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There’s a chance, yes. As much as I want to remember the good parts of that friendship, the way things ended …
“Maybe? The last time I saw him, it was tense. But it’s been sixteen years; why would he suddenly pop up now? And honestly … I think he broke up with me.”
My husband blinks. “Now he was your boyfriend?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I had a crush on him, but y’know, he was a masked guy in my bedroom. That isn’t exactly the basis of a healthy relationship. Could you look into it, anyway? It at least eliminates a possibility.”
He nods. “Of course.”
“And please don’t tell your brothers. Xavier would never let me live it down.”
Chapter 13
Silence
Once Xavier arranges security for Monica, he leads me across the foyer and down a long, plain hallway. We don’t pass side tables or art, just an unpolished floor and dirty windows with a view of dead and dying grass. The door at the end of the hall is coated in a film of dust, the hinges creaking as he shoves his shoulder against the wood to dislodge it from the frame.
He steps inside and flicks on a light, and I follow. Most items are covered in dust sheets, and as Xavier whips them off and dust dances between us, my eyes widen with excitement. There are medical supplies, a bed, desk, and boxy computer monitor. The wall to our left is stacked with glass cabinets heavily stocked with vials, bandages, tape, syringes—everything we have at the hospital.
“This is like Christmas come early,” I breathe. “I need one of these at home.”
Xavier grunts as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Sure, you can fix Yale’s boo boos when he falls off his bike.” I flip him off over my shoulder as I open a glass cabinet. “Got anything good? I’m dying over here.”
“The pain is that bad?”
“I got stabbed, Silence.”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “Maybe I’ll stab you again before the day is over.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” I sing. Snagging everything I need, I set up a tray beside him. He removes his T-shirt, unbuttons the top of his jeans, and leans back on his hands, ink-covered abs flexing. I examine his bandage the best I can, considering his jeans are still on. My brows rise. “You did a good job.”
His demeanor softens, and he glances between me and his wound. “I did?”
“Yeah.” I smile up at him.
And fuck me.
He blushes.
It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, and I look away quickly before the urge to tease him ruins the moment.
Taking my time, I peel off the bandage and hiss through my teeth. “This is inflamed. No wonder you’re in pain. I’ll give you some morphine.”
“Lots of morphine,” he corrects.
I draw the liquid into the needle, preparing two, just in case. “Not lots. I’ll give you the right dosage depending on your weight.”
“I’m a big guy.”
“I know,” I say pointedly, and a slow grin creeps across his face. Now I’m blushing, but he isn’t as gracious as me.
“You thinking about my dick, Little Q?”
“Absolutely not.”
He laughs. “You so are. Did you like my piercings?”
