Page 51 of Nitro

I had woken up in an excellent mood, greeted by the sight of Tommy sprawled in my sheets, and my mate mark gracing his neck.

Tommy even made me a hearty breakfast. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Tommy had suggested we visit Spike before heading off to work.

I supposed I wasn't as unexpected as I initially thought. Tommy was also similarly worried about Spike.

Back in the present, Tommy gave me an encouraging smile, as if assuring me that we were doing the right thing.

I hesitated, my hand lingering on the doorknob, contemplating the decision ahead.

With a resigned sigh, I turned the knob, pushing the door open and stepping into Spike's room.

The atmosphere inside was heavy and his room was a complete mess. Spike, caught off guard by our entrance, shot us a furtive look.

"Morning, Nitro," Spike grumbled, his voice laced with annoyance.

I surveyed his disheveled appearance and the bandages covering the upper half of his body.

"You should be back in bed," I said sternly.

Spike sniffed the air, his gaze landing on Tommy, who stood nearby, holding take-out bags.

Despite his grumpy and battered state, Spike immediately brightened up when he saw my mate.

"I smell my favorite waffles and bacon from Lucille's," Spike said, his eyes lighting up as he eyed the food hungrily.

Tommy, always the enabler, only laughed and set the bags of food down on the small table next to Spike's bed.

Spike, in turn, obediently sat back in bed, eagerly awaiting his favorite meal like an impatient child on Christmas morning.

I rolled my eyes, a mixture of exasperation and affection washing over me.

How come Spike never listened to me when I gave him orders?

It was as if my authority evaporated the moment food entered the picture.

I couldn't help but shake my head at the sight of him, wounded but still too stubborn for his own good.

"Leave Nitro and marry me, Tommy," Spike said, his mouth stuffed with waffles.

I shot him a sidelong glance, ready to growl in warning and take offense, but the absurdity of the situation made me pause.

There he was, attempting a proposal with his mouth full of waffles. Was he even chewing?

"I'm more good-looking,” Spike reminded him.

Tommy, ever the good sport, continued helping Spike cut his bacon into tiny, manageable pieces.

"Too late for that," Tommy replied with a mischievous smile that set my heart ablaze.

Spike, undeterred by the rejection, quirked an eyebrow.

"Why's that?” Spike asked between bites.

Tommy glanced my way before answering. Then he lifted the collar of his shirt, revealing the mate mark proudly.

Spike's eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle. Then, in typical Spike fashion, he turned to me.

"When did that happen?" he asked, genuine surprise coloring his words.