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I gritted my teeth as I slowly moved down the hallway. If he hadn’t promised me a hand job later, I would have told him, and the physical therapist, Marco, to fuck right off. Every single muscle in my body was screaming at me. Everything hurt, and I honestly want to throw the biggest temper tantrum of my life. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was get back into bed with Holt and sleep for a million days.
“Great job, Mr. Brooks.” Marco clapped his hands like I was five, and yep, he was totally checking me out. Again. How unprofessional could one guy be? “Do you think you can make it back to your room, or should I get a wheelchair?”
Holt’s eyes were narrowed into angry slits. “I think my fiancé can walk. Right, baby?” He seethed.
I smirked as he rose onto his toes to kiss me. “I think I like this version of you. Will this transfer over to the bedroom?” I teased.
“It makes me want to slap him because he keeps trying to get a look at your dick.”
I snorted. “Fuck, you’re hot when you’re jealous.” We started to circle back to my room. “I’m wearing underwear, H, it’s not like he can see anything.”
“Mine.” He grunted.
Pride swelled in my chest at that single word, and I stopped suddenly right outside the door to the room. I’d almost lost him. The thought made me want to slap myself in the face.
“Watson, are you okay?” Holt gripped my arm. “Should I get someone? A nurse, maybe?”
“Kiss me,” I murmured. “Kiss me right now so everyone can see that I’m yours.”
Holt’s eyes went wide before he did as I asked. His soft lips met mine, my arm wrapped around his back to pull him closer, and I didn’t give two shits who saw. I loved him. He loved me. No one was going to keep us apart ever again.
Holt’s hand came up to stroke over my cheek, up into my hair, and when my tongue slid over his bottom lip, he opened his mouth for me without hesitation before he pulled back, his cheeks pink and eyes bright.
“Mine,” I teased before I grabbed the walker to head into my room. I sat down on the hospital bed just as Dr. Sherman walked in. My stomach dropped.
“Doc.”
I met Holt’s eyes as he moved around the doctor to get to me and grasped my hand to lace our fingers together.
“How are you feeling, Watts?” He didn’t seem fazed that I was holding hands with my stepbrother. “You look tired.”
I nodded. “I’m exhausted, but I have no one to blame but myself.”
Holt squeezed my hand. “He’s doing good, though, right? He’s moving around with the walker. Should be able to go home with me soon. Or at least that’s what the physical therapist said.” He gave me a brief smile.
“Yes, very soon.” Dr. Sherman nodded. “However,” He cleared his throat. “You won’t be driving again.” I felt sick to my stomach. I did that. I fucked up that chance by getting behind the wheel and causing another seizure. “The scan shows you had more than one seizure. On the night of your accident, and another one here, in the hospital while in the coma. It might happen again, or it might not, but we can’t chance it.” He gave me a sad smile. “I know it’s not the news you wanted, and I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you.”
Holt’s grip was so tight it hurt. “Do you... Do you know what caused it?” he whispered.
“Possibly stress, or lack of sleep. It could have been because of the brain injury sustained from the original accident. We would need to do more tests—”
“No.” I shook my head. “No more tests,” I told him. “I don’t want that.” I felt tears burn my eyes as I turned to look at Holt, whose face had grown white.
“Of course, if you change your mind. I’ll come to check on you later,” Dr. Sherman said.
Holt stared at me with big eyes. “I’m so damn sorry, Watson.”
“What are you thinking, baby?” I asked. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
He nodded. “Is this my fault?”
“No.” I untangled our fingers so I could cup his face with both of my hands. “The first accident caused all of this. I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I struggled to get up onto my knees, wanting to get closer, but body wasn’t strong enough yet. “Holt, look at me.” When his eyes moved to my face, I saw tears shining in them. “No, don’t put the blame on yourself.”
“Watson.” His chin trembled as he spoke.
I yanked the blanket back. “Get up here.” When he shook his head, I popped my jaw. “I swear to fucking God, Holt.” I was sick of this game. “I love you. You’re not going to do this to yourself, and you’re not pushing me away. I won’t let you. Get. Up. Here.”
With a sigh, Holt climbed up onto the bed and buried his face against my chest. I wrapped my arm around his small frame to pull him closer. “It’s—”
