“Yeah, he came back to the clubhouse and warded off any infection with gallons of booze,” Mamba adds.
“See, and you think I’m bad,” Nick defends.
I shake my head at their antics. “Yeah, guys, really not helping.”
Mamba inspects all the machines behind Nick’s bed. “They sure do have you hooked up to a lot of shit.”
“That’s what happens when you take a blade to the gut.” Nick laughs around his words, then winces.
“Doc said most of it’s gonna be disconnected later since my vitals are so good.” Nick grins at me. “Another reason I can come home.”
Python points to his IV. “Hope they got you hooked up to the good stuff, brother.”
“Let’s just say it takes the edge off.”
I point toward the door. “I’m going to go check with the nurse. See if they heard from your doctor.”
I head down the long corridor, and my mind spins with what Nick was about to say before the Serpents showed up. His face and voice sounded so serious. Too serious. Even though his attitude yesterday was so different, we’ve had so much friction between us the last few weeks. My mind automatically heads to a dark place, especially with what I have to tell him.
I know he’d never tell me what went on out in the desert with Graham Pierce, but I’ve been around long enough to put the pieces together. The last time we separated was to keep me away from that life, and although he seemed excited to be home for Portia, what if he wants a break after the holidays?
What if living together isn’t working for him? We’d never actually lived together, and everybody knows living day-to-day is hard.
What if he only wants a relationship with Portia and not me?
Damn what-ifs.
20
NICK
After three calls to my doctor, and some friendly persuasion, they finally released me from the hospital on Christmas Day. Cheryl made Portia wait until I got home to open her presents.
I shift on the couch, trying to find a comfortable spot.
“Maybe you should sit in the chair instead of the couch,” Cheryl suggests.
“I’m fine, babe, stop fussing.” I look at Portia. “We made this poor kid wait long enough to open her presents.”
“It wouldn’t have been any fun if you weren’t here anyway.” Portia beams at me, her ebony eyes shining bright and happy. A happiness I intend on seeing over and over again.
Her glow is contagious, and I love watching her as she rips through mountains of wrapping paper. She appreciates everything, but her favorite gift is the deluxe art set which includes pastels, brushes, charcoal, colored pencils and watercolors.
“This is the best,” Portia squeals in true ten-year-old fashion. She hugs her mother, then turns to me.
I hold out my arms to her, and she gently nestles into my good side. “This is the best Christmas ever.”
“It sure is, baby girl; it sure is.”
“I want to work on something up in my room.” She bounces off the couch, then gathers up her art set and dashes out of the room.
The kid has a natural talent that even her fifth-grade teacher sees. Cheryl has her enrolled in art classes outside of school, and some of the stuff she brings home is amazing for her age.
I smile at Cheryl. “Our little girl is amazing.” I shift again on the couch, wince, and of course she notices.
“I know you’re in pain.”
“That’s ‘cause you won’t let me have a shot of Jack.”
