That stupid fucking curiosity gets the better of me once more, because I suddenly look down at my own arm and find a bullet-sized wound embedded into my upper arm. I look at Rayne’s arm, kind of like a matching wound, and I grow a little dizzy.
It’s the only thing I can attribute to the production of the next words that spill out of my mouth. “Huh. Look at that. We match now. Twins.”
Rayne actually laughs. It’s a horrified, shaky laugh, but I’m calling it a solid fucking win. Especially when he leans down and kisses me harshly against my forehead, right before the dizziness gets the better of me and all lights go out in Maddie Town.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Maddie
The first thing I notice the moment my subconscious floats to the realm of reality is that my arm really fucking hurts. Like, not a little, but a whole lot.
The second? I’m not dead. Because if I were dead, there wouldn’t be a horrible throbbing pain pulsing in my arm that drags me farther and farther away from the dreamland I’d been cozily tucked in.
Despite my annoyance, being alive seems like something that should be celebrated, so I don’t cling to my irritation as much as I would if the cute dream I’d been having was more of a sexy little fantasy of my guys, something I’ve had a time or two. The Sandman and I would have some solid beef if that were the case.
The third thing that floats through my awareness is a Baxter-sized body sprawled beside me in the cloud of comfort that is my bed, looking like a demigod of the wind and sea but without the wild mane of hair. His strands are loosely tied in a messy bun, his bearded face peering down at his cell phone as he sits quietly beside me.
Man, he’s handsome.
I shuffle awkwardly and, the second I move, his head snaps up just as his face morphs into one of pure relief that nearly renders me stupid. With a gentle drawl, he says, “There she is.”
My throat feels drier than Mom’s homemade cake when I croak, “Did I die?”
Baxter chokes on a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes close with the look of a man trying to find the patience to dealwith his dumbass girlfriend. It makes my lips twitch, even as he rolls his head against the bed frame before looking down at me. “No, Sunshine. You didn’t die.”
“Well, shit,” I murmur. “I was convinced I saw the light for a second there.”
“You fainted,” the burly man covered in sexy tattoos says, those same tattoos only covered by a tight long-sleeved Henley shirt and lounge shorts that show off those wicked thighs when they ride up a little.
It’s not enough to distract me from the memories that suddenly slam into me with all the force of a well-timed wrecking ball. Crazy Toby. Baxter tackling him to the ground. Gunshot. Blood. Rayne tackling me.
Rayne.
My stomach twists into a sickening knot and I bolt upright, shoving myself into a sitting position way too fast for my lagging brain. “Rayne? Is he—”
“Shh, it’s okay,” Bax coos, hands landing carefully against my waist with a touch that sends comfort all through me. “He’s fine, Sunshine. Totally fine. Minor flesh wound on his arm, but that’s it. I think you scared him more than the cut on his arm.”
“So he’s okay?” I press, willing my sudden rapid heartbeat to calm the hell down before I pass out again.
Bax nods quickly, reassuring me with a smile.
I narrow my eyes on him. “Okay-okay, or man-okay?”
That’s when he pauses, pulling a face of contemplation that tells me he’s being picky about his words. I glare, and he eventually sighs before confessing, “Man-okay. But not from the cut on his arm. You scared the shit out of all of us, Mads.”
The exhale that leaves my body makes my lungs ache, and I fall against the bed with my usual dramatic flair. Only this time, that flair comes with a raging pulse of pain, and I whimperloudly before peering down at my arm, wrapped snugly in a white bandage.
That’s when I remember the bullet wound I spied just before my brain checked out of the Real Life Hotel.
Swallowing hard, I turn to face Bax before quietly asking, “What the hell happened?”
Bax shakes his head slightly, reaching out to brush my hair from my face, and I swoon at the soft action. Hey, I’m not dead, remember? My body reacts just as well now as it did before I was shot. Sue me.
“Toby was arrested at the scene. Well, after he woke up from the nap I put him in,” he answers, scratching his hand through my hair. “There were enough witnesses and enough video evidence to send him down for assault with a firearm, attempted murder, and a whole other string of offenses. He’s done, Sunshine. It’s all over.”
Even as relief washes over me, there isn’t an ounce of victory that comes with Baxter’s words. Instead, I just feel tired, my shoulders a little lighter but no less burdened with the Toby-sized exhaustion that has plagued me for months on end.
“And Rayne? He’s really okay?” I push, desperate for the confirmation.
