The doctor chuckles.“If he’s gentle, yes.”
Dex shoots me a smug look. I roll my eyes, but my pulse kicks. I’ll be able to pull Summer against me with both arms again. Soon.
The doctor finishes writing notes.“You’re on track. Don’t rush it.”
“I won’t,” I say, even though part of me wants to run straight out of here and straight into Summer’s arms.
Once we’re outside the room, Dex stretches dramatically, likehe’sthe one finally free.“Finally. I thought that sling was becoming part of your body.”
“Trust me,” I mutter.“I felt the same.”
Dex presses the elevator button with his knuckle, then glances at me, expression softening beneath all the bravado.“You good?”
His real voice.
The one without armor.
“Yeah,” I say quietly.“Better than good.”
The doors open. Instead of stepping out, Dex jerks his chin toward the ICU wing.“Wanna check on Asher?”
My chest tightens. Asher woke up last night… after days in that damn coma.
“Yeah,” I say.“Let’s go.”
We make our way down the hall, the air colder here, sharper. The beeping of machines echoes off the tile. Dex walks beside me, hands stuffed in his pockets, but I see the tick in his jaw. The emotion he won’t let out.
When we reach Asher’s door, I grab the handle, exhale, and push it open.
“Hey, man,” I whisper.
He’s awake, sitting slightly elevated, pale but alert. The heavy cast on his leg looks brutal up close. He gives us a tired half-smile.
“Well, look who’s alive,” Dex says, trying for cocky but cracking just enough around the edges that Asher sees right through him.
“Barely,” Asher mutters, voice gravelly.“Leg feels like it got hit by a damn tractor.”
Dex snorts.“Close enough.”
I step closer to the bed.“How’d the operation go? They said it was a long one.”
Asher sighs, eyes flicking down to the cast.“They put the rod in. Screws too. Doc says I’ll walk again, but it’s gonna be a long recovery.” He shifts, wincing.“Starting physic once the swelling goes down.”
“And when do they think you’ll get out?” I ask, bracing as if the answer might crack something in my chest.
Asher shrugs, then grimaces.“Probably the day before Christmas, if everything stays clean and there’s no infection. I’m counting the minutes.”
Dex’s jaw flexes. He looks away like the ceiling tiles suddenly became fascinating. But his voice, when it comes, is rougher.“Good. We’re not starting Christmas without you.”
Asher huffs a laugh, tired but real.“Please. You’d better not. I’m dragging my ass over with crutches if I have to.”
“You won’t have to,” I say softly.
For a moment, the three of us fall quiet, standing together in the thin, sterile light.
Asher’s eyes shift between us.“You two look like crap, by the way.”
Dex smirks.“Yeah, well… look who’s talking.”
