Own the Wind (Chaos #1)(77)

“Um… yes, uh… that would be great.”

“Excellent,” he muttered. “I appreciate your time.”

“Well, uh…” God! What did I say? “Thanks for that.”

Lame!

He extended his chin, winced, hid the wince, turned while holding his body stiffly and opened the door.

It swung closed behind him and I stood there staring at it.

I didn’t know what to do about this, and I didn’t know what to feel about it. I just knew, at that very moment, it felt weird and not in a good way. I also knew I had three hours to the end of my shift and I couldn’t do anything about it until then.

When I hit the nurse’s station, Peggy was still there, her eyes still wide, she leaned in and asked, “What was that about?”

“Uh, something about a patient. No biggie,” I lied.

She looked down the hall, obviously where she’d last seen Dr. Dickhead and asked, “Do you have any clue how he got that messed up?”

Oh yeah, I did. I totally did.

“He didn’t share that,” I told her. Fortunately it was the truth (in a way) and she looked back at me and grinned.

She was loving this. Yes, that was how big a douchebag he was.

“I bet he didn’t,” she muttered.

I pulled up enough professionalism to move on with my day and it was only when I was walking to my car that I took my phone out, my thumb moving on the screen, automatically calling Shy.

I put it to my ear and within a ring, I heard Shy’s, “Sugar.”

“Where are you?”

He didn’t answer immediately and when he did, his tone was quiet.

He’d read me.

“Where do you want me to be?”

I stopped at the door of my car, pointed my eyes to my shoes, and said, “That didn’t answer my question, Shy.”

“I’m at the Compound, havin’ a drink with the brothers.”

Okay, not home. That was good.

Maybe I could get my thoughts sorted before he got home.

“Tab?” he called when I said nothing.

“I’m here.”

“You okay?”

No, I wasn’t. I just didn’t know what I was.

“Sure,” I lied.

“Tabby—” he started.

“Listen, uh… it’s been a hectic day. I’m standing outside my car. I just wanna get home. I’ll see you when I see you, yeah?”

“Tabby—” he began again, but I cut him off.

“Later, Shy.”

I ended the call, got in my car, started her up, and ignored the two times my phone rang on the way home.

I was in jeans, a long-sleeved Harley tee, bare feet, had my hair up in a sloppy ponytail and my head in the fridge to get a much-needed beer (though, I was thinking more along the tequila lines) when Shy got home.

I twisted from the fridge to look at him and saw his face was serious, his eyes intense and they were on me.

I closed the door to the fridge coming out with my beer, taking two steps away from the fridge and deeper into the kitchen, I asked, “You want one?”

He walked into the kitchen, stopped and his eyes moved over my face.

Then he said quietly, “No. I want you to talk to me.”

“Shy—”

It was his turn to cut me off.

“Tab, heard it in your voice, see it all over your face. Somethin’s up and I figure I know what that somethin’ is. Now, talk to me. Why are you lookin’ at me like you’re lookin’ at me right now?”

Okay, suffice it to say I hadn’t got my head sorted before he got home.

It would have been nice to have the chance to do that, but with the way Shy was looking at me, I knew I wasn’t going to get that chance.

So I whispered, “You beat up Dr. Dickhead.”

“Yeah,” he copped to it immediately.

I blinked.

Shy shook his head then spoke. “Babe, we may not be an old married couple but we got a lot of time in and, just pointin’ out, at first, I was into you so I paid attention. Then I was fallin’ in love with you so I paid more attention. Then I was in love with you, so I figure you get where it went from there. What I’m sayin is, I know you. I know you were keepin’ shit from me. I also know why. And last, I know that motherf*cker was f**kin’ with your life and it was bad, because I sensed your mood and it was deteriorating. After the hog roast, Lan had a word with me and what he said sealed it, so I did what I’d been thinkin’ of doin’ for a while. Somethin’, I’ll add, that needed to be done.”

That was debatable, but I decided it best at that juncture not to debate it.

“You didn’t talk to me about it,” I told him.

“No, I didn’t,” he told me. “But I told you flat out what I’d do to that ass**le if he didn’t leave you alone.”

“You didn’t even tell me after you’d done it,” I kept fighting my corner.

“No, I didn’t,” he repeated, and again said no more.

Crap.

“I’m not sure how I feel about that, Shy. This affects me, my work—”

Shy interrupted me, “He apologize?”

I was losing it, therefore my voice rose when I answered, “Yes, but that’s not the point.”