“I haven’t forgotten,” I lied.
“Good. Because I’m hearing things, Dante. I’m hearing you’re getting soft. Playing dress-up, making friends with the locals, and now throwing yourself in front of livestock like some kind of hero.” He paused, and I could practically see him pouring another glass of whiskey. “The ranch better be showing results soon, or this whole Montana experiment is over. You understand me?”
“I understand.”
“And Dante? Stop being stupid. You’re worth more to this family alive than dead protecting some piece of ass.”
The line went dead before I could respond.
I let the phone drop onto the bed beside me, staring up at the sterile white ceiling tiles. My father’s words echoed in my head, mixing with the dull throb of pain radiating from my ribs. Three fractures. The doctor had said I was lucky it wasn’t worse, that the impact could’ve punctured a lung or caused internal bleeding.
I didn’t feel lucky. I felt like an idiot. But I also didn’t regret what I’d done.
The door opened, and Nick stepped back in, his eyes immediately finding mine. He looked exhausted, his hairmessed up from running his hands through it, dirt still on his jeans from where he’d hit the ground. But he was here.Alive. And that mattered more than whatever lecture my father wanted to give me.
“Everything okay?” he asked, moving closer to the bed.
“Fine. Just my father checking in.” I shifted slightly, trying to find a position that didn’t make my ribs scream. “You know how it is.”
Nick’s jaw tightened. He knew exactly how it was. Overstepping fathers who made decisions that affected everyone around them. We had that in common, at least.
“You should go home,” I said, even though the thought of him leaving made something in my chest constrict that had nothing to do with fractured bones. “Get some rest. Angelo can drive you back to the ranch.”
“I’m not leaving.”
The words were simple, matter-of-fact, but they hit me harder than that heifer had. I studied his face, looking for some sign that he was just being polite, that he felt obligated because of our arrangement. But all I saw was genuine concern etched into the lines around his eyes.
“Nick, I’m fine. The doctor said?—”
“The doctor said you have three broken ribs and need to rest for at least six weeks.” He crossed his arms, wincing slightly at the movement. His own shoulder was probably killing him. “Which means you can’t be alone. Someone needs to make sure you don’t do something stupid.”
“More stupid than getting between you and an angry cow?”
A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “Yeah. More stupid than that.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him I didn’t need a babysitter, that I’d been taking care of myself just fine for twenty-nine years. But the truth was, I liked having him here. I liked the way he’dheld my hand in the ambulance, the way he’d stayed close during every examination, the way he looked at me now like I was something more than just the man who’d used him to take his family’s ranch.
“They’re keeping me overnight for observation,” I said. “You really don’t have to?—”
“I know I don’t have to.” He moved closer, pulling the chair up beside my bed and dropping into it with a tired sigh. “But I’m staying anyway. So stop trying to get rid of me.”
I studied him in the harsh hospital lighting. There was dirt smudged on his cheek, his shirt was torn at the shoulder, and he looked completely out of place in this sterile environment. But he was here. For me.
“Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
“Why what?”
“Why are you staying? A few weeks ago, you could barely stand to be in the same room as me. You made it pretty clear you hated my guts.” I paused, watching his expression carefully. “What changed?”
Nick was quiet for a long moment, his green eyes fixed on his hands clasped in his lap. When he finally looked up, there was something raw in his gaze that made my breath catch despite the pain.
“You took a hit for me,” he said simply. “Nobody’s ever done that for me before.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept going, the words spilling out like he’d been holding them back too long.
“My whole life, I’ve been the one protecting everyone else. Heather, my parents, the ranch. I put myself between them and every problem that came along.” His voice was rough, tired. “And then you show up, this... this mobster from New Jersey who I’m supposed to hate, who took everything from me, and you...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to dothat. You could’ve let that cow hit me. Would’ve made your life easier, probably.”
“That’s not?—”
