I laughed and finished off my food before I took the plate to the sink. I washed it and laid it on the drying rack, then gave Quain a final nod and headed back up to my room. Ascending the stairs took a toll on my lungs, and by the time I arrived, my chest ached again, reminding me it was time to take more pain meds.
I opened the door and halted, taking in the sight of PD’s bare back and ass. He stood on the opposite side of the bed and stretched his arms above his head, giving me the most delicious view of the long lines of his body.
I wolf whistled as I shut the door behind me.
He turned languidly toward me and smiled, an underlying cautiousness lingering in his eyes. I understood. After how angry I’d been last night, it made sense he was wary of my reaction the next morning. I was still pissed, but after the conversation with Quain, I was also feeling pretty damned good.
“Hey.” PD ate up the distance between us and curled his arms around my waist, dragging me closer. He kissed me, and I cringed, since he had bad morning breath, but I also didn’t care because it was PD. I gave him another chaste kiss and pulled back.
“I got a job.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“You heard me.” I slapped his bare ass and it wobbled under the force. I watched, fascinated, then grinned wider. “Quain hired me.”
“To do what?” His eyebrows furrowed and he stepped back. He crossed his arms, the annoying concern flashing in his eyes. Fuck. Couldn’t he even trust me with this? A hot sensation streaked through my stomach and my lungs tightened as I took a step away.
“To paint him some artwork.”
PD’s shoulders loosened, and I gritted my teeth.
“Fuck, PD, I’m not that useless.” I scoffed.
“I never said you were.”
I waved my hand at him. “You did. Your face showed everything. You thought I was going to do something dangerous, and you were going to bitch.”
PD heaved a sigh and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want to argue, Will.”
I shrugged, ignoring the pain snaking through my heart, and this time it wasn’t because of the physical issues. “He’s gonna give me seventy-two grand to spray paint him eight pieces. Nine a pop.”
His eyes widened and he whistled. “Nice.” Then, his expression softened. He shifted in closer and laid a hand on my hip. “It’s been a while since you’ve painted.”
I tensed. Was this where he was going to ask if I needed help? Was this another thing he didn’t think I could do?
“I’m glad you’re getting back into it.” He smiled and touched his forehead to mine. “You deserve all the happiness. I’m sorry if you feel like we’re stonewalling you. We’re worried for you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t need you to be.” I didn’t have the energy to fight him, so I leaned into him, closing my eyes and inhaling his natural scent—a dash of masculine sweat and something spicier. “Let me do this on my own.”
“I’lltry.” He sighed. “But it’s hard letting you do this without my help. Even before your accident, it was me and you, not just you. Now you want independence and I don’t know how to give you up.”
I’d forgotten what my life wasbeforebecause it was nothing more than a distant memory. All my mind could focus on wasnow, what I’d become. I was allpain and a mess of grief—an unbalanced chaos that I couldn’t control. I’d spent months in the hospital, more in rehab, and I craved autonomy, normalcy, and a life without all this. I needed to bemeand not the injury that had manipulated my life. I was a puppet being forced to move in directions I didn’t want to.
It was time I found myself again. Four years of wondering what the hell I was going to do was more than enough.
I didn’t know how to explain any of that to PD in a way he’d understand. He’dtry, he would, but he’d aim to make it right. I needed him to support me, not fix me. He couldn’t turn back time.
“I’m not asking you to stop being here with me, but I do need to have control of my life again. So, I’maskingyou to treat me the way you would’ve before the accident.” I raised a hand whenhe looked like he was about to argue. “I know I’m not the same guy, but I’m also not a kid, PD. You’re myboyfriend?”
He nodded with a smile, and I grinned, too.
“Yeah, you’re myboyfriend, not my father.” I patted him on the chest. “Let me show you what I can do.”
He squinted at me in thought. “Okay. Fine. But you know you’ll need to go through King first when it comes to the club. He needs to be sure you’re ready. He’s the pres.”
“I can do that.” Though, I wasn’t sure how. King was tough, and if he was going to allow me on assignments that could end in one of my brothers—or me—killed or in prison, he’d give me tests to prove I was fit for the job.
PD cupped my face and stroked his thumb over my cheek. “I believe in you, but promise me that if you can’t, if you’re not prepared, you tell us. There’s no shame in it. You almost died. I can’t go through that again.”
