Judi frowned and placed her hands on her hips. “What?”
I shook my head, leveled my gaze on hers and gave her what she wanted. “He told me he was marrying me.”
The woman who’d spent the most time taking care of him other than his mother grinned. “I told you, when he sets his mind to something, he always gets his way.”
She turned around and pulled out the griddle, frying pans, and the other cooking utensils she needed.
“What are you doing?” I looked at the clock. It registered just after noon.
“Making you both a homecoming breakfast like no other, love.”
Of course she was. Leave it to Judi to show her happiness by cooking up a batch of true love. I’d eat every damn bite, too. My stomach was already beginning to growl at the thought of a home cooked meal. I hadn’t had a real sit down meal where I didn’t pick at my plate and push the food around since Texas.
I was making myself a cup of coffee when a pair of strong, warm arms surrounded my waist.
“Mmm, you weren’t there when I woke. I don’t like that.” His tone made it clear that he wasn’t kidding around. It was odd coming from my casual, laid-back guy. More than odd.
Laughing, I leaned back against him. My temple came into contact with something rough and scratchy. “Since when?” I wanted to make light of the comment he’d made. I didn’t care for this sudden change in his personality. Before, when we’d slept in the same bed, the one who woke first would let the other rest. It was our norm. Now, things were different.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he warned, his voice harder than usual. The casual Wes he’d always been was still there but seemed to be buried under the surface of this tarnished version of his personality.
That irritation at my temple had a sharp edge that poked me. “Ouch.” I lifted a hand and my fingers grazed over the crunchy fabric.
“Fuck!” A pained grumble combined with a hiss left Wes’s mouth as his hands locked down on my hips.
I spun around and assessed the hurt. Over the side of his neck was the large white bandage I’d glimpsed before I attacked him like a sex-starved nympho. The center had a crimson splotch getting more red by the second.
“Oh my God, your gunshot. Shit! I should have been more careful.” That’s when it dawned on me that there was more of him not quite perfect. I looked at him with more of a critical eye now that the need of completing our connection had been sated.
Across Wes’s chest were several marks and bruises. Down one of his forearms were a series of what looked like burns. With shaking fingers I surveyed the wounds. “Baby…” The lump in my throat made it difficult to speak.
“I’m okay. We’re both home, and we can move on.” His voice was tight. A twinge of anger cut like a knife along each muttered word.
“But you’re not.” I leaned forward and kissed each healing wound and scar I found. The most worrisome being the neck. “Why isn’t the gunshot healed more?”
“It broke open a few days after surgery and needed to be re-stitched. Apparently, you have to stay in bed all the time in order to prevent sudden movements that would break open a wound.” He grinned and I frowned. Knowing that while he was gone, I was going bat-shit crazy. He must have been ten time worse. I can only imagine what type of patient he’d been.
Continuing my scan of his body, cataloging each of his injuries, I noted the pock marks over his left forearm now looked like angry red welts, craters with scabs over the centers. I went to put my mouth over one of them, he cupped my neck and shook his head.
“Don’t. I don’t want your perfection marred by this evil.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes black holes barely rimmed with emerald green.
Not heeding his words, I looked closely at one of the marks. He closed his eyes and locked his jaw.
“Eyes, baby.” I reminded him of my earlier need. He knew I was still raw over his abduction, and the only way we were going to get through it was if we did it together. We had to open those psychological wounds and bleed out the nasty so we could heal them.