Chapter 8

Harley

I satin the waiting room in the hospital as if I had a right to be here.

Visiting hours were over, Tommy and I were no longer related, and he probably didn’t want to see me anyway.

But I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

When Wynter finally came out from visiting him, I was almost breathless waiting for the news.

“He’s fine,” she said, nodding. “Awake, alert, and his usual cranky self when he doesn’t feel good.”

“Thank god.” I let out a huge breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

“The damage to the skin on his shoulder should heal well if he does what he’s supposed to, and I don’t think the dislocated knee will keep him out of commission too long. Again, if he does what he’s supposed to.”

“He’s a terrible patient,” I murmured.

“He is,” she agreed. “I just yelled at him about it, but you know Tommy.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you go home and let the babysitter get home too?”

I lifted my hands in a somewhat helpless gesture. “I can’t leave him. He doesn’t know I’m here, but my gut tells me I need to be. In my heart of hearts, he’s still my husband.”

She sighed and sank down next to me. “Sweetie, you know I adore the big jerk. He’ll always be a brother to me, but you are actually my sister, and you come first. You and Tommy need to clear the air or neither of you are ever going to get any peace. I can’t possibly understand your dynamic since I’ve never been married, but the two of you were so in love… it’s almost painful to see you apart. One of you has to make the first move, to find a way to let go of the past. If you don’t, I’m afraid neither of you will ever move on.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Now I’m going home because I have to be back here tomorrow. Plus it’s ridiculous to pay the babysitter for you to just sit here staring at the walls.”

“I’ll be home soon. Promise.”

She shook her head. “Liar. You’re going to sit here all night, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be home in time to get River up.”

“You need to rest, Harley.” She shook her head but finally left me to my thoughts. “I’ll get up with him.”

“You’re the best sister ever,” I said softly. “I know intellectually that being here is stupid, but emotionally, it’s like I’m rooted to the damn chair. I can’t make myself get up. I have to be here even though he doesn’t know and doesn’t care.”

“Oh, I think he cares.”

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. A gut feeling, I guess.”

Touche.

Gut feelings were the worst, I decided as I watched her walk away.

Mine was keeping me here in this ridiculously uncomfortable chair as I debated whether or not to go see how Tommy was for myself. I had no right to be here and yet, as the minutes ticked by, I knew the only thing that would allow me to go home would be to see him. If I got it over with, I’d be able to go get some sleep so I could focus on my son in the morning.

Stiff from sitting so long, I got to my feet and arched my back, trying to loosen up.

Just a quick glance, I told myself.

I’d be okay once I saw him.

Yeah, right.

The angel on my shoulder was rolling her eyes while the devil on the other side was rubbing her hands together gleefully.

There was a very good chance I was losing my mind, but I headed for Tommy’s room anyway. The door had been left open, probably by Wynter, and I glanced around to see who might be available to toss me out.

The corridor seemed clear, and I quickly but quietly stepped into the doorway.

There he was.

Lying on that hospital bed made him look bigger than usual, his lanky frame bulked up by bandages, pillows, and blankets. He was normally a light sleeper, but the IV in his arm told me he was probably on pain killers.

His dirty blond hair was tousled, sticking up a little on top, and yesterday’s five o’clock shadow had quickly moved into the category of a short beard. The hair on his face grew quickly, and I was reminded of the million times I’d shaved him. It had been a sensual, intimate thing for us, often leading to lovemaking if we weren’t on a schedule. And I loved doing it. He’d sit on the stool I usually used when putting on my makeup or doing my hair, and he’d palm my ass or stroke my midsection while I shaved his face. Staring down into his mesmerizing blue eyes, it was often hard to concentrate, hard to do anything but lose myself in him.

Back when my husband had been my world.

God, I missed those days.

“Don’t just stand there,” he said, making me jump. “You might as well come in.”

“I…” My voice trailed guiltily. I hadn’t meant to disturb him. “I just wanted to…make sure you were okay.”

“Wynter could have told you that.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Then come in and take a good look.” His eyes were still closed, and his voice was slightly groggy.

“Do you need anything?” I asked politely.

He snorted. “You feel like sucking my dick?”

For some reason, I flushed. I should have been used to his crudeness, but we’d been apart for more than three years, so it seemed dirty somehow, even though I normally loved it.

“That’s not…nice.” I wasn’t sure why I was having such a hard time talking to him.

“You were expecting nice?” He opened his eyes a little and squinted in my direction.

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” I snapped, losing my patience. “We were together a long time. Just because we’re not married anymore doesn’t mean I want you to be hurt or sick or in a hospital! Jesus, Tommy, give the animosity a rest.”

He sighed, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “I know. Thanks for coming by. But I’m okay. They tell me the knee will take a bit to fully heal but the burns are mostly superficial.”

“I’m glad.”

Fuck.

Why was this awkward?

Maybe because I’d let him fuck my brains out in a cemetery twenty-four hours ago?

“You should have stopped me,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Last night. Why didn’t you stop me? Wynter said I left bruises.”

My cheeks burned, embarrassed that Wynter had said something to him.

Despite our circumstances, our sex life should have been private.

“It’s not different than any other time.”

“The difference is that we’re not married anymore.”

“You know my limits.”

“Apparently, I don’t. I never left bruises before.”

My hand unconsciously went to the bruised wrist. “It’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

I hesitated. “What? Why?”

“Let me see, dammit!”

I approached the bed gingerly, uncertain about getting close to him. Not because he might grab me, but more because he probably wouldn’t.

How fucked up was that? That I still craved not just his touch, but his roughness, his dominance.

When he reached out his hand, I hesitated again before finally putting my hand in his.

“God dammit, Harley.” His voice was harsh. “Why would you let me do this?” Gentle fingers trailed my skin. “Why didn’t you say I was hurting you?”

“I get off on pain sometimes. You know that.” I couldn’t articulate how much I liked it when he was rough with me.

“Do you let other guys hurt you like this?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s none of your business!”

“Someone could hurt you for real.”

“Oh, but it’s okay when you do it?” I shot back.

“No! It’s not. That’s the whole fucking point.”

“It never stopped you before!”

“I never left marks other than hickeys before!”

We glared at each other.

“This was a mistake,” I muttered. “I have to go.”

He released my hand. “Well, that’s what you do, right? As soon as things get uncomfortable, you walk away.”

“Is that what—” I abruptly cut myself off. I couldn’t do this now and certainly not here.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t be in here. Visiting hours were over a long time ago.” A stern voice spoke behind us, and I yanked my hand away from him.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, turning to see if it was someone I knew. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“My ex-wife,” Tommy supplied. “Coming to see if that eighteen-wheeler finished me off for her.”

“Tommy!” I gave him a dirty look.

He gave me a quirky grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “As you can see, I’m still ticking, so you’re going to have to work harder to take me out.”

“He’s being an ass,” I murmured to the nurse.

She smiled as if she understood. “Well, then it’s probably a good time for you to go.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Tommy, who was watching me with an inscrutable look on his face.

“See ya!” he called after me.

Asshole.

For some reason, his easy dismissal broke my heart, and I held back the tears until I got on the elevator.

Then they exploded in the torrent of emotion I’d been holding back ever since Presley had texted me about his accident.

I hated the smug bastard so much.

But I still loved him.

And it still hurt as much as it had the day I’d left him.