Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)(90)

The doctor arrived then, his footsteps loud as he hurried across to the bed. He didn’t have any medical stuff on him, but then again, he didn’t need any in this room. Beck and Dylan greeted him with a head nod, and he looked wary but confident as he reached my side.

“Good evening, Ms. Deboise.”

I sighed but didn’t correct him.

He then spent twenty minutes checking me out, under the close and watchful eye of Beck and Dylan. When he was done, he washed his hands, and moved toward the guys.

“She’s going to be just fine. I see signs of a mild concussion, but no fracture in her cheek. She needs rest and for someone to keep an eye on her for the next twenty-four hours. She can also have pain relief as required.”

“Did you check on Eddy?” I asked, worried about my friend.

The doctor looked at Beck first before meeting my gaze. Every fucker thought they needed his permission to speak. “An associate of mine is checking her. The last update from him is that she’s going to be fine as well.”

“Yep, Evan just sent me a message,” Dylan said. “She’s back home resting. Jasper is home too.”

Looked like the Langhams were going to need some full time medical professionals to take care of their kids for a while.

As I sank back, the doctor bailed, seeming relieved to finally be able to go. I sat up and turned to drop my legs off the side of the hospital bed. Beck was there before my feet could hit the ground. “What the fuck, Butterfly? You heard the doctor.”

I raised a brow in his direction. “Yes, I heard the doctor, even though he didn’t bother talking directly to me. I’m fine. Mild concussion.”

Beck swept me into his arms, and I thought briefly about fighting him, but then I decided it was pretty comfortable here, and I really did feel tired and achy still. “I’m going to deal with our problem,” Dylan said as we got closer.

Beck nodded, no tension at all between them, despite their earlier confrontation.

That was until Dylan leaned down and pressed his lips briefly to my forehead. Beck’s chest swelled as a rumble of anger ripped from his throat. “Don’t fucking push me,” he said, and Dylan just winked at me before straightening and leaving the room.

“Fucker,” Beck mumbled as he followed the same path out of the hospital area, taking me up the stairs again. I thought I caught a glimpse of a uniform clad man as we went past, but when I looked again there was no one. Clearly Beck liked his staff to stay out of sight.

I expected Beck to take me to the room we’d used for sex, but he continued on along that same hall until he reached the very last door. He opened it without jostling me at all, and I blinked when we stepped inside.

Unlike the generic spare room—pun intended—this one held personality. Warmth.

There was a massive king sized, or triple king sized more accurately, bed in the center of the room. It had a dark brown wood frame, and thick navy comforter. The wall to the right side of it was painted in a similar navy color, and was a feature of the room. Not just for the color, but because there was half a dozen guitars mounted to the wall on what looked like custom stands. Not in a million years would I have guessed that Beck played an instrument. He just didn’t seem the type, and it immediately struck me that I really didn’t know that much about Beck or any of the guys. So much of our relationship had been animosity and then fighting for our lives. I guess that was the brilliance of hoping for more years with them. It gave me time to learn everything.

Trust had to come first, and then the rest would follow.

As long as we had enough time.

Before I could examine anything else in his room, Beck placed me into the center of his bed. I lifted my butt so he could drag the cover over me. “Why did you bring me in here?” I asked sleepily, burrowing my head into cloud-like pillows. “I thought you never brought chicks to your room.”

He was silent for a beat, and I opened an eye to make sure he was still there. He was. Staring down at me with an unfathomable expression.

“You’re not just a chick,” he told me. “You never were.”

My eyes closed again, even as heat burned in my chest at those words.

For the next twenty-four hours, Beck barely left my side. Bringing me painkillers, and light meals, and waking me up all the freaking time even though the doctor hadn’t told him to do that. He couldn’t seem to help himself. My head improved quickly, and each time I woke it was to more clarity. I’d thought for sure I’d have a ton of nightmares, after almost being kidnapped, but I slept better than ever. Mostly because Beck was in bed with me a lot, and when I woke up I was often wrapped around him.

Early Sunday morning, when I opened my eyes to a dark, cool room, a soft strumming sound caressed my senses. It was a low, simple tune, but the beauty and darkness in each haunting note had goosebumps rising across my skin. I just knew this was Beck, and I continued to breathe in and out rhythmically so he wouldn’t know I was awake and stop.

A minute later, he started to sing.

Holy fucking shit.

I’d never heard a voice like his, a low rasp of sorrow and anger and pain. I didn’t know the song, but I felt every word he sang while his fingers strummed smoothly through the notes. Tears burned my eyes as I bit my lip to stop a sob from escaping. When the words stopped, the music continued, and what had seemed simple, turned more complex as the tempo changed. “I know you’re awake, Butterfly,” he said softly, not missing a beat on the guitar.