Patting the area on my right side, I give her a smile. “Comeup here before someone comes in and tries to tell you you’re not allowed.”
For a second, I think she’s going to argue with me. She looks over my injured leg, but ends up carefully crawling close, curling against my uninjured side with her head tucked against my shoulder.
“I give today zero stars.” She smooths her hand over my chest, the softness of her touch soothing in a way pain meds could never be. “Worst day ever.”
“It’s not the worst day ever.” I can think of hundreds that were ten times more miserable than this. “But it could’ve probably been a little better.”
Brooke’s quiet for a minute, then her head shifts so she can look at my face. “I was so scared I lost you.”
“Brooklyn Marie, I did not survive almost ten years without you just to die the minute I get you back.” I chuckle. “That really would be ridiculous.”
Brooke doesn’t look amused at my joke about her calling me ridiculous. Her expression remains serious as her eyes move over my face. “It made me think.”
I want to pull her closer, but I’m stuck in the position I’m in, so I have to settle for running my hand over what I can reach. Her arm. Her face. Her hair. “About what?”
“About you. About me.” She shifts around a little. “About us.”
My chest gets tight. I know Brooke was hesitant to start something with me, but I thought we were past that. I thought she and I were finally on the same page. “Did you come up with anything interesting?” I try to sound teasing, but the fear she’s pulling back again makes it impossible.
She gives me a little nod, her head rocking against thepillow we’re both laying on. “I did.” She lifts her hand, resting it on my chest. “I decided you should marry me.”
I laugh, because it would be so like Brooke to tease me. But Brooke’s expression is still serious. Serious enough I start to wonder if I hallucinated showing her the engagement ring I bought.
“Didn’t you ask me to propose to you?” Am I losing my mind? Did I hit my head harder than I thought?
“Yeah, but I got tired of waiting.” She pats my chest. “So I decided to beat you to it.” Her eyes move pointedly to where she’s touching my sternum.
That’s when I see it’s not her hand resting against my body, but a box that looks a lot like the one in my dresser drawer, holding a diamond solitaire.
I watch as Brooke flips the top open and pulls out the band inside. It’s gold with a ring of silver circling the center. Set within that different colored portion are a collection of diamonds, spaced apart perfectly as they span the circumference. The whole thing is smooth, with no nooks or crannies to collect dirt or grime.
“You designed this, didn’t you?” I reach up, taking the jewelry, sliding my thumb against the shining surface.
“I wanted you to have something you could wear when you worked without worrying.” Her eyes move from where I hold the ring to my face as her lower lip pinches between her teeth. “Do you like it, or is it too much?”
“I love it.” I put it on my finger, because there’s no way I’m not wearing it from this point on. I lift my hand, the tangible site of Brooke’s commitment to us making me forget about everything else. “Does this mean I can give you your ring while we’re?—”
“He’s right in here.” My nurse steps into the room.
Followed by a fucking parade.
First in line is Walker. The lines around his eyes seem more pronounced as he looks me over, body visibly relaxing as he takes me in. “You look a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
“I feel a lot better than the last time you saw me.” And the reason for that is the woman currently trying to scramble away from me.
I’m not letting her.
Banding my arm tighter around Brooke, I lift my hand, proud as fuck. “Look at this.”
My mother’s right behind Walker—followed by my dad, Trevor, and Tucker—and she scoffs the second she sees what’s on my finger. “What is it with you kids and your inability to be patient?” She comes to my bedside, taking my hand to look over the ring before giving Brooke a smile. “It’s beautiful.” She purses her lips at me. “Does this mean I need to cancel the string quartet?”
Brooke’s brows lift. “String quartet?”
“Forget you heard that.” I press one hand over her ear as I answer my mother. “No, but I think we might have to push it back a bit.”
Her eyes go to my leg. “I’ll see what I can do.”
35
