes, I’m here.” I press a palm
along his rough cheek. It’s probably my imagination but his skin feels warmer,
full of life.

“What…?”

“You’re in hospital. We came
off the bike, remember?”

Hunter’s eyes widen. “You…
hurt… ?”

“No, I’m fine. You hit your
head, Hunter. Badly. We’re just waiting for scan results. How… how do you
feel?”

“Like… I fell off a bike…”

I let slip a relieved giggle as
a nurse hastens over and begins checking him. A doctor joins in and I observe.
Dread curdles my stomach. He might be awake but I won’t feel assured until
we’re out of this hospital and Hunter is warm and well in my arms.

The middle-aged doctor steps
back. “Mr O’Reilly, you’ve had quite a hit. We should have your CT results any
moment now, but you’ll need to stay in for observation after being unconscious
for so long,” he warns.

“He’s going to be okay?” I ask
hopefully

“We’ll know for sure once we’ve
got the scan results.”

The doctor leaves and Hunter
struggles to sit for a drink. I help him, holding the straw so he can get a
sip. With a heavy breath, he sags down and turns his gaze to me.

“I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t
know what happened.” Each word seems to take so much effort that tears threaten
to well again.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m meant to protect you.”

“You do.” Before he can say anything,
I shift closer and bury my head into his shoulder. His lips brush my forehead.
“I thought you were going to die.”

“Not likely. Wouldn’t leave
you.”

“Good. Don’t ever leave me.”

“Never,” he promises gruffly.
“Never, princess.”

Jess

Hunter ushers me into the hotel room with a hand to my back.
A sumptuous bed with purple pillows awaits. I long to sink into it. It’s been
an exhausting few days, waiting for Hunter to recover and be discharged from
the hospital. I turn and motion to the bed.

“Sit down. You must be tired.”

He shrugs and winces. With his
arm in a sling, he’s been getting grumpier and grumpier about not being able to
look after himself properly. Thank goodness it’s only sprained. Even the bump to
his head is easing. Looking sulky, he throws himself onto the soft bed.

“Mitch is going to bring along
some stuff later.” I fling down the plastic bag with our battered leathers in.
Thankfully Mitch and Hunter’s other close friend, Connor, brought along a few
changes of clothes to the hospital.

I glance around the suite.
Mitch must have paid a decent amount for the room but I won’t tell Hunter that.
Last thing he needs to be worrying about is paying Mitch back when we’re both
too poor to pay for a hotel. But until the police finish forensics on Hunter’s
bike and track down Lucas, his house is too dangerous.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

I smother a giggle at his
petulant tone. “Tired?”

“I’ve been in a bed for days.”
He glowers at me.  “Stop babying me.”

Coming to stand in front of
him, I thread my fingers through his hair and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m
going to take care of you whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t need looking after.”

“You could have died!”

“And leave you?” Hunter nuzzles
against the cotton of my top. “Never.” He lifts his head to stare up at me. “I
should be looking after you, not the other way around. I can’t believe I lost
control of the bike.”

“It wasn’t your fault. The
brakes were cut.” I shudder when I consider Lucas sneaking around and deliberately
damaging Hunter’s motorbike. 

“Poor Harley.”

“I’m sorry, Hunter.”

“Not as sorry as I am. I had a
buyer lined up for it and everything.”

“A buyer?”

“Was trying to make ends meet
after I told Carl to stuff his job.”

“Oh, Hunter…” If I wasn’t already
convinced I was mistaken about Hunter, I would be by now.

“I should have realized
something was wrong. Fuck, I was so stupid. Too busy worrying you wouldn’t ever
forgive me.”

I shake my head. “Not your
fault,” I tell him again. “Quit playing the hero and suck it up, O’Reilly. I’m
going to pour you a bath.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I spin away before
he can protest any longer and begin pouring the bath. When it’s full, I turn
off the tap and go back into the room to lead him in.

An eyebrow rises as he eyes the
bath. “Bubbles?”

“Yes, bubbles.” I resist the
urge to laugh at this expression. “You need bubbles right now.”

Hunter takes a step forward,
eyes me from under his dark brow and loops his uninjured arm around my waist,
pulling me sharply into him. I barely smother a gasp.

“The only thing I need right
now is…” he lays his lips on my neck “…you.”

Warm, rough kisses send my
nerve endings tingling and I almost forget I’m meant to be looking after him.
Palms to his chest, I push him away gently. “You need to relax and heal.”

His lips twist but he relents
and lets me untie his sling. “Where did you get them anyway?”

“The bubbles?”

“Yes, the bubbles. I don’t
recall ever having a bubble bath in my life.”

“The hotel gift shop.”

He laughs. “You’re really something,
princess.”

“What? I was worried and I
wanted to do something for you.”

“I like that.”

“What? That I wanted to do
something for you?”

I run the sling between my
hands. I’m still trying to absorb everything that happened—all the feelings I’m
having. Am I still mad at him? No, I don’t think I can be. I get it. Hunter is
just like me—has made the same mistakes as me. He was driven to do things he
didn’t want to and he regrets them just as much.

“No, well, yes… but that you
were worried for me. It means you care.”

“Oh, Hunter, I… I more than
care.” To my dismay, tears well in my eyes—tears I thought I’d already shed.

He closes the distance once
more and swipes a thumb under my eye. “Don’t cry, Jessie baby, I’m okay.” With
a tilt of his head, he motions to the bath. “Are you going to continue taking
care of me then?”

A bubble of laughter sneaks up
on me and I shake my head at his expression—the cocky raised brow and
suggestive smile. I can’t deny I want to take care of him in many, many ways
but he still needs to recuperate. Somehow, I’m going to have to control myself.

His sling cast aside, I ponder
his black shirt. “I don’t know how to get that off without hurting you. How did
you get it on in the first place?”

“I think I was pretty drugged
up.”

Tentatively, I lift the hem and
pray he doesn’t hear my intake of breath when my fingers connect with warm
flesh. I strongly suspect I could have Hunter naked for hours and never tire of
the sight. It feels so good to have him warm and vital in front of me. I can’t believe
how close I came to losing him. Hopefully the cops will figure out what
happened but for the moment I can’t bring myself to feel anything but grateful
we’re alive.

I lift his T-shirt to his
armpits and he tries to raise his arm but his face contorts with pain and I
drop it.

“Damn.” He hisses.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. I guess
the painkillers have worn off.”

“You’re not due anymore for
another hour.”

“Rip it.”

“What?”

“Rip it off.” He chuckles when I
blink at him. “The T-shirt?”

“Oh. You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s just a T-shirt.”

I reach for the hem again and
tug, letting loose a sound of frustration when it doesn’t give. I try again and
Hunter laughs.

“Don’t laugh. It’s not easy.”

With one hand, he directs mine
to hold the bottom tight and he pulls hard. The top rips at the side seam and I
can tear it apart.

“Show off.” I stick out my
tongue as I yank at the sleeve and it tears there too. I fling the tattered
fabric aside.

“Under any other circumstances,
I’d really be enjoying this.”

“Oh really?” Finding the snap
of his jeans, I pop it open and pull down the zipper. His arousal juts against
his briefs. “Looks to me like you’re enjoying it already.”

“You can’t blame me. You just
need to touch me and I’m hard and here you are stripping me.”

“I don’t blame you, Hunter.” I
say softly, unable to resist skimming my fingers down his stomach. “Just
touching you turns me on too.”

He groans. “You’re not making
this any easier.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

I don’t argue. He’s right. I
can’t help enjoying this little bit of power. The man has so much over me, it’s
nice to redress the balance.