49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Ethan

My eyelids are glued together, and when I finally pry them open, my eyes hurt like they're full of sand. I try to move my hand, but everything hurts too much. I seem to be in a hospital, which means that I'm likely not dead. That's a good start. But there's something more important on my mind than my own wellbeing. "K… Kayla?" I rasp out to no one in particular.

A small, warm hand gently squeezes my own, then the most beautiful voice in the universe reaches my ears. "I'm here, Ethan. Everything is okay. Here, drink."

My body wants to slip back into sweet unconsciousness, but I force myself to stay awake. Kayla wants me to drink, so I'll drink.

The water helps me awaken a little more, enough to truly take in the room full of flowers. There's another hospital bed next to mine, and above it hovers Kayla's swollen, bruised face. "Oh god, bunny." I try to sit up, but a flare of pain from my abdomen knocks me back into my pillow. Right. The bastard shot me. "Are you okay, Kayla? Did he hurt you?"

"Not really. Just a couple of bruises and a concussion. It's no big deal. You were the one who almost died." She squeezes my hand harder, and a few tears roll down her face. "I was so scared when you passed out. There was so much blood." Then she glares at me. "I would have hated you forever if you died, Ethan, so think about that next time you challenge someone holding a gun!"

A chuckle is an exceptionally bad idea that ends in a groan of pain. "How long was I out?" Her bruises look at least a day old, so it must have been a while.

"Two days. You woke up three or four times already, but you just whispered my name and passed out again. The nurses said it was normal. I also had to chase them out of the room once when you started rambling about killing people." She also groans in pain when she chuckles. "You get a little too chatty with anesthesia coursing through your veins."

I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling like an idiot. I don't remember any of that. Did I really start talking about my murders in front of people? "Thank you, Kayla. For everything. You saved me." How long would the nurses think I'm just talking nonsense before they'd actually call the police? Thank god I've never needed anesthesia before.

Kayla shrugs. "Well, you saved my life, so I'd say we're even. Adams lost his eye, and the sheriff is walking around the town telling everyone how Ethan Bennett hit the bullseye again. How can such an idiot be in charge of anything, let alone a police department?"

I don't try chuckling this time, but I do snort. "He's childhood friends with the mayor. So, the dart actually hit Adams?" I'm surprised. I was barely conscious when throwing it, my hands slick with blood. It's a miracle I hit him at all.

"Yeah, the slime was everywhere." Kayla shudders, rubbing at her arm. "It was horrifying. I maced him, too."

"Good girl. You were so brave. Fighting even when I told you to run. Infuriating, but brave."

"I couldn't just leave you there. You were bleeding!"

Not just bleeding, dying. I remember the feeling of dread as blood continued to seep between my fingers. How cold everything felt, how dark. Kayla was the only reason I kept fighting. The reason I'll always keep fighting. "I'll spank you for disobeying me later," I tease, relieved to see her smiling at me. "Did Adams say something to the police? About me?"

"Oh, yes. Fortunately, it got lost in the middle of all the other nonsense he was spewing. One minute, he claimed that I was the one who tried to kill him. The next he was shouting that he's going to murder you and piss on your grave." Kayla smirks. "No one will take anything he says seriously. Besides, Sheriff Moron laughed at the idea of the famous Ethan Bennett being a serial killer."

The last bits of tension dissipate, my mind finally relaxing. We're alive, mostly unharmed, and safe from the police. What more could one want? Except… "Will you ride my cock on this stupid hospital bed before we go home?"

Kayla rolls her eyes. "You're an idiot, you know that? You have a hole in your stomach. There will be no cock riding until that heals. Also, there's a tube coming out of your cock, connected to a bag of urine. I'm not riding that. But I am glad you're feeling well enough to joke about this."

I haven't been joking, but I guess she's right. I can't imagine there's anything sexy about me right now. Kayla slips off my bed, swaying a little as she takes the two steps required to get to her own. "We're roommates?" I ask, surprised they let her stay here with me. I haven't assigned her as my emergency contact yet.

"Mhm." She grunts as she lies down. "I just took on a crazed sociopath with a gun. A little nurse with a bedpan doesn't scare me. I told her they'll either move my bed here or I'll sleep on the floor. They don't like patients sleeping on the floor, apparently."

I laugh, once again forgetting about the gut wound. "Fuck, bunny. Stop making me laugh." I shift on the bed, trying to find a position where my entire being doesn't ache, but there doesn't seem to be one. As I look around, I finally take in the flowers covering every available surface. "Your coworkers must miss you," I note, not without jealousy.

"Me?" Kayla snickers. "Try again, big guy. Those are all for you, from your many admirers. All I'll be getting will be death threats once the word gets out that I've nabbed the most desired bachelor in Bluebell Springs."

Women are sending me flowers? Jesus Christ. I may have taken my "friendly neighbor" disguise a little too far. "I'll kill anyone who threatens you. After someone takes that tube out of my cock, of course. I'm not walking around with a bag of my own piss."

This time, it's Kayla who laughs and groans in pain. "Asshole."

"Revenge's a bitch, bunny," I reply with a grin.

The silence that stretches between us is surprisingly comfortable.

"I wish they'd shift this stupid bed closer to yours," Kayla sighs. "I'd love to hold your hand, but I can't stay upright for too long. And no," she adds before I can say anything, "you're not getting up. You've been shot, Ethan. Stay in the fucking bed."

"Yes, ma'am." As much as I'd love to act brave and careless and just hop into her bed, I don't think I can even sit up on my own right now.

"Will you kill Adams?"

Kayla's voice is emotionless as she asks the question, not allowing me to guess her thoughts. Does she want me to kill him? Does she want me not to kill him? "Yes, I will," I answer truthfully. It doesn't matter if he's in a hospital, jail, or a psychiatric ward. I'll find a way to get rid of him permanently, like I should have done weeks ago.

Kayla grunts in what I hope is approval. "Good. I love you, Ethan. Please, don't scare me like this again."

Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Or perhaps it's just the drugs I'm on. Either way, I'm feeling weightless, and I'm sure I'm sporting a rather idiotic smile. She loves me. I'll never tire of hearing it.

"I love you too, Kayla. More than anything. I can't promise I'll never get hurt again, but I can promise you I'll be careful and that I'll always do my best to come back home to you."

"Home," she whispers. "That sounds good. After we get the pink drapes, of course."

This time, I stem my chuckle so that my stomach doesn't protest. "Whatever you want, bunny." I know she's just teasing me, but even if she really did want pink drapes, I'd endure it. I'll endure anything as long as it means keeping her near.

All that for one simple reason—I can no longer live without Kayla Reynolds.