Thirty-one
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn’t staring at stars or even a bright light. It was a ceiling, a white drop ceiling with a soft, dim light fixture. The rest was shadowy and as my gaze tracked to the opposite wall, I saw a pale blue curtain. My thoughts were slushy and I felt funny, like I was floating, but I knew I was in a hospital. There was a dull sensation of something in my right hand and as my gaze slowly trekked to where it rested on the bed, I could see an IV.
Definitely a hospital.
Oh yeah, that was right, I’d been shot. Actually shot with a gun. Seriously.
God, my luck sucked.
I started to sit up, but the dull ache turned sharper, piercing across my belly, and the air punched out of my lungs at the suddenness of it. The walls spun like a bad acid trip.
Movement from the left of my bed stirred the air around me and a gentle hand landed on my shoulder. I blinked the room back into focus as my head was guided back against the surprising stack of pillows.
“Awake for a couple of seconds and you’re already trying to sit up.”
The heart monitor registered the sudden increase in my heart rate as I turned my head to the left. My beat skipped unsteadily.
Jax was sitting in a chair next to the bed and he looked . . . he looked like crap. Dark smudges bloomed under eyes that were normally the color of warm whiskey. The shadow of stubble along his jaw was thicker than normal.
But he smiled when my eyes met his and he said in a gruff voice that was thick, “There you are.”
“I took your shirt.”
His brows furrowed together. “What?”
I don’t know why I said that. I could tell there were some really sweet drugs rolling through my system right now. So I was going to blame them. “I took your shirt when I left your house, because I wanted a part of you if you decided you didn’t want to see me anymore.”
He straightened in his chair and his lips parted as he stared at me.
“I feel funny,” I admitted. “I think I’ve been shot.”
His expression tensed. “You were shot, honey. In the stomach.”
I wetted my dry lips. “That sounds bad.” I knew that could be bad, come to think of it. We had, like, an entire week or something dedicated to gunshot wounds in one of my classes.
“You were actually lucky. The doctor said the bullet missed all major vital organs. Clean in and out,” he explained, voice low. “There was some internal bleeding.”
“Oh. That’s definitely bad.”
He tilted his head to the side and closed his eyes. “Yeah, hon, that’s bad.”
Jax sounded so worried, so . . . I don’t know, out of it, that I felt the need to reassure him. “It doesn’t really hurt.”
“I know,” he murmured. “They said they were giving you pain meds. I . . . damnit. Calla.” He leaned forward, getting so close to my face with his that I caught the faint scent of cologne. “Oh, honey . . .” He shook his head and the darkness in his eyes bordered on a tortured intensity. He placed his hand on my left cheek and I felt the tremor that coursed through it. “I know you probably have questions, but there’s something I gotta say, okay?”
“Okay.”
“When you woke up yesterday and I was gone, it wasn’t what you thought.”
The last twenty-four hours started to replay in my head, coming together like a slow-moving picture book.
Yesterday had sucked ass.
“I had to go downtown for a fitting for the wedding and I had to leave early. I should’ve left a note, but I was still pissed-off about that night before. I left thinking you’d be there when I got back and we’d talk, but Roxy called me.”
I frowned up at him. “She . . . she called you?”
“Yeah.” His gaze moved over my face and then down, and I swore he was watching my chest move, as if he was reassuring himself that I was breathing. “She called me on the way to your house, because she was worried about your safety. I knew you left, and yeah, I was angry about that. I thought we were on the same page.” He coughed out a dry, harsh laugh. “I’d called Reece, letting them know you were at your house. They had a car on you.”
I hadn’t even noticed that. Granted I wasn’t the most observant person apparently; so maybe I should rethink that career in nursing.
His thumb smoothed over my jaw as his gaze settled on mine again. “I spent all day yesterday mad at you, at us, at myself.”
Well, these were things I really didn’t want to hear right now, but I sensed that whatever he needed to say, he had to get it out of him, so I remained quiet as I watched him.
A muscle twitched at the corner of his eye. “All day,” he said, shaking his head again. “A whole fucking day wasted on stupid shit and I should know better. I tasted that kind of regret, you know, with my sister. Spending so much time being angry with Jena that when she was gone, I couldn’t even begin to tally up all those missed hours I could’ve spent being there for her.”
“Jax,” I whispered, my heart squeezing.
He rested his weight on his other arm, careful not to disturb the bed or me, though I wasn’t sure how much I’d feel at this point. “The point is, I was angry, but it didn’t change how I felt about you or what I want from you. I’m not perfect. Far from it, and I was just being a dick. I could’ve called you and made sure you understood that. I could’ve returned your text. I didn’t. I thought maybe we both needed some space to cool down so that when we did talk, we could do so. And last night, when I went to the club, Aimee showed up.”
Now I remembered that, too, and that sick feeling rose, more muted than before, and for that I was grateful.
“That pissed me off even more. I left. She followed me outside. We had it out in the middle of a fucking parking lot. And I swear, even the messiest breakup with someone I was in an actual relationship with was easier than talking to her. She won’t be a problem anymore, but damnit, it was more wasted time. After that, I went back to my place. I planned on coming back to the bar to get you before closing. I didn’t think you were going to leave early, but I was coming for you. I just never made it.”
When he spoke next, the hoarseness to his voice, the very real pain in it, got to me. “I was getting ready to leave. I had my keys in my fucking hand, Calla. I was almost out the door. I was thinking about texting you and my phone rang. It was Colton. I almost didn’t answer, because I knew they still could be partying and I wasn’t in the mood for the shit, but I did answer. And he told me that he’d just been called by one of the deputies, that there had been a shooting at the bar and someone was injured. That was all he knew, and fuck, babe, my heart . . . it did what it did when I got the call from my parents. It was a sick as fuck feeling, like I wasn’t standing but I was. I tried calling you and when you didn’t answer, I knew—I just knew, because if there had been a shooting at the bar, you would’ve answered the phone if you could.”
“I’m okay,” I whispered fervently, because I thought he needed to hear that, but it went largely ignored.
“When I got to the bar I saw your car shot the fuck up and you weren’t there. Neither was Roxy . . .” He seemed to gather himself as his hand shook against my cheek. “It was Nick who told me it was you. He’d been outside. Got to me before the police did. All he knew was that you’d been shot and that you hadn’t been awake when the paramedics arrived. Calla, I . . . I can’t even put into words what I felt in that moment or what I felt getting my ass to this hospital. All I knew was that I fucked up yesterday.” His chest rose with a deep breath. “I could’ve lost you. Fuck, I could’ve really lost you. And if I didn’t get this chance to be talking to you right now and if you were taken from me and I lost the opportunity to spend yesterday with you, being with you, loving you, I’d never forgive myself for that. So you know what, Calla, I’m going to forgo any bullshit right now. And I hope you’re with me on this, but even if you aren’t, I gotta get it out there and I’m not going to regret saying this to you.”
I was starting to breathe heavy, not in a taxing way, but I knew something was coming, and my throat was burning and not because it was dry. So were my eyes. They felt wet, because two words really stood out among all the powerful words he spoke. Loving you.
“I gotta tell you that I love you, Calla,” he said, and I was surprised the heart monitor didn’t catch the fact it felt like my heart had stopped for a moment. “No bullshit. I do. I love the way you think, even if it’s annoying as fuck at times and even then it’s still cute. I love that there’s a shit ton of things you’ve never gotten to experience and that you’re going to get to experience them with me. That I have that honor. I love your strength and everything you’ve survived. I love your courage and I love that you make shit drinks, but no one cares, because you’re so damn nice.”