Page 81 of Forbidden Eyes
He smiles faintly and nods again, as if that’s answer enough. It should be because there isn’t any other answer. None that I know of anyway. Who knows what I would have been without them?
Dead, probably.
He looks over to the door, sighing. “You know why I came to find you all those years ago?” he says, still musing at the doorway.
“From our conversations, I've assumed guilt.”
“Fuck that. I don’t own guilt in any way, Carter. You should know that by now, but Emily does. She made me come find you.” She did? I didn’t know that. I look on, intrigued. “Decent women do that. She made me question myself, made me do things that were out of character.” I smile at that, knowing it’s probably true. “Still does. That’s the thing about love, it gives you a new perspective. Without her, I wouldn’t have given a damn about you.”
Nice.
“I’ll thank her next time I see her.”
He chuckles and drinks some more coffee, looking back at me. “You should. I have done enough through the years. Trouble is, someone I consider a son has just brought a fuck load of crap to my door because of his actions.”
My brow arches at his choice of word—son. It doesn't stop me internally wincing at the directness of the statement, though, because there it is, out loud and unavoidable.
Vico and Cane trouble.
“My sister is on her way. Furious. And my niece is out there waiting for you because she probably thinks she’s in love. Maybe she is, but either way, she’s scared and lost. I need to know if you’re gonna make that better or worse before I make decisions.”
“What decisions?”
“The kind I don’t want to make until you’ve spent some time with her and told me how you really feel about her. I know you, Carter. There’s not a fucking chance you would have brought this to our door unless you didn’t have a choice.” He stands up and puts his cup on the side. “But I’m not doing anything until you admit it yourself or tell me I’m wrong.”
My mouth opens to argue, to tell him I’ll leave and then he’ll be able to smooth things over somehow, because he shouldn’t be thinking like that. He should be getting me gone and protecting his family, Fia, and Hope if she’s coming, too. Vico will bring all hell down on Cane if he feels like he’s losing them both.
“Keep your mouth closed until we’re home and you’ve had a few days to recover,” he says, dismissing my protest before it even starts. “We’ll be ready to leave in a few hours. The cops were easy enough to handle. We just need you fit enough to travel now. Until then, you can talk to her. Work it out.” He dumps his jacket in a bin and walks over to the door, opening it. “See if you can find some warmth in that heart of yours. I’ll send her in now.”
“But I’m not ready to see her yet,” I manage to stutter.
“Men like us never are, Carter.”
And then he’s gone.
Fuck.
The sound of someone else’s footfalls come so quick in the hall outside I barely get a chance to pull a blanket across me, certainly not allowing me to calm down enough for her, but it’s a nurse who comes in first. She fucks around with machines, and then takes my pulse and checks over my paperwork.
“You’re doing well, Mr Wade,” she says, opening my eye and shining a torch into it.
Am I, fuck? I’m suddenly not doing well at all. I’m staring at the door, not knowing what to say when she walks in. I don’t even know what I want to say, or if I want to say anything in the first place. “Two fractured ribs and a hairline fracture to the nose, but your blood work and glucose are both in good order now. We should also talk about your dietary schedule and—”
“Get out,” I grumble, animosity heavy in my words. I’m not interested in anything but what I’m thinking about right now, which is all screwed up with Fia and Vico, and what the hell that all means going forward from here. I glare at her as she backs away from me, a frown on her face because of my attitude. I couldn’t care less. “Out.”
“Mr Wade, I—” My temper rises, chasing the hell out of calm.
“I said, get, the fuck—”
“Carter?”
My head swings at the sound of Fia's voice cutting through my tirade, my mouth not able to finish the sentence I was aiming for. She hovers there in the corner of the room, eyes flicking between me and the nurse. “I can come back if you’re not ready for visitors. It’s just Uncle Quinn said…” she trails off, bringing her eyes back to mine.
Fuck, she looks good. Messy. Real. She should climb up on this bed and help me recover. Naked. With her lips around my dick and…
“I thought that maybe we should…” Again, she leaves the sentence hanging, like she has no words for the situation we’re in. The bastard in me doesn’t help her out either, and it takes the nurse to walk in between us mumbling a disgusted ”you’re welcome to him”, as she picks up my tray of vomit, to make me realise I’m acting like a grade A dick.
I break eye contact with her and look at the bed rather than acknowledge that fact, listening to the nurse continuing to mutter something as she leaves. Fia giggles. Don’t know what at, or fucking care. Jesus. I’m a mess. Again.