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Row offered him an expressionless glare.
The doctor continued, “It was half an inch away from puncturing your intestines. Could you imagine?”
“I’d rather not,” Row deadpanned, unimpressed with his caretaker’s bedside manner.
“You could’ve died a slow, painful death,” Dr. Gorga said cheerfully. “But you didn’t. You’re going to be just fine.”
“You’re also going to be heard.” I flipped my phone screen, angling it in Row’s direction. “Taylor just texted. Sheriff Menchin should be here in the next hour. Seems like he is taking the threats against you seriously this time.”
“And to think all he needed was an assassination attempt to wake up,” Row drawled out.
I rubbed his bicep, not letting his grumpiness rub off on my sunshine. “Better late than never.”
“Not hanging my hopes and dreams on this clown.” He brought the jug of ice water to his lips. “So. Dot. What have you been up to while I was out?”
“Oh. You know. This and that.” By this and that I meant freaking out about the possibility of losing him and chasing whatever leads I had to figure out who had done this to him.
Row’s injury devastated me more than I cared to admit. In fact, it cemented that my worst fear had come true—I had strong, all-consuming feelings for Ambrose Casablancas. The kind that put my heart at risk. The kind that didn’t go hand-in-hand with my promise to myself not to let anyone in.
“Articulate it to me.” He fought a smile. “Using lots of words and analogies. I want the whole Cal flare.”
Swiping my tongue over my lips, I considered how much to tell him. “Well, you were lying here, looking very pretty but also very boring, so I sang you some songs, mostly The Cure’s stuff, because I think that’s about the only band we have in common. A nurse brought over your dinner, and it had trail mix, and I remember you hated raisins, so I removed them from the mix. I also readjusted your pillows. And filed your nails. And…fine, painted them black. Because it is so your color. Is that creepy? It sounds creepy now that I’m saying it out loud. I swear it wasn’t. I thought it’d bring a smile to your lips when you woke up.”
Now he did laugh, then groaned and clutched his side, where he’d been stabbed.
This was the part where I’d usually feel weird and awkward. Foreign in my own skin. But all I felt was…seen. It made me feel invincible. His gaze alone made me feel like the person I’d always wanted to be.
“Know what it sounds like?” He ignored the doctor and nurse who exchanged notes on a clipboard in the room.
“Unhinged?” I offered with a scrunch of my nose.
“Romantic as fuck.”
“Oh, it really wasn’t.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, then busied my hands by scrubbing my phone screen clean with my sleeve. “Trust me. Dylan was here the entire time, complaining about her heartburn. At some point we discussed that time you broke your arm at six when you fell off a tree and were so scared you peed your pants.”
His smile remained calm and praising. “The statute of limitations has passed on that particular case. Besides, I bet you peed yourself too, that very same day.”
“Row, I was still in diapers.”
“That’s pure semantics.”
“I see you have a lot to catch up on.” The doctor looked between us. “Any more questions, Mr. Casablancas?”
“Yes, where did you get your degree—the School of Hard Knocks?”
“Thanks so much, Doctor!” I interjected, balming Row’s rawness.
Dr. Gorga nodded swiftly. “I’ll leave you to it.” The nurse and doctor slipped out of the room, and now we were truly alone.
“Wanna know something?” I brushed a lock of onyx hair from his eye. It was exceptionally unfair that he looked like carnal sin even in a hospital gown.
“If it’s coming from you? Sure.”
“You’re not a terrible boss, despite your crankiness. I mean, Taylor actually likes you. You should’ve seen him in action today. He even called his dad to ask some medical questions.”
“That’s a full circle right there.” Row smiled tiredly.
“How so?”
