Keane releases a string of very vocal curse words when he looks down at my left hand and sees where Alejandro broke my finger.
I meet the green eyes of my Reaper. “Jax, my knife. Keep it safe for me,” I tell him, my vision wavering. “Rita is dead. He killed her.”
“Good,” Keane growls. “Saves me a bullet.”
“When is the doctor getting here?” someone shouts.
“Pearson, can you handle things for now?” Declan implores.
“Out,” a thick Russian accent says, and I assume the person speaking is the mysterious Pearson I haven’t met yet.
“Not fucking happening,” four angry male voices say at the same time, and for some bizarre reason I want to laugh because it’s the first time that Keane, Jax, and Liam have all agreed on anything.
But it’s the fourth voice that catches me by surprise. The one I thought I may never hear again.
The mattress dips and Rafe whispers, “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”
I burst into tears, so freaking happy that he’s here and alive. And so fucking sad that he’s absolutely wrong.
Because what he just said is a lie. It’s not going to be okay.
My senses awaken with the smell of spice and sandalwood, and I open my eyes to see gorgeous blue ones watching me. I know better than to try and move, knowing that if I do, the killer migraine I’m sporting will only intensify. My head is nestled into the soft goose down pillow, the silk pillowcase smooth against my swollen cheek where Alejandro punched me. Rafe is facing me, his head resting on the same pillow as mine, my right hand and his left one joined together and lying between us.
“Hey,” he whispers.
“Hey,” I whisper back.
Somehow, I’m dressed in clean clothes, all remnants of the blood now gone from my hands and arms. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail. Someone must have cleaned me up and dressed me when I was out cold. Whoever it was, deserves a huge thank you.
I let go of Rafe’s hand to reach up and stroke his face. The short, dark beard he’s grown since the last time I saw him looks really good. I trace my thumb over his cheek and chin and back again.
“I like this.” My fingertips play with his short stubble.
Rafe winces when he moves closer to touch our foreheads together, and I’m immediately concerned because he’s still recovering from his injury.
“Do you need anything? Are you in pain?” I ask him. He should be in his own bed, taking it easy, but I’m selfish and will refuse to let him leave if he tries to go.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
My heart soars with his small grin.
“Where is everybody?”
Instead of answering, Rafe cups my face, his thumb touching my sore lip. “Andie, I’m so sorry. I tried so hard to protect you from my family, but—”
I stop him immediately by covering his mouth with my hand. When he ceases trying to talk, I remove it and replace my hand with my lips, kissing him softly. He sighs, and the tension in his body relaxes before he takes over and kisses me deeper. I ignore the sting on my cut lip and live in the moment with him.
“No apologies. Ever. You don’t control what your brother or father do,” I tell him, then smile when I remember something. There is so little right now to smile about.
“What?” he asks, confused at what I’m finding humorous about the current topic of conversation.
“Just a promise I made myself,” I reply, but don’t go into any detail about the promise to lock us into a room and fuck his brains out the next time I saw him. We’re both not in any condition to pursue that little fantasy. I also need to tell him what happened between me, Keane, Jax, and Liam. It wouldn’t be fair to assume he would be on board with me sleeping with all three men. However, as much as I want him and still love him, I’m also in love withthem. The reality of that hits me like a fucking sledgehammer because it shouldn’t be possible. And yet, it is.
“By the way, you’ve earned my trust back,” I tell him and almost giggle when he sends me the most boyish, lopsided smile I’ve ever seen. This is the Rafe I fell for when I was a teenager.
“I want to take you out on a date,” he blurts, the sentiment completely out of the blue.
“You do?”
