Page 96 of No Fear

“I’m not really doing anything. I’m not sure he even wants me here anymore. He’s been in his room since we got back.” It had been over three hours and not a sound from him.

“He wants you there. If he didn't, you wouldn't be there,” Mackie said, giving her some reassurance. “I’ll see you in about half hour. Stop worrying. We got this.”

“OK. See you soon.”

Charlie got up and slid open the balcony door to find Donnie in the middle of the room.

“Donnie? Are you OK?”

She frowned. He was staring straight at her, not that he would know that. He was still wearing the jeans he had worn this morning, but he had removed his T-shirt. Unable to help herself, she let her gaze roam over his body. Damn, he was fit. All hard muscle and defined lines. His skin smooth but for the scars, with a couple of small tattoos. She’d seen them in Toronto but had been a bit too distracted to really study them. One was on his right pec and another on his upper left arm. She was tempted to step closer to get a better look, but before she could, Donnie spoke.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Who were you talking to?”

“Oh, Mackie called.”

Donnie nodded but stayed quiet.

“How’s the headache?” she asked, tearing her gaze away to close the balcony door.

“Fine.”

Mmm, so not in a chatty mood then. Well, she wasn't about to be defeated.

“Great. How about a drink and we can sit on the balcony. It’s beautiful out.” She moved to the kitchen to get them both some water. “Come on, let’s go outside.”

“No.”

Charlie walked back to him with two bottles of water. “Yes. You heard Sophie this morning. You need to relax. Sun helps with that. I’ll get your sunglasses. Where are they?”

Donnie let out a terse breath. “Should be in my bedroom on the dresser.”

As soon as she stepped into Donnie’s bedroom, she stopped, staring at the rumpled bed. His T-shirt strewn across one pillow. It seemed oddly intimate to be here in his personal space. The room smelled of Donnie. It was simple, masculine, with plain white walls, a black duvet. The only splashes of color were the pictures on the wall. Some kind of abstract patterns in bright colors. For a brief moment, she wondered how many women had been in this room. How many Donnie had slept with in that bed. Shaking her head, she grabbed his T-shirt and the sunglasses from the dresser.

Donnie hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing, but he was rolling his head, stretching out his neck. The muscles in his back flexed and Charlie’s thighs tensed. Jesus. “Here.” She placed his T-shirt in his hand. “You should put that on.” Because she couldn't focus properly with all that naked flesh.

He took the T-shirt and fumbled to find the bottom. Charlie resisted helping. After a couple of attempts, he had the T-shirt on.

“Come on. Let's go outside.” She took his hand and guided him out onto the balcony to the lounge chair where she had been sitting before and handed him his shades.

“What did Mackie want?” Donnie asked, opening his water.

“He mentioned that he was going to come by shortly.”

Donnie said nothing.

“Does it feel any different? Being out here, in the sun.”

“It feels warm. But as for my eyes, no different.”

She studied his face. His jaw was tense, his mouth in a straight line. This foul attitude was beginning to piss her off.

“Why are you in such a bad mood? You got good news today.” She failed to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

“How is possibly losing my team good news exactly?” Donnie said. His condescending tone made her think of Simon. No. She wasn’t taking that from him.

“Jesus, Donnie, will you listen to yourself? You got blown up, could have died. You can't see right now, but you were told today you will get some if not all your sight back. Do you have any idea how many blind people would love to be given that news?”

“You don't understand!” he snapped.