Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
“Danny?” she says softly, a clear attempt to distract me as she slips the clean dress on with Beau’s help.
I take the cardigan from the counter and hold it open for her. “I’m fine,” I say, feeling the blood trickling down my torso as she slips her arms into the sleeves. “Will you give us a minute?” I ask, and James and Beau both leave us without a word, although I know they’ll only be on the other side of the door. Probably discussing what the fuck to do with me.
I sit Rose down and drop to my knees before her, taking my finger to her chin and lifting so she looks away from my bloody chest to my face. I say nothing, only stare into her eyes as she stares back at me, her lip still quivering. I’m so fucking angry with myself. Not only have I crushed her trust in me and how I handle her body, but I’ve also made her cut herself again. I made her feel there was no other way. We were past those black, dangerous days when we hurt each other. When we pushed each other’s boundaries. But I can’t take it back. “Never again.”
“You—”
I place my finger over her lips and shake my head. “Never.” I’m not demanding anything from her. Not compliance or surrender. Not a promise to never harm herself. “I’m telling you I will never let you down again.”
She inhales, her lip trembling more, her eyes filling with new tears. “You didn’t let me down.”
“I let you down, Rose. I let us down. By getting drunk, by losing control, by getting angry and cutting myself. I let us down.” I lean in and take her face in my palms. “Never again.” I kiss her softly and stand as I do, and she rises with me, letting me apologize some more with my mouth.
“Let me clean you up,” she says, but I shake my head, refusing her, not wanting to burden her with the further pain of seeing the mess I’ve made of myself.
“No.” I pull away and wipe her eyes, my nose wrinkling as I lick my lips.
“What?” she asks.
“You taste spicy.” I can feel the heat of the chilies. Jesus, Brad wasn’t being dramatic at all.
“It could do with a little more of a kick.”
“More?” I laugh a little and bend, placing my lips on her tummy as she weaves her fingers through my hair. “Go,” I order, rising and turning her around. “Tell James I need him.”
“Brad won’t like it.”
“Brad doesn’t know what’s gone on between us.”
“And James does?” she asks.
“Did you tell Beau?”
“Yes.”
Of course she did. And I saw James’s face. His worry for me. “Then he knows.” I walk her to the door and look outside to see where Brad is and what he’s doing because Rose is right. He won’t like being in the dark. “He’s too busy dying from eating your curry to worry about what James and I are doing.” I see him still sucking back water.
A tap on her arse sends Rose on her way with Beau, and I turn to James, feeling his eyes on me. “Don’t say a word.”
“Wasn’t going to.” He refills the bowl with fresh water and antiseptic. And there’s why James and I get on so well. I go back to the chair and sit down, my back ramrod straight, making my chest as taut as possible, pushing the medical box toward him. “What the fuck are we going to do?”
“Oh, so you’re ready to discuss tactics now?” He grabs a chair and swings it around to face me, sitting down and swishing a wipe through the solution.
“Yes,” I grate. I’m perfectly aware I’ve either been too pissed or had my head up my arse the past twenty-four hours.
“We should get the others in first.”
“Fine,” I mumble, hissing as he wipes me up with a heavy hand. “Anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is shit?” I ask, making him smile as he continues, ignoring the fact that I’m pushing myself into the back of the chair, trying in vain to shy away from the biting sting of the alcohol on my open wounds.
“You didn’t mess around, did you?”
I look down and immediately look away. “I’m a dick, I know.”
He hums, concentrating, but doesn’t agree. “What did you make of Lennox Benson?”
“Apart from the fact he obviously fancied my pregnant w—Ouch, you fucker!”
“Pussy,” he mutters. “Yes, apart from that.”
“Take it easy,” I grumble, looking down at his working hand. “What’s your point?”
“He’s a good-looking bloke.” James dumps the red-stained cloth in the bowl and rummages through the box.
My shoulders drop. “It wouldn’t have mattered if Lennox Benson looked like the back end of a bus. She did what she did because she’s a hateful bitch.”
“I assume you’re talking about your pregnant wife.”