and almost faint when I get a glimpse of the gash on Chaser’s foot.
“Bring me a bowl. You have a big bowl? Hot water.” He barks a bunch of orders at me and I run to find the items requested.
“I already washed it,” Chaser argues.
The doctor grumbles at him and gets to work.
Except for a few hisses of pain and a wince here and there, Chaser’s stoic. Unable to take it, I reach down and curl my fingers around his. He tips his head back and peers up at me with an unreadable expression.
“You need stitches,” the doctor warns.
Chaser grits his teeth. “Do what you gotta do. I’m fine.”
“I’ll give you an injection to numb the area but it’s not going to feel good.”
Chaser pulls me down so I’m sitting on the edge of the chair and curls his arm around my waist, resting his head against my side. “Do it. Sew me up, Doc.”
He squeezes his eyes shut as the first needle slides into his foot.
A soft sob escapes me. My punishment should be to watch every excruciating second of the doctor’s handiwork, but I’m too squeamish. Instead, I wrap my arms around Chaser, wishing I could absorb his pain.
We stay that way—awkwardly clinging to each other, until the doctor declares he’s finished. He wraps thick gauze around Chaser’s foot and gives him a list of instructions to follow. “I brought a cane. It’s in my car. I’ll go grab it.”
“I don’t need it.”
The doctor ignores Chaser.
After the front door shuts, Chaser gestures toward the bedroom. “Go grab my wallet, babe. He give you any idea what he charges?”
“No, Thom said he’d take care of it.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“That you had an accident and hurt your foot. He wanted to know why you weren’t in Vancouver.”
“And?”
I hang my head. “I told him you wanted to surprise me. I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Well, it’s true.”
Something about his glib answer reignites my anger. “You wanted to ambush and accuse me. Don’t pretend it was some romantic gesture that brought you home.”
His jaw locks but the door swings open and the doctor rushes in before we can say anything else.
He sets a bottle of pills on the table and rests the cane against the wall behind Chaser’s chair. “Thom’s handling the bill. If you need anything or you see any signs of infection, call me. I understand you’ll be up in Vancouver. Make sure you go to a hospital if you have any issues.”
“I will. Thanks, Doc.”
He eyes both of us with a hint of suspicion before nodding. I walk him to the door and say good night.
“Do you want something to eat?” I ask, suddenly nervous now that we’re alone again. “I’m starving. I had an awful day at work.”
“And a shit night at home?”
I slide my gaze his way. “Do you really want to do this right now? Can I at least eat something before you accuse me of wanting to fuck other men again?”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” Finally, he opens them and points toward the kitchen. “I bought shrimp too. They’re in the fridge.”
I follow the simple directions he gives me to cook the shrimp and prepare everything else to go along with the tacos. When I finally call him to the table, I can’t help wincing at the awkward way he limps over.
“I’m fine. Stop acting like I’m gonna die. I’ve had worse injuries.”
“Such as?”
He regales me with stories of flipping over an ATV when he was a kid, losing control of his first motorcycle and crashing it into a tree, along with dozens of other terrifying tales.
“That’s it.” I point my fork at him. “Our sons will not be allowed to ride or drive any motorized vehicles until they’re at least thirty.”
He sets his fork down with a soft clink. “Just the boys?”
“Girls are more responsible. I never did any of those things.”
He huffs out a laugh. “That mean you still wanna have babies with me?”
I’m still not in the mood to laugh. “Not today.”
“Fair enough.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chaser
Mallory’s tough girl attitude dissolves when she has to help me to the bedroom.
“You’re in the middle of recording. How are you going to play like this?” A tear runs down her cheek, damn near breaking me. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll be fine, Mal.” I hop my way to the bed and drop down on the edge.
“It’s my fault—” She leans against the doorway and won’t meet my eyes.