“Yes, I promise,” he soothed. “I don’t want you to worry about anything except getting better and coming home to me. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered as she clung fiercely to him.
He closed his eyes, his heart suddenly free of the horrible weight it had borne since the day before when he’d had to tell his princess that he couldn’t attend her recital.
30
Hayley came sluggishly awake and rolled very carefully from her uninjured side to her back, cringing when her stiff back protested strenuously. Her wound was healing quite nicely and the surgeon had told her how fortunate she was that the bullet must have deflected off some other object before becoming embedded in her lower abdomen. As a result, it hadn’t penetrated deep enough to cause any injury to her internal organs, and most important it hadn’t jeopardized her future chances of having a child.
The main source of her discomfort stemmed from the fact that she could only lie or sleep on her uninjured side and she was well accustomed to a very random, haphazard sleeping style that resulted in her sleeping on both sides in turn, her back and her belly. And since being released from the hospital a week ago, Silas had been strict in not allowing her up for any length of time, which meant she spent most of her time either on the couch or in bed lying on the same side.
Lucky for her, Silas had gotten up before her this morning and had yet to come check on her and carry her—yes, carry her—into the living room, where she typically ate breakfast with him. This morning she was going to propel her own self into the bathroom and bypass themortification of Silas’s daily trip with her to perform her bodily functions. She wouldn’t push attempting to bathe on her own yet, because no doubt, he would hear the water and come running and then she’d receive a stern lecture and she’d be returned to bed, and if she had to spend another minute lying in an uncomfortable position she was going to scream her head off.
Getting up was surprisingly easy once the muscles in her back ceased their bitching and moaning. She stood cautiously, her hand on the mattress just in case she wasn’t as balanced as she thought she was. She trudged toward the bathroom and smelled the scent of frying bacon. For some reason, her temporary upswing in mood after getting out of bed on her own came to a crashing halt as she was assaulted by a rush of memories from over a week ago.
Her heart ached fiercely and swelled in her chest, causing an uncomfortable tightening. Sweat broke out on her forehead as she recalled in vivid memory the shooting. Zander covered in blood. The agony of waiting to know if he’d live or die, and then the discovery of her own bullet wound, completely overlooked by her and everyone else in the ensuing chaos.
Tears burned the edges of her eyes. It wasn’t that the memory was new or unexpected, but it mostly haunted her sleep, when she dreamed of that horrible night. Every single night since her release from the hospital she’d awakened in terror, her skin hot and clammy, and Silas’s arms around her, his lips pressed to her hair as he rocked and soothed her through the horror of her nightmares.
She hadn’t even been allowed to visit Zander yet because Silas was adamant that she take things easy and make a full recovery, and he also wanted her to remain completely out of sight. It was thought that the intended targets had been Justice, Maddox and Zander and her association was still unknown. She would live under constant threat were it known for certain she had anything to do with Silas or his extendedfamily. A family steeped in danger and violence. She wasn’t ignorant of the kind of “business” Silas and the rest were in and even with Silas once admitting, when questioned about whether they hurt people, that they only hurt those who deserved it, Hayley had lived in a bubble of denial, never having been exposed to any element of their profession.
All she knew was that because of her a man was in a hospital bed with at least three bullet wounds, all because he’d been tasked with the job of protecting her. And that wasn’t something she could live with. Especially if Silas discovered who had shot her and Zander and retaliated. She would not be the cause of anyone else being so seriously hurt, or God forbid, killed. Nor would she ever allow anyone to use her to get to Silas. He’d had enough pain in his life. She refused to be the source of even more.
It was a decision she’d made while lying in the hospital, watching the guilt, exhaustion and desperation on the faces of Silas and his men. But she had yet to share it with Silas and she knew it was wrong of her to drag it out, basically using him as a crutch until she recovered, only to walk away afterward. Time was of the essence and before things resorted to violence again, she needed to be gone.
She had to fight back the tears as she finished her business in the bathroom and then slowly trudged into the kitchen to find Silas, her heart silently shattering the entire way.
Silas was at the stove preparing the breakfast he intended to serve to Hayley in bed when he felt a prickle of awareness at his nape. He sensed, not heard, her presence behind him, and he swiftly whirled to see her standing a short distance away, dressed only in one of his button-up shirts that dwarfed her much smaller frame.
The dullness in her eyes bothered him. Though she was rapidly healing—physically—she hadn’t shown any signs of her former sunny disposition in all the time she’d been home from the hospital. And though she was here every single day and wrapped in his arms everynight, he was frustrated by the sensation of her retreating from him and slowly slipping away. Only the fear he’d felt the night of her shooting was sharper than his current fear.
He couldn’t put his finger on why, but he had a very bad feeling, and his gut never steered him wrong.
“You shouldn’t be out of bed, princess,” he gently reprimanded. “I was bringing you breakfast in bed this morning. You haven’t been resting very well and I thought it better if you slept in today. Maybe take a nap right after you eat. You haven’t been eating enough either. You need to get all your strength back.”
She took a few slow steps toward the bar, her lips quivering softly as her wounded eyes searched his.
“How is Zander?” she asked quietly.
He went to her, no longer able to stand the distance between them. He carefully enfolded her in his embrace and she buried her face in his chest. He stroked her hair, trying to give her as much comfort as he could, and he rushed to reassure her of Zander’s recovery.
“He’s just fine, princess. He’s back to his usual grumpy self, bitching and yelling at everyone in sight, demanding to know when he can go home, because in his words, he’s fucking fine and a few pussy-ass bullets aren’t enough to keep him down.”
He said it in exaggerated fashion in a light and teasing manner, hoping to make her laugh or at least cause her some relief. Instead she shook silently in his arms and he felt the warmth of her tears against his neck.
Silently cursing, he held on to her, not saying anything more, just holding her as tightly as he could without causing her pain. But she didn’t wince or flinch. He’d noticed that as of several days ago, the only discomfort she seemed to suffer was from the stiff and sore muscles in her back, unused to sleeping in only one position.
When she finally drew away, her eyes were puffy and swollen andshe ducked her head, refusing to meet his gaze. She pushed slightly away from him and he reluctantly let her go, a sense of helplessness gripping him. She seemed to have fallen into a deep depression, and it showed no signs of lifting no matter how often he gave her good news regarding Zander. She gave little thought or notice to her own injury. Her only concern through it all had been for Zander.
She took a position on the other side of the bar, almost as if purposely putting a barrier between them. He turned back to the stove so she wouldn’t see his deep frown. Or the deep grooves of worry on his forehead.
He dished up the last of the bacon and then seasoned the eggs and took the biscuits from the oven.
“Silas?”
He turned back to Hayley at her hesitant, uncertain-sounding call. He studied her, not liking the dark shadows that seemed much more prevalent in her eyes this morning. Suddenly he dreaded responding, not wanting her to say whatever was weighing so heavily on her.
“Yes, princess?” he finally managed to get out.
