“How about some new claws?”
Excited, I nod at the same time Blair pumps his fist in the air and launches himself from the couch with a “Fuck yes!”
I startlewhen I feel a body slip into bed behind me but instantly relax when Creed’s familiar sweet, citrusy scent envelops me, and I press my back deeper into his front. His hand settles on my hip, but I take it into my own and trace the intricate patterns and shapes that trail down to the tips of his fingers with my free hand. It’s dark in the room, but the light of the moon accentuates the contrast of his tanned skin against the black ink of his tattoos. We lay this way in comfortable silence for a while before I can’t stand not seeing his face any longer.
Rolling over, careful not to pull or bend my IV, I make it to my back before I’m worn out and stop there. At least now I can see his face. He looks a little better than earlier, and I know that it has everything to do with seeing Riley. Creed has always been a caretaker; that personality trait has only intensified with age.
“How is he?”I manage to whisper—my voice a bit more stable—as I look up at Creed, who’s still on his side, head propped under his arm and pale, moonlit eyes trained on me.
He traces the bridge of my nose, cheeks, and chin before trailing along my jawline with the backs of his fingers. He picks up one of my braids, his thumb softly stroking the entwined hair almost reverently as he figures how to answer my question.
“He’s…stable,” he sighs. “They’ve still got him sedated so that his body can work to fight off the infection, but Dr. Munn said they’ll start to wean him off to wake him up soon if he continues to improve.”
I nod, but silent sobs rack my body with the memory of the pain I felt when his life was fading right before me and how helpless I was to stop it. Creed just holds me, his warm hands firm against my back as he cradles me against his body.
“I almost lost him, Creed,” I whisper, my chin trembling so hard that I struggle to get the words out. “Too many times I was forced to watch him fade, terrified that it would truly be the last time that I would ever see him. That they would take him from me before I got to tell him that I–”My words break off on a silent hiccup, I try to compose myself, but it’s no use. “I have to tell him. To tell you–”
Creed cuts me off with a finger to my lips as he pulls back to look at me again. “Don’t. Don’t say it here. Whatever you want to tell us, I want you to keep it a secret just a little longer, when I can get you both back home with me. Then you can say what you want to say as many times as your beautiful heart desires and I’ll be right there, eating up every fucking word with our boy between us, yeah?”
I want so badly to argue, because I’ve loved this man for far longer than he could possibly ever realize, and I don’t want to let another moment go by that he doesn’t know exactly how I feel about him. How I feel about Riley. I’m fairly certain that they are aware, but knowing is not the same as hearing the words spoken. The need to just blurt the words aloud sits right on the tip of my tongue, but I bite them back with a nod because I get it.
“Creed?” I ask while delicately tracing the intricate, swirling pattern on his neck, slowly lulling myself to sleep.
“Yes, Stardust?”
“Will you take me to see him tomorrow?”
Creed’s body stiffens momentarily before relaxing again. “I’ll take you to see him.”
Well, that sounds like a fucking noncommittal answer if I ever heard one, considering he didn’t tack on or acknowledge the ‘tomorrow’part. I know I should be thanking my lucky fucking stars that Creed and Asher found us when they did, and that I’m safe in Creed’s arms again, but he’s not the sole keeper of my heart anymore. He proudly shares that role with Riley, and it feels like I’m missing an integral part of myself by being separated from him. So I fucking dare anyone to keep me from seeing Ri. Including Creed.
“Creed?”
“Stardust?”he mocks playfully.
“Will you sing to me?”
I feel him smile into my hair, placing a kiss to the top of my head before he shifts me in his arms–refusing to let me go–before he starts to hum a tune. Creed’s voice floods my senses, the deep, smoky timbre vibrating my cheek where it rests against his chest. I don’t make it past the first verse before sleep consumes me.
Chapter 11
Creed
“I’LL SHOW YOU A FUCKING MASTERPIECE.”
TWO DAYS LATER
Collins is fucking pissed at me. I hate to admit it, but it’s kind of cute. The reason why is far from it, but I can’t help but adore her little pout as she glares daggers at me from across the room. She put me in a literal timeout after the shit I pulled yesterday, and truth be told, I deserve it. I’m just glad she didn’t kick me out of the room altogether. I’d rather be in her presence while she’s spitting mad than to spend another second away from her.
I’m currently on her shit list because I lied to her the other night. She asked me to take her to see Riley, and I told her I would. I was just an asshole and didn’t specifywhen.It wasn’t with malicious intent, though, I swear it.
Riley was in isolation to keep the transfer of bacteria to a minimum, so he was only allowed medical staff and one guest in his room, and that was me. I even had to wear this ugly, disposable gown thing, complete with gloves, shoe covers, and a mask. Not to mention, he was barely recognizable between the swelling, bruising, bandages, and tubes connected to him. I didn’t want to send Collins into a panic or cause her to spiral atthe sight of him, so I hadn’t even considered sneaking her into the room. I tried to avoid the topic as best I could when she would ask about seeing him. She knew I was avoiding taking her over there, and she was not happy about it.
Therapy had come in to assess her yesterday, and after they’d cleared her to get up and move around, speech came in and worked with her. She was cleared for a soft diet, so now she gets all the pudding, jello, and ice cream her sweet tooth desires until the soreness in her throat eases a little more.
The truth is, I’m worried about Collins. Apart from when she first woke up, her demeanor has been a bit unnerving. She behaves as if she wasn’t held captive by a psychopath and tortured for two weeks. She’s had breakdowns, but she bounces back from them like nothing happened, andthatis the part that fucking scares me.
I caught Dr. Munn as he was leaving Riley’s room and asked him if I should be concerned. He’d just told me that trauma patients can be known to compartmentalize and “lock away”memories, that it’s their brain’s way of protecting their being. He’d just advised me to not push the subject of what happened and to live in the moment with her.
