Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Balto turned his stare on me. “You saved him, Catalina. You could have walked out of there or pulled the trigger yourself—but you didn’t.”
“I know, but still…”
“Heath doesn’t hold it against you…and I don’t either.”
“Really?” I whispered. “I expected you to hate me…” I pulled the foil off the top of the pan so the steam would rise from the melted cheese.
“No. You were there when it mattered.”
I still couldn’t look at him, too emotional to meet the gaze of someone I loved. Balto was the image of Heath when he was healthy, so it was hard to look at him, to see how Heath should look right now.
Balto came to my side and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving me an affectionate squeeze, a gentle embrace. Then he released me and turned away.
Heath came down the hallway, walking slower than usual, in his sweatpants and a t-shirt, wearing clothes to hide his injuries from me. “I thought I heard an asshole in my house.”
Balto turned around and faced his brother. “You must be feeling better.”
He took his time walking to the kitchen, his eyes on me instead of his brother. But when he came close to Balto, he directed his gaze to him.
I turned away because it was the first time I’d seen him get out of the bed and move freely, able to carry himself without being crippled by pain. I stared at the lasagna, slicing it into squares just so I had something to do to keep my face straight.
“Thanks for everything, especially the drugs. That shit does wonders.”
“Yeah, I’ve been there.” His brother clapped him on the back lightly. “I’m glad to see you on your feet again…even though your face still looks like an inflated balloon. I’m surprised Catalina has stuck around when you aren’t so pretty anymore.”
“That was never why she stuck around.” He waggled his eyebrows before he walked over to me. “What’s for dinner, baby?” He was right beside me, so he could easily see what I made, but he seemed to talk to me on purpose, to get my mind out of the dark place it’d fallen.
“Lasagna.”
His arm moved around my waist, and he pressed a kiss to my temple. “Smells good.” He turned to his brother. “You want to stay for dinner? There’s just enough for the three of us.”
“Just enough?” I asked incredulously.
“You forget how much grown men eat.” Heath grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water from the refrigerator.
“Cassini already has dinner in the oven. I just came by to drop off a few things.” Balto leaned against the counter and stared at his brother.
Heath turned around, mimicking his posture against the other counter.
Did they want to talk in private?
Balto crossed his arms over his chest. “Everything at the Underground is fine.”
“You fooled them?” He drank from his glass, only drinking water because his usual booze was off-limits.
Balto nodded.
“Wow. I’m not sure if that’s complimentary or insulting…”
“How do they not spot the difference?” I shoveled the food onto plates then added the salad. “Balto doesn’t have tattoos.”
“I only wear long sleeves,” Balto answered. “Good thing it’s cold outside.”
“I think I’ll be ready to get back in a couple weeks,” Heath said. “I just—”
“A couple weeks?” I asked incredulously. “Try a couple months.” I carried the plates to the table. “And sit down.” I pulled out the chair. “You shouldn’t be standing so much. You should only be resting.”
Heath turned back to his brother. “Bossy, huh?”
“Cassini is bossy too.”
“I guess we have the same type.” He held up his glass before he walked to the chair and lowered himself onto the cushion.
“I can handle things for as long as you need.” Balto came to his chair and placed his hand on his shoulder. “No rush.”
Heath shook his head. “I know you hate every second of it. Cassini too.”
Balto dropped his hand. “Yes. But it’s temporary. And it’s for you.” He looked at me and nodded in goodbye before he left.
I sat across from Heath at the table. It was the first time we’d sat together for a meal since he’d been hurt because he’d had all his meals in bed.
With his elbows on the table, he got right down to business, slicing into the pasta and shoveling it into his mouth. “Damn, this is good.”
I watched him eat, taking few bites because I wasn’t very hungry. Our relationship felt the way it used to, like I hadn’t done something terrible to him, and that left me on edge…because I didn’t deserve this.
He lifted his gaze and looked at me, his cheeks still bruised, his eye sockets still purple. He had a couple cuts around his mouth, cuts from my brother’s knuckles. The stubble on his jawline wasn’t thick enough to hide the damage. “What is it, baby?”