Page 5 of If Cain Were Able

The thing is hideous.

For the first time since arriving, I’m actually embarrassed to face Cain, even though this needed to be done, and it was his blade that left this mark.

“Everything looks good. We’ll keep an eye on the incision to make sure it heals up nicely, but I don’t see anything to indicate that you’re prone to infection, so hopefully it’ll be an easy road. I’m just finishing up rounds for the night, but our team is on call, so if there are any emergencies, the nurses will notify us immediately. Try to get some rest.”

Getting rest is next to impossible unless they knock me out. Breathing hurts, and I’m not allowed to roll onto my side, so my ass is sore from having to stay on my back. Coughing and sneezing are both definitely out of the question, and I can’t put any weight on my right arm, so trying to adjust my position is a bitch.

I give up around ten p.m. and turn the TV on when my door opens, and someone steps inside.

I assume it’s another nurse because, bless their hearts, they make their rounds every hour and ask their questions—another reason I can’t actually rest.

But as he lifts his gaze to mine, Cain’s familiar dark eyes greet me.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr. Rosemont?”

My tone is one hundred percent sarcastic, but one corner of his mouth twitches at my use of his formal title.

He likes that.

I try to pretend that knowledge doesn’t excite me, but the fucking heart monitor I’m hooked to gives me away.

Cain’s eyes fly to the damn thing, and his grin widens.

“It’s the scrubs, isn’t it?” His joke intensifies the pain in my chest, and I wince. “Oh, come on, that was funny.”

I stare at him blankly. There’s nothing I can do about the rising heart rate, but I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction of knowing he still gets to me.

Except, fuck, all I ever wanted was to be with him, belong to him, and I can’t believe we’re in the same room right now after all these years.

He moves closer and stands by the edge of my bed. With one hand braced on the collapsible rail, he brings his other hand to my gown, where I’d retied it after Garrett’s visit. Cain pulls on one of the strings, untying the bow, and the monitor begins steadily climbing, the peaks of my heartbeats getting higher and closer together.

“You’re really determined to test my handiwork, aren’t you?” Cain says with a smirk I wasn’t sure he was able to pull off anymore.

“I’d argue that’s your fault,” I reply, dying on the inside.

His fingers graze my flesh as he pulls the gown open, first on one side, then the other.

The machine might as well be sending him a direct email letting him know that he still gets under my skin. Thank God there seems to be enough medication in my system that at least I’m not sporting an erection.

“It’s been a while,” Cain says, catching me off guard. “I’m shocked you still respond to me like this.”

“Are you?” I deadpan. I won’t feed into his ego. Not anymore.

Cain and I were never gentle lovers; the spark between us was greedy, demanding, all-consuming, and hellbent on destroying us both, which is why I had to walk away…and even that almost killed me. Continuing my arrangement with Cain would have meant being at his beck and call. Nights alone when I needed him, and times of being summoned when I wanted to be alone. I’ve never been able to tell him no, and that wasn’t sustainable, no matter how much I wanted it to be.

He simply shrugs a shoulder in response, making me huff a short laugh, but I wince immediately.

“Ow, fuck.”

Cain messes with the buttons on my bed railing, and suddenly, the bed begins reclining.

“I don’t want to lie flat, it hurts worse,” I protest.

“Relax,” Cain growls. “I’m not making it flat. You’re sitting too upright, and your heart is having to work harder. If you can’t keep your heart rate under control, then I’m going to lock your bed settings.”

“Well, stop fucking touching me, and I’ll be fine!”

He holds his hands in the air, but now I’m pissed, and my heart rate begins climbing again.