I looked over, and Trav was half off the bed. His arm was out of the sling, but the drain that was attached to his arm was tangled in it.
“Jesus, Travis,” Linc swore and raced over to him.
Jacques was a second behind, rushing to his side. They helped him into the bed again, and I eased his arm back into the sling.
“Can I hug you?” I asked.
“Get over here,” he said, lifting his good arm to make room for me.
I darted around the bed and crawled onto it, trying to be as gentle as possible. When I was settled, he said, “I love you too, darlin’.”
“Me too. I love you too,” Linc said. He stood behind me, one hand on my hip, shoulder to shoulder with Jacques, who was playing with my hair.
“Do you really want this?” I asked. “Me?”
A chorus of “Yes” and “We do” rang out.
I closed my eyes and squeezed Trav tighter. “So do I.”
Everything I ever dreamed of was right there in front of me. My men, our home, a baby, and our pup. I couldn’t believe that I’d nearly thrown it away because I was too scared to tell them. I’d tried to hide it from them, thinking I was protecting them, but I was wrong. And I’d never been happier to be.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” I whispered. “I thought I had to do it alone. Thank you for proving me wrong.”
Jacques leaned down and kissed me. “Thank you for giving us the chance.”
thirty-one
Travis
Iwascomfortablelyingonthe sofa. It was starting to cool down some, and the fan overhead was just right. I was floaty, too, the pain pills starting to kick in. The docs had put two plates and a few screws in my arm to secure both bones in my forearm, and it fucking hurt.
My head was on Carina’s lap, my face pressed against her belly, and I had my arm propped up on a pillow. She was reading the draft of Cara’s novel—I hadn’t even realized she was an author—and I was drifting, slowly falling asleep.
I still couldn’t believe the accident. We’d responded to another warehouse fire on the same block as one we’d attended only a month or two ago. It was a freak accident. One minute I was standing on a mezzanine, hosing down flames on the ground level, and the next I was on my side a floor below. The whole platform had given out. My arm landed on a metal bar, and a piece of the support beam landed on my hand, snapping my bone straight through. Apart from being winded—and my bone sticking out of my arm—I’d been fine. Lucky, incredibly grateful to be here, and annoyed that I couldn’t help put out the fire anymore.
Then I realized I had no way of contacting Jacques, Rusty, and Carina. I’d begged the captain to get Chief Cabello to call them. He had, but I’d forgotten I’d put Rusty down as my emergency contact. With the stress of the last few days, just hearing that I’d been in an accident had sent Rusty into a full-blown panic attack. I hated that I was responsible for it.
He was doing okay now—still clingy, but I think that was more about the shock of what had happened rather than his panic attack. He was still in a good mood, though. Every opportunity he had, he teased me about joining Whiskey Riders as their new drummer. I’d had no idea what he or the others were talking about until they explained that in my anesthetic-induced haze, I’d decided to become a drummer.
I hadn’t even remembered the conversation with Carina about her being pregnant until the nurse woke me, wanting to check my vitals.
“This is a hospital for goodness’ sake,” she muttered, and I blinked open my eyes.
She was hovering with a stethoscope around her neck and my chart in her hand. She raised her brow at me, unimpressed, then flicked her gaze to Carina. “Not a hotel.”
I tightened my grip around her shoulders. She was in my arms, and I wasn’t letting her go. Not after the shitstorm that had descended on us in the past few days.
“Shh, please,” Jacques responded. “Let her sleep.”
“I need to check my patient’s vitals, including his blood pressure. How am I supposed to do that when his uninjured arm is being used as a pillow?”
“She’s only just fallen asleep,” Jacques explained. “She’s had a rough few days, and she needs sleep.”
“Your friend here has just had an operation,” she quipped back.
“She’s pregnant, okay? I’m worried about how hard Travis’s accident hit her.”
Pregnant? Seriously?I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was a squeak.
