Colt doesn’t even blink. He lifts the blankets, adjusting things with a quiet kind of tenderness that cracks something in my chest.
With his help, I turn fully, finally facing him, really facing him.
And just like that, I feel a little more okay.
“What’s happening in that head of yours?” Colt asks as he tucks some hair behind my ear.
“I’m a terrible friend. I can’t believe I spoke to Anna that way, and yet I still don’t want to see her. I’m completely fucked in the head.”
“Baby, you know what you and swearing do to me,” he says, slightly moving his hips toward me and making a joke of it, which makes me giggle. “You’re not a bad friend. You’re trying to cope, and any triggers are hurtful. And Anna, even though she doesn’t mean to be, sheisa trigger. But I know that with some time, you’ll be fine. I know you will. And Anna, well, she is Anna. She’s going to understand completely and be there for you when you’re ready to see her. Because that’s what friends do,” Colt says, and I nod in understanding.
“I just wish I had handled it better, you know? I wish I weren’t so damn weak all the time.”
“You’re not weak, Dee, far from it. You’re one of the strongest women I know. You helped me recover from being consumed by my drug addiction, and you helped me get back to being the man I’m supposed to be. You fought like hell to stay alive when, by all rights, you should be gone. So don’t say you’re not strong, baby, ’cause you’re stronger than you know. And I love you for it.”
I inhale slowly, taking in everything he’s said. It’s true. I did have to be the strong one when Colt was recovering. Watching and helping him through those first few hours of detox was the hardest time of my life. Watching someone you love suffer is the worst kind of torture.
I start to think about Colt and what he’s been through watching me in here. Watching me flat-line three times in front of him. That must have been terrible for him. It takes me backto when he overdosed, and I thought he was dead. That was the single worst moment of my life. Surely, we can get past something like this if we can both fight our way back from the brink of death.
I lift my hand to his cheek, tracing the edge of his stubble. He smiles, leaning in and kissing me—softly, slowly, as if the world has finally stopped spinning for a moment. I close my eyes, letting the warmth of his lips wash over me, and for a fleeting second, everything feels blissful.
Until a quiet throat-clearing shatters the moment.
Colt pulls back and glances over his shoulder, and I follow his gaze to find the doctor standing in the doorway, smiling politely.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a light chuckle. “But I come bearing good news.”
Colt rolls over, sitting up beside me and lacing his fingers through mine. “Okay, shoot,” he says, glancing down at me with a look that makes my chest flutter.
“Well,” the doctor begins, stepping farther into the room. “Your recent test results are great, and your recovery is going better than expected. If you feel ready, I’m happy to discharge you tomorrow.”
My heart leaps, and I beam, barely holding in a squeal. Colt grins, letting my excitement speak for both of us.
“Yeah, I think I’m ready,” I say quickly. “But… will I be okay to fly home? Or do I need to stay here in the States until my leg’s healed?”
“You should be fine to travel,” he replies with a reassuring nod. “As long as you follow the post-operative care instructions we’ll provide. I’ve also prepared a few brochures… one for managing your menopause symptoms and another outlining options for your frozen eggs and the next steps in fertility. There’s also a referral to a psychiatrist in London. She’s a colleague of mine and specializes in post-trauma care forpatients who’ve been through similar experiences. I think she could be a great support if you’re open to it.” He pauses. “Any questions?”
I shake my head and turn to Colt, who mirrors the gesture.
“Great,” the doctor says. “Then I’ll leave you to it. We’ll finalize everything tomorrow morning. Start making arrangements for your flight, and remember, it’s most important to take it easy. No strenuous activity, and be sure to check in with your local hospital for follow-ups. The cast can likely come off in about three weeks.”
“When can we… you know… be together again. Inthatway,” I ask, embarrassed by my question, not actually wanting to say the words.
Colt laughs and shakes his head while the doctor smiles.
“You should be able to have intercourse within a couple of weeks. Normally, six to eight weeks from the surgery, but I don’t want you to push yourself, Dee. You’ve had major surgery, and sex will always be there. Try not to rush into anything before your body can handle it,” the doctor explains and looks at Colt, who nods.
Urgh, great!
Now I bet Colt will withhold from me until I’m completely healed. And I bet that when we finally make love, it will be just that,making love, none of the rough dominant sex I love and crave so much from Colt.
“Thanks, Doc,” Colt says, still holding my hand as he looks down at me with that warm, loving gaze that melts my heart.
“Not a problem. If you have any other questions or concerns, just let the nurses know. I’ll make sure to answer anything before you’re discharged tomorrow,” the doctor adds before quietly exiting the room.
The second the door closes, Colt looks down at me with a smirk that makes my stomach flip.
I already know what’s on his mind because it’s on mine, too.
