Chapter Seventeen
Maisie
“Mais...” My eyes dart open at the sound of my name and instantly lock with Macallan’s. He’s propped up in bed, awake, looking leaps and bounds better than he did the last time our eyes met, which was right after he realized that he had been stabbed.
Only there was no fear in his gaze when it happened, only concern... Concern for me. Which I didn’t understand at the time. When I came to, I had no idea what was happening. It felt like a dream. It wasn’t until they took him back for surgery and insisted I be checked out that I realized why he was looking at me that way. That the blood soaking my shirt and face was my own.
Thankfully, the cuts weren’t too deep, and they were able to use adhesive to glue the skin back together rather than stitches. The nurse said it should help with the scarring, though a few scars are the least of my worries.
Straightening in the less-than-comfortable chair I dozed off in, I let my gaze drift over him, hesitating on hisabdomen, which is covered with a blanket, though it does nothing to keep the vision of the knife protruding from his gut from filtering back to the forefront of my mind.
“How are you feeling?” I roll my neck, trying to work out the kink from sleeping at an awkward angle.
“I’m okay. You?”
“Good,” I confirm, pushing to a stand. “Is there anything I can get for you?”
“Yes.” He pats the bed next to him, gesturing for me to move there. “Are you okay?” He takes my hand as soon as I’m within reach, pulling me onto the bed.
“I am.” I settle onto my side on the small sliver of mattress available, resting my head on his chest as my hand settles on his abdomen, careful not to touch his wound.
“I was so worried about you.” He speaks into my hair, his arm wrapping around my back as he pulls me closer.
“Me? You’re the one who got stabbed,” I needlessly remind him.
“She drugged you, Mais. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. If you’d ever wake up. It was... I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“Because you felt responsible?” I wager a guess.
“Because I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t regain consciousness.” He kisses the side of my head, his lips lingering there. “I’ve made so many mistakes with you, Maisie. So many. And the thought of never getting the chance to make up for them...”
“I’m right here,” I remind him when his breath shudders. “Thanks to you, I’m alive and well.”
“It was because of me we’re in this mess. I am no hero.”
“Lana did this. Not you. You hold no responsibility for what happened. And if I must face a hundred Lanas for loving you, then so be it.” The words no more than make itpast my lips and I realize what I essentially just said. The fact that Macallan goes tense beneath me tells me he realizes it too.
“Maisie Rose, did you just say you love me?”
I lift my head to peer up at his handsome face, the smile that resides there stealing my breath.
“And if I did?” I’ve already said it; there’s nothing left to do but commit.
“Would you believe me if I said I feel the same way?”
“No.” My abrupt answer causes him to chuckle and then in turn grimace at the pain doing so causes. “Don’t laugh.” I push myself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him. “You’re going to rip your stitches.”
“Then stop making me laugh.” He reaches up, cupping my injured cheek with his hand, his fingers brushing over the bandage. “I do, though, you know... Love you. I think a part of me always has.”
I open my mouth and then close it, no words coming to the surface.
“I wondered what it would take to render you speechless.” He grins, the indent of his dimple more defined at this angle.
“Is that your way of saying I talk a lot?” I arch a brow.
“Never.” His smile only widens.
“Uh-huh.” I roll my eyes, preparing to stand up when his hand catches mine, urging me to stay in place.
