The asshole already recorded me at the hospital five days ago. Posted the video in the group chat—my hospital gown wide open in the back, my whole ass out. Everyone lost their minds. Reed and Blackwell got into it over who rewatched it.
Connor found out and threatened to murder everyone.
I stand and make my way to bed. Maybe I’ll take a nap. But I shift wrong trying to lay down, and a sharp spike of pain shoots through my deltoid.
Fucking hell.
A few minutes later, the door opens and Connor walks in . . . wearing one of his game jerseys.
I quirk a brow. “Uh, something happen?”
“No.”
Yeah, can’t remember the last time he gave me a single-word answer. “I’d cross my arms over my chest if I could, but . . . you know.”
He walks to his bed, shaking his head.
Maybe I’ve played up the injury on occasion to get what I want. Why shouldn’t I use it to get a blowjob when my husband is being overly fucking cautious with me.
I might be down one arm, but I still have another. And two legs.
“You get caught up on your work?”
I grunt and pull out my phone. “Yes, dad.”
A pillow hits my face a second later.
I’m about to throw it back with my good arm when Connor comes over and takes it. “Will you fucking be careful. I don’t need Larry coming here again because you get hurt.”
I laugh, remembering how my foster dad dragged Connor out of my hospital room by the ear. Both were on edge, and my husband is one giant asshole when he has big feelings. But Larry doesn’t put up with that shit.
Some nurses even applauded.
“How’d everything go with your grandfather?”
Connor sits on the edge of my bed, then tosses the pillow back to his bed. “Fucking annoying. He keeps trying to convince me to take over the company. And I keep telling him to fuck off.”
I take his hand in mine. “We can figure this out. You don’t have to—”
He smiles. “He’s not forcing me. I’m just the best option. But my cousin’s his new focus.”
I release a breath and sag against the headboard. “Good.”
“And all my father’s shares in Walsh International go to me.” His smile vanishes, jaw tightening as he lets out a breath. “How do you know Veronica Callahan?”
My brows furrow, head tilting. Is he serious?
“Ryan, it’s important. How do you twoactuallyknow each other?”
Oh.
I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t feel comfortable—”
“Ryan.”
“From the counseling center.” I pause, lifting my chin. “That’s all I’ll say, so don’t push.”
He stares at me for a second, then nods. “Understood.”
