Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(129)

He’d fallen asleep in his chair, but his head had been resting on arms that were folded on the bed beside me. His cheek had been turned to me, and I had hit an exceptional level of creeper, because I didn’t know how long I’d lain there and watched the way his lashes fluttered in his sleep or just stared at his face.

It was like that for two nights, and on the morning of day three, I was being discharged to go home and take it easy. The nurses had given me permission in the morning to wash my hair while Jax made the trip back to the house to grab some clothes for me. Sponge baths weren’t cutting it, but the angry little scar on top of the faded scars and the twinge of pain if I turned too quickly or breathed too deeply told me that I needed to be careful.

Even now I couldn’t believe I’d been shot.

My friends were still in town and I had no idea how long they planned on staying, but I knew they were going to swing by tomorrow since I’d been ordered to not do crap today, so I guessed they’d turned their second trip into a mini vacation.

As the doctor checked me over, and Jax was back, waiting by the door, the thoughts I’d been avoiding since the first night in the hospital crept into my mind.

Mom.

I closed my eyes as the doctor took my blood pressure.

My own flesh-and-blood mother had left me lying in my blood. That hurt like having a rusty nail driven into your heart. Repeatedly. No matter what excuses she had or how scared she might’ve been, there was no justification for that, and that was such a hard wake-up call to go through, because I didn’t understand until the moment I realized she’d left me that I still fostered a little bit of hope that one day she’d be like she was before the fire, the deaths, and the drugs.

There was no hope now.

I’d done the right thing when I’d spoken to Detective Anders. I told him that I’d seen my mom, and he hadn’t looked too happy to hear that and I wasn’t too thrilled to even be talking about it.

Right now, I couldn’t let myself think about her, because even though getting shot sucked and being forced into debt wasn’t too great, either, I was alive and I had a lot to be thankful for.

I glanced over my shoulder at Jax as the doc slipped the pressure cuff off. He winked, and I grinned.

Almost dying really did put things into perspective.

I was cleared to go and we made a pit stop at Clyde’s room before heading to Jax’s townhome. From what we learned, Clyde would be released by the end of the week, maybe even tomorrow if the tests were positive.

When we got to Jax’s townhome, I made it to the couch and plopped down there, tired from a freaking car ride.

“You okay?” Jax knelt in front of me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m just tired. Not sleepy.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Your stomach doesn’t hurt?”

I smiled. “Only if I do something stupid.”

His eyes searched mine and then he rose, placing one hand on the arm of the couch. He brushed his lips over mine. “You think you can eat something? They said bland food, right? Like chicken noodle soup?”

“That would be nice.”

He drew back, his eyes still clouded with worry. He grabbed one of those ultracomfy blankets off the back of the couch and draped it around me. “Stay there.”

As he moved away, I clawed my way out of the blanket and grabbed his arm. “Thank you.”

An eyebrow rose. “For what?”

“Everything and anything.”

His lips twitched and then he swooped down, kissing me once more. “There’s nothing you need to thank me for, honey. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

Confused, I frowned. “How so?”

Before he answered, he eased that frown right off my lips and created a series of shivers low in my belly. “You’re sitting here on my couch and there’s nothing I could do that will outdo that.”

Wow. My chest got all mushy, which was just another reason to be thankful for him. When he left to go fix the soup, I snuggled deep into the blanket and then we ate soup while watching a marathon of Property Brothers, which made me want to buy an old house and have them renovate it into pure awesomeness. And the fact that they were hot twins might have a little to do it with, too.

It was early in the evening when there was a knock on Jax’s door. I was stretched out on the couch, my back to Jax’s front, and had almost dozed off. I craned my neck and saw the frown on his full lips.

“Not expecting anyone?” I asked.

He shook his head as he carefully slid his arm out from under my shoulders. “Stay here, okay?”

Nodding, I gingerly sat up after he virtually climbed over me. He stalked around the couch, heading to the door, where he peered through the peephole. “What the f*ck?”

Unease exploded in my gut and I jerked to my feet, pulling tender skin. I placed my hand over the wound. “What is it?”

His head cocked to the side as I heard a muffled voice coming from the other side of the door. I had no idea what was being said, but several moments passed and then Jax wheeled around. My jaw dropped open as he went to a hutch in the dining room, opened it, and pulled out a handgun. The unease spiked to a whole new level.

Even though I knew he had a gun and I’d seen it before, it still came as a shock whenever he whipped it out. “Jax . . .”

“It’s okay,” he said, stopping by where I stood. His free hand wrapped around the back of my neck and he tipped my head back, kissing me quickly. “Just precautionary.”