Call You Mine (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #4) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,97
sure there’s no nerve damage or paralysis.”
“You’d know if you’d release me from these weird needles that seem to be holding my body,” I complain. “Is this a doctor’s kink?”
He shakes his head. “Your brain functions seem to be the same.”
“Hey, you said it’s been almost three weeks. What’s going on with Blaire and your little spawn?”
“She hasn’t gone into labor yet,” he answers, taking my vitals. “I’m hoping that we can transport you to Baker’s Creek before the baby comes. If not, your in-law has a plane on standby for me.”
“Can I speak to Grace?”
“I’m almost done. There’s a long line of people waiting to see you, so make it fast. You can’t speak much, or you’ll get tired. Let’s see how many smart comments you have to keep to yourself.” He chuckles.
“Hey, were you asking Carter to take care of me?”
He looks at me weirdly and smiles. “Yeah, I told him to find you and stay with you while we saved you.”
“He did.”
Hayes closes his eyes for a second and says, “I fucking miss him.”
“I told him that too,” I assure him, then I add, “Thank you for saving me.”
“Anything for you, kid. I’m just glad you’re with us.” He squeezes my hand and leaves the room.
Grace comes back. Her eyes are red and puffy.
“You okay?”
“I am now.” She brushes her lips against mine.
“Don’t you think I deserve more than that?”
“The doctor said I have to be careful,” she explains, holding my face. “I was scared.”
“Because you thought I wouldn’t walk again?”
She shakes her head. “You were in a coma because he had no idea if there was brain damage. That could mean many things—I just can’t imagine a world without you, your voice, or your laugh.”
“I held on tight to your soul,” I say.
She gasps, touching her lips.
“What?”
“I…I said that while you were in surgery. Then I had a dream of you where you promised you’d never let go.”
“If I could, I would hug you.” I look at her, at her fading pink hair and her sad face. She’s hurting so fucking much, and I have no idea how to make it better.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I guess I’ll be the one hugging you until you’re better. That can be an incentive to make you work harder. You can hug me when you regain your strength.”
“I’ll do anything to have you back in my arms,” I tell her.
She scrunches her nose.
“What is it?”
“My family thought it’d be a good idea to tell your mom that you’re here,” she mumbles.
“Are there cameras outside filming her crying over her almost dead son?” I sigh, because the last thing I need is to have a show outside this room.
“No, it’s just her. She’s come every day to check on you. Unfortunately, she arrived when I went to the waiting room to give the good news to everyone.”
I remember what Carter told me. I have to let go of things. Forgive. Make things simpler for everyone—including her.
“What do you think?”
“I hate her,” she says. “But as I mentioned, she’s been dropping by daily to check on you. I’m not saying she’s the runner-up for the mother of the year, but she wants to see you, and maybe it’s a good idea.”
“Getting closure?”
“Something like that,” she explains.
“You know what I owe you?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “Nothing, I only need you.” She pauses. “Maybe we owe each other the rest of our lives.”
She kisses my lips. “You’re not supposed to talk much. Hayes might not be happy if you’re tired out by the time he comes to check on you.”
I want to remind her that I owe her a date. I want us to fall in love again. There’s a list we need to revisit. This time I listen to the advice because I can’t set back my recovery.
She kisses my nose. “Let me get your mother.”
I want to reach for her hand and ask her to stay. All I need is her.
Chapter Forty-Five
Beacon
When my mother enters the room, I expect the fashionable starlet who can’t leave her house without makeup, her long hair styled, and the latest fashion. The woman who enters wears yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and her light brown hair pulled into a ponytail.
She looks at me from head to toe and gasps. “They didn’t warn me. What happened to you?”
“I fell,” I answer vaguely.
“Yes, something about being on a stage and falling.” She waves her hand. “Maybe you should stop drinking before your concerts.”