my head, throwing it across the room. My shoulder is sore, but not anything worse than I’ve experienced before. I was playing by the doctor’s rules to make Tamara happy, but I’m done with the pansy-ass bullshit.
After slowly putting on my jeans, I walk out of the bedroom, surprised not to see her hanging out in the hallway, keeping watch.
Tamara and Gigi are standing at the kitchen counter, huddled together whispering when I enter the room. They look at me for a moment, neither of them saying anything before they go back to whispering about whatever those two are cooking up.
They always are, too. They never leave shit alone. It’s like they’re genetically wired to stir up trouble.
My mouth waters the moment I see the sandwich waiting for me on the counter, a glass of water next to it, and a small bag of chips. “Thanks for the lunch, princess,” I say, trying to bring my sweet back along with my patience as I slide onto the stool.
Gigi grunts, always willing to share her displeasure with me. Tamara doesn’t look my way. She doesn’t even acknowledge my words as she keeps her back to me, facing her cousin instead.
I grab the sandwich, take a bite, and close my eyes, letting the flavors explode across my tongue. She took the doctor’s directions a little too far, feeding me soup—by which I mean ramen—and soft fruit as if I were ready for the old-age home and not healing from a small wound.
I keep my eyes on the girls, and Gigi keeps her eyes on me too, never too afraid to look away. Tamara obviously told her about what happened and how I lost my patience with her right before she left the bedroom.
It was a dick move and one I think I’ll be paying for for more than a few minutes. Tamara’s forgiving, but not until she’s made the person feel the absolute worst. She’d make a great sadist, finding pleasure in watching a man, or a woman, writhe in pain.
I chew slowly, studying their body language. Both have their arms crossed. One facing me and the other still refusing to look in my direction. Both talking softly, barely audible to me even though I’m only a few feet away.
I drop the sandwich to the plate and lean back. “Can I have a minute with my woman?” I ask Gigi and not Tamara, because I know she’ll say no, shutting me out longer than necessary.
Gigi slides her eyes to Tamara, and they exchange a look. Not a good look either, based on the way Gigi’s lip curls. “I won’t be far,” she says, like she’s warning me.
“Got it,” I tell her, not moving a muscle.
She starts to walk away but moves slower than a snowbird stumbling through a parking lot.
Once I hear her bedroom door close, I move my gaze to Tamara. Actually, to her back because she hasn’t bothered to face me yet. “Princess, look at me.”
“No,” she says softly, looking straight ahead to the cupboards on the opposite wall.
“I fucked up,” I admit. “I’m sorry.”
“You did fuck up.” Her shoulder drops, but she still doesn’t turn toward me. “You made me feel like shit when all I’m trying to do is help you.”
I push away from my sandwich and make my way around the counter to stand in front of her. Raising my hand, I touch her face, and she doesn’t move away. “Listen, love,” I plead, swiping my thumb across her cheek, feeling the dampness against my skin. “I didn’t mean to be a dick. The pills make me loopy and crabby as hell too. I hate feeling like a burden and having you wait on me like I’m an invalid. I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”
She keeps her hazel eyes down, not giving me the thing I want the most. “You’re not a burden. If it were me who was injured, would you think of me like that?”
“Of course not. I’d do everything in my power to make you better. I love you too much to watch you suffer and not do something.”
She tips her face back, staring up at me, tears resting near her eyelashes, ready to fall. “Goddamn you. I’m not a crier. I’ve never been a crier, but you were such an asshole, Mammoth. You never treat me that way. Never. It just threw me, hearing you order me to make you a sandwich. I