Page 113 of Other Woman Drama


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You are going down, McCready.

Way down.

Possibly six feet if I had any say about it.

Twenty-Six

So the burglar broke into my house. I put the red dot on his chest and the cat did the rest.

—Webber to Copper

WEBBER

The incessant beeping was driving me fucking insane.

Even worse, there was constant sniffling at my side that had me wanting to scream at whomever it was to get a goddamn tissue.

But when I opened my eyes, all of the anger subsided when I saw the two heads of hair lying next to each of my thighs.

Blonde and black.

Eedie and Silver.

What the hell were they doing here?

Even worse, why the hell was I in the hospital?

When I shifted my eyes, it was to find Chevy standing at the edge of my bed reading my chart.

Some sort of change in my breathing must’ve tipped him off that I was awake, because he looked up then hooked my chart to the edge of my bed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Pretty damn fine.

“Just fine,” I admitted. “Why?”

“Because you suffered a punctured lung. From someone stabbing you,” he said. “After you suffered a mild concussion from a car accident. You’re pretty banged up and bruised, and I hate to tell you this, but your new bike is totaled.”

Goddammit.

“Saved your cookie, though.” He pointed to the tray table.

There wasn’t much cookie left, and I had a feeling one of the ladies at my sides were responsible.

I smirked. “Doesn’t look like there’s much left.”

“Can’t say that I blame them for eating their feelings. They just went through flights from hell. Barely got here when you got out of surgery about two hours ago. You just woke up, though. They’re exhausted.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Not really sure, to be honest,” he admitted. “You never showed up, so we backtracked your steps, and Apollo was able to track your bike to that field. There was a car on top of the bike, too.”

“Who’d the car belong to?” I asked.

He winced. “Your favorite coffee connoisseur.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”