#Rev (GearShark #2)(8)

“Got it.” I agreed, hoping to head off another review of the long list of symptoms I needed to look out for.

“Keep those cuts clean.” She went on and glanced at the butterflied gash at my hairline. “Ice the eye and maybe the lip.”

She seemed to be rambling suddenly, like now that her instruments were put away and her official exam was over, she was becoming less robotic.

“I’m fine, Ms. Walker,” I said gently and placed a hand on her arm. “Thank you for coming over, especially this late.”

She smiled. “I’ll always come,” she said low. She covered my hand with her free one. “I’m so sorry this happened.”

I made a dismissive sound. “I’m a tough guy. I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“How much did Braeden tell you?” I asked, curious.

“He didn’t have to say anything. The look on Drew’s face when I walked in the house said it all.”

Everyone kept saying that.

Damn. Drew and I would suck ass at poker.

“He’s pretty upset,” I said for lack of knowing what else to say.

“It’s hard to see someone we love in pain.”

“Yeah, well the pain isn’t going anywhere.” I muttered, a thought I accidentally spoke out loud.

“You know what the best medicine for pain is?” she asked, giving my hand a squeeze before releasing me to stand.

“Beer?” I asked, hopeful.

She laughed lightly. “No,” she argued. “The only thing strong enough to chase away pain is love.”

“Love is pain,” I told her.

“Yes. But some of our greatest pain becomes our greatest strength.”

Maybe if anyone else had said that, I would have scoffed. Maybe I would have been able to justify her words so they didn’t seem so profound.

But Caroline Walker knew great pain. Looking at her now, I knew all the strength and acceptance I saw in her eyes was a direct result of her past. Once upon a time, she’d been the victim of someone’s love.

She’d almost died beneath the fists of his version of love.

If anyone in this world deserved to be jaded and against love, it was this woman. A woman who was beaten and abused, who had to rebuild not only her life, but the life of her young son.

Yet she wasn’t.

Caroline stood here whole and strong, telling me, practically urging me, not to give up on Drew. If she could find it in herself to love and be loved after everything she lived through, then I couldn’t possibly argue.

Maybe I should listen.

Humbled, I said nothing as she gathered up her things.

“I’ll stop by in a couple days to check on you, make sure you’re doing what I said.”

“You don’t have to do that. I promise I will.”

“I know. But it will give me another excuse to see my granddaughter.” She winked.

I smiled. “In that case, I might need a few checkups.”

“I always knew I liked you.”

I chuckled and it made me cough, which made me grimace. Damn ribs.

“Is he okay?” Drew’s deep voice carried through the room, but it was his presence that filled it. With my hand still wrapped around my middle, I watched him enter.

He moved with purpose, not quite hurried, but not exactly relaxed. The shirt he was wearing still had smears of my blood on it from when he used it as a rag. It didn’t bother me to see because it wasn’t his blood and also because he didn’t even think about stains or seemed grossed out they were there. He hadn’t rushed from the room to change, to get me off him.

Like every part of me was welcome to him.

Even the bad parts.

I was showing a lot of bad parts tonight.

But I was also showing a lot of good. Protecting Drew was the best thing I could do.

His dark-blond hair was tasseled and wrecked, his hands filled with first aid supplies, ice, and a bottle of pain reliever.

Earlier, he hesitated on the threshold of the room, peeking in but not staying. Now he barged right in. The sound of my coughing was all it took to make him forget he was pissed with me.

I took a few shuddering breaths, trying to calm my strained chest as my eyes locked on him and refused to let go. He was so incredibly good-looking. A visual representation of everything I could ever dream of, all wrapped up in one blue-eyed, dimpled, scruffy-jawed package.

I already missed rubbing my palm over those jaws. They were shadowed and scratchy looking, like the stress from tonight had made the hairs go awry and stand on end.

“He’s fine.” Caroline assured him. “That’s just a symptom of the rib fracture.”

“So they’re broken,” Drew said, his voice calm and deadly.

Well, that wasn’t a good sound.

“Not completely broken. Just cracked. That’s a good thing. It will make the healing a little faster and will cause less complications.”

“What about his head?” Drew asked, still watching me. His eyes were hungry, but they were also focused. He wasn’t looking at me so much as measuring me, like he was trying to decide if I really was okay.

“No concussion,” Caroline replied.

“Told ya,” I grunted.

The sound of my surly voice snapped his eyes to my face. Everything else fell away when he looked at me like that—with his heart in his eyes.