“Do you know who did this?” A sharp edge laced hisquestion.
I shook my head slowly, I didn’t want to admit it to myself, much less a damn stranger that my husband was the culprit. “They’re called accidents for a reason, Bear. Ask me somethingelse.”
“Like what?” His grip on my handtightened.
“Anything. I don’t care. Just distract me.” My voice was weakening as I fought a wave ofpain.
“How old areyou?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“What’s your favoritedessert?”
I smiled thinking about my brother’s apple pie then licked my lips before answering, “Homemade apple pie with vanilla bean ice cream melting ontop.”
“Damn that sounds delicious.” I could hear the smile on hisface.
“You haven’t lived until you’ve tried my brother’s apple pie. It’s like angels kiss your taste buds after every damnbite.
“That sounds like an experience and ahalf.”
I nodded. “Don’t stop asking me things.” My head rolled to the side as my eyes opened into little slits. I slowly took in Bear’s features as he continued to rattle off question after question. His dark brown eyes had a black ring around the irises and when he smiled, they smiled too. He had worry lines on his forehead and deep crow’s feet around his eyes. His full beard had flecks of red and the slightest wisps of silver. I could tell the years had not been kind to him, and that he was about ten years my senior. There was something so captivating about the low timbre of his voice and the depth of hisgaze.
“What’s your favoritesport?”
“Baseball, but only in person. I hate watching it on TV. I need to feel the energy of the crowd and smell the fresh-cutgrass.”
A light tap echoed in the small room. A nurse walked in, her sneakers squeaking with every step she took. “How are you feeling, Mrs. Keen?” she asked, gripping my chart in herhands.
I tried to keep my eyes open but the pain forced me to slam them shut. “Ooooohhhhhhh!” I exclaimed as I gripped Bear’s handtighter.
“That bad, huh? You must be thehusband.”
I heard words catching in Bear’s throat as he tried to figure out what to tellher.
“Yes, he is,” I spit out before he could say otherwise. There was no way I wanted Jasper to be considered my husband. In less than twenty-four hours, Bear had been kinder to me and shown me more compassion than Jasper had in our entirerelationship.
The nurse rattled off a bunch of things to Bear about my condition in such a rapid succession that I couldn’t follow her in the slightest. To me, she was an adult and I was a damn Peanut’scharacter.
She squeaked her way out of the room and I felt Bear’s lips brush the back of my hand. “As much as I hate to leave your side, wifey”—he laughed a little during a lingering pause—“I really need to take a shower, get a few hours of sleep, and make sure my guys aren’t fuckin’ up too terribly at theshop.”
I groaned, grabbing for his hand as he started to get up from his chair. “Do you have to? I really don’t want you to leave.” I already felt the stinging of loneliness biting at myheart.
“I’m afraid so, darlin’. I’ll be back to check on you tonight.” He folded the business card into my hand before kissing the backs of my fingers. “My cell number is on there. You can call me at any time and I can be here within ten minutes if you needme.”
Chapter 5
Bear
“What’ll it be, handsome?”I heard the bartender ask a few seconds after I took a seat at the empty end of thebar.
I didn’t look up at her while answering, “Double whiskey,neat.”
“Comin’ rightup.”
The glass was set down on a black napkin in front of me. I didn’t want to drink it. I didn’t want anything. I had gone to the shop, taken care of what I had to, signed the orders, and dealt with payroll, all while ignoring the awkwardness of my guys avoiding talking to me about Abel. They all knew I would address it when I could, knew the subject had to be avoided for the time being—it was a lingering dark cloud that wouldn’t go away until I made it and I just wasn’t strong enough yet. It felt so wrong to sweep it under the rug, even if it was onlytemporary.
Sleep wasn’t an option, so after a shower, I found myself bellying up to a bar. It was a reflex, a terrible coping mechanism that had been ingrained in me since I was sixteen and my old man turned me to the bottle when my mother ran out on us because she couldn’t handle being an old lady anymore. I couldn’t blame her. I never thought it was fair to the women who ended up sticking around. The constant worry and uncertainty was something no lady should ever have to be put through. I knew from a very early age that I was going to have to make a choice—either wear a cut or wear a ring. There was no way to truly split your heart and devotion evenly to make it fair toboth.
