Blacklisted (Loveless, Texas #3) - Jay Crownover Page 0,104

in a long time, there was no stopping the flood of emotion leaking out of my eyes. My heart hurt even worse than my head.

I stumbled to her side, picking up one of her hands like it was made of glass, so I didn’t disturb all the medical equipment taped to the back of it. I ran my thumb over the faint thrum of her pulse and closed my eyes so I could ask whatever heavenly body I hadn’t pissed off or forsaken to grant me a miracle.

I reached out and ran my index finger over the arch of one eyebrow that was exposed. She felt cold, and I swore I would do whatever I had to do to keep her with me.

If I had to pick her or the club, in that instant, I knew it would be her, hands down. I could do what my father had never been able to do and put family first. I just hoped it would be enough to convince her to stay with me.

I brought her fingers up to my face and put them against my cheek.

“You still owe me a favor, Presley. You can’t leave a debt like that hanging.” My voice cracked, and my entire chest felt like it was being crushed under an immense amount of pressure. “Please wake up. Please don’t leave me. I’m asking you to pull through this because I’m pretty sure you love me, and I’m damn sure I’m in love with you.” I closed my eyes and whispered, “Open your eyes so we can teach each other how to be in love.”

She stayed still and remained cold to the touch, but I swore I saw her eyelids flutter.

The response wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope, and I was going to hold on to that with everything I had.

Chapter 22

Presley

I knew I was alive because everything hurt.

Head to toe I felt like I was engulfed in flames of agony.

It was pretty jarring to go from nothing, an absolute void, to being awake and feverishly wishing for the darkness to come back so I could get a reprieve from the pain. While I was out, there hadn’t been any kind of epiphany moment. No disembodied voices pulling me back. No vision of my mother telling me my time wasn’t up. It should’ve been disconcerting, but it hadn’t been. It’d been peaceful, and I missed the moments where I didn’t feel like I was tangled up in a torment that wouldn’t end.

There was a swarm of doctors and nurses fluttering around every time I opened my eyes. I was pretty sure Shot was there as well. I could smell the hint of leather in the room. It was comforting, but I was in no shape to have a conversation with him, or anyone. I was sure Kody had been standing by to hold my hand and to answer the doctors’ questions on my behalf when it was too hard to open my eyes. I had a vague recollection of seeing her worried face hovering over me, and I distinctly recalled her whispering that Ashby would no longer be a problem for any of us, leading my sluggish thoughts to figure my former friend was the one who shot me, not the man with all the scars. But mostly, I couldn’t focus on anything other than taking my next breath through the fog of painkillers and constant discomfort. When they said the struggle was real, this was what they had to mean by it.

I knew I’d undergone not one but two major surgeries. One resulting from the bullet I’d taken in the back when Ashby shot me, the other a kidney transplant I’d needed to save my life. I also knew the reason I’d been unconscious for more than a week was because I’d been winged by a bullet flying past my head and ended up with a concussion. In order to prevent edema from getting any worse, the doctors had decided a medically induced coma while they tried to keep me alive was my best bet if I wanted a full recovery. It was a lot to take in, and I was glad Kody had taken on the role of speaking for me and to me when I was unable to communicate.

It was also all so overwhelming there was no time or space to invest my limited energy in wondering and worrying about why Shot was in that motel room with Ashby. Now