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“Language,” Nancy snapped.
“Why are you here?” I croaked, licking my lips.
Nancy held up a glass of water with a straw in it. “Don’t gulp.”
Gratefully, I drank some and tried to sit up. I disliked being flat on my back with what was virtually a stranger leaning over me. Nancy pressed an object into my hand, and raising it, I saw it was the bed control button. Gratefully, I hit up, and the bed lifted my upper body. Finally, I could face Nancy eye to eye.
“I’m here, boy, because I didn’t want to give Grace a half-tale. You’re awake, and okay, so I’ll tell her,”
“No, don’t,” I said, thinking of the phone call.
“Huh? You like her, she likes you, what’s the problem?” Nancy demanded.
“I’m no good for Grace. I come from scum, and Grace deserves better,” I exclaimed as Sandie’s shrill voice rose in my head. Distraught, I shook it away, but it took a lot of effort.
A sharp pain hit my right ribs, and I gasped for breath. Nancy had stabbed me with a knitting needle!
“Are you insane? I’m injured here!”
“No, but I think you are, boyo. You’d throw away a woman like Grace? A one-in-a-lifetime chance at happiness?” Nancy’s eyes narrowed.
“Nancy, you don’t know who I am. So don’t sit on your high horse making judgements. Grace can do better than me, and who the fuck said I’m interested, anyway?” I demanded.
“Boy, I know you are. The chemistry sizzles between you two,” Nancy challenged.
Okay, maybe I was a walking hard-on when around Grace, but I wasn’t going to admit that to a woman old enough to be my grandma.
“Grow up, Savage. People have bad pasts, it’s what you do with your future, boy, that matters,” Nancy said with another jab. She headed towards the door but looked over her shoulder and chided, “Only a fool throws away the possibility of love. Didn’t take you for one!”
I rubbed my ribs as I finally had a few moments to take stock of my injuries. I was relieved not to see my legs in casts, although one burned, and I knew that would be through road rash.
The door opened again, and Drake entered with Phoe. They looked happy to see me awake.
“Oooh, you’ve got some bruises,” Phoe said, cocking her head and perching on the bed as she patted my uninjured leg.
“Bet I look like a grater’s been run over me too,” I suggested with a dark chuckle.
“Yeah, I don’t do ick, and that’s ick,” Phoe replied.
“Good to know. The Harley?” I asked Drake, who laughed at Phoe’s expression.
“Told ya, baby, a biker always worries about his ride.”
“Seriously, how is my bike?”
“Jett’s got it. There are dents and damage; he’s going to re-do the paintwork. Jett has already ordered the replacement parts,” Drake replied.
“I liked that fuckin’ paint job.”
“Now you’re gonna get a new one, and you’ll say thanks, bro,” Drake said, and I nodded.
Of course, I would, but I loved that paint job.
“My arm or elbow?” I asked, lifting the one with the cast on.
“Elbow, but you sprained your wrist and tore your shoulder up. You’ve got a sling for a while, brother,” Drake replied.
“Can manage that.”
