Crashed(book three)(59)

I shake myself from my pity party and think how much worse things could be right now. I slip my shoes off and head out onto the deck for fresh air. I walk between Colton and Beckett’s lounge chairs and sit in one of my own, facing them.

Behind my sunglasses I take in the sight before me, and I know there isn’t another woman in the world that wouldn’t want to be in my shoes right now. Both men are relaxed, clad in board shorts, ball caps, and sunglasses. I let my eyes roam lazily with more than ample appreciation for the defined lines of their bare torsos and fight the smile that wants to pull at the corners of my mouth.

“Well if it isn’t Florence Nightingale,” Beckett drawls in that slow, even cadence of his as he brings the bottle to his lips.

“Well I think if I was Ms. Nightingale, I’d be telling my patient, Mr. Donavan here, that he probably shouldn’t be drinking alcohol with all of those pain meds running through his blood.”

“More like Nurse Ratchet.” Colton snorts, looking at me from beneath the shadow of his bill, green eyes running over the length of my legs stretched out on the chaise in front of me. A quick dart of his tongue over his lips tells me he wants to do a whole lot more than just look.

“Nurse Ratchet, huh?” I ask as I slide my foot up and down the calf of one of my legs trying to not feel insulted.

“Yep,” he says, pursing his lips as his eyes watch me over the top of his beer bottle. “If she gave me what I really wanted, I’d be able to recover that much quicker.” He raises his eyebrows at me, the suggestion in his eyes devouring me.

“Well shit,” Beckett swears, “if I’m not trying to get the two of you back together, I’m f*cking trying to keep you apart.”

“Fucking,” Colton drawls in Beckett fashion, “now there’s a word.”

Becks just snorts a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Definitely a good word indeed.”

Colton breaks our eye contact for the first time and angles his head over to look at his oldest and best friend. “Rest assured, bro, when the doc clears me, nothing—and I mean nothing—is going to be coming between Rylee and me for a long f*cking time, except for maybe a change of sheets.”

My cheeks burn red at his frankness but my body clenches at the promise of his words. And I don’t care that Beckett just heard because I’m focused on the words long, f*cking time.

“So noted,” Becks says as he takes another tug on his beer.

“I gotta take a piss,” Colton says, shoving himself up from the chaise. As I’ve learned to do over the past days, I force myself to remain seated as Colton struggles momentarily with his lack of balance and the sudden dizziness that I know assaults him. After a few moments he seems steady and goes to place his beer bottle on the table next to him. About a foot from the table, Colton’s right hand’s grip gives way and the bottle clatters to the deck below.

Becks’ eyes flash to mine momentarily, concern passing through them before he laughs and pretends not to notice. “Party foul!” he laughs. “I think Nurse Ratchet just might be on to something in regards to mixing all those drugs with that alcohol.”

“Fuck off,” he tosses over his shoulder as he turns toward the house. “Just for that I’m grabbing another!” I watch Colton walk into the kitchen, and when he thinks no one is looking, he looks down at his hand and tries to make a fist out of it before shaking his head.

“How’s he doing?”

I turn to face Becks. “The headaches are coming less and less but he’s frustrated. He keeps finding little things here and there he can’t remember. And he’s feeling confined.” I shrug. “And you know how he gets when he feels confined.”