Page 197 of Fame & Chaos

I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can, which isn’t very tight at all, but I need her to feel me trying. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” I choke out. “I should be more of a man than this.”

She cups my face, forcing me to look at her. “You’re all the man I could ever want.” Then she leans down and kisses me softly.

The kiss sends life surging through me, reminding me I’m here, alive, and she’s with me. Even through the pain, the medication, and the fear, Indi gives me something to hold on to. But then she accidentally presses against my left side, and a groan tears from me against her mouth.

She jerks back instantly. “Shit, sorry. I got carried away. Are you okay? Do you need more pain relief?”

I force a weak smile because the last thing I want is for her to feel guilty. “Just need another kiss. With a little less leaning, if possible.”

She wipes her cheeks and smiles properly for the first time. “That I can do.”

Moving higher beside my head, she leans in and kisses me again, slower and more carefully.

“I’m so sorry I fucked us up,” I whisper when she pulls away.

She sits back down and takes my hand. “I’m ashamed I ran again instead of listening to you.”

I shift slightly, trying to get comfortable, but it doesn’t work.

“Stop moving,” she scolds. “You’ve had surgery.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I glance at her through heavy eyes. “So does this mean we get to play doctors and nurses now?”

Her brows lift. “You’ve just woken up from four and a half hours of surgery, and that’s where your mind goes?”

“It’s where my mind always goes when it comes to you.”

Despite herself, she smiles, then her expression turns serious. “Caleb, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Dread shoots through me. “It’s my kidney, isn’t it?”

“No,” she says quickly. “Your kidney is fine. But your spleen was badly damaged. They couldn’t do keyhole surgery because of the trauma, so they had to make a larger incision.”

I lift the sheets enough to see the massive gauze dressing wrapped across my left side. “Right. So how big are we talking?”

“Big,” she admits gently. “And because you no longer have a spleen, you’ll have a higher risk of certain infections. You’ll need re-immunizations, and you’re already on IV antibiotics. You’ll probably be here around six days, then you’ll need monitoring at home for a few weeks.”

“So how long exactly am I out of action?”

“Probably six to eight weeks.”

I exhale hard and run a hand through my hair, only for the IV line to follow and fall against my face. “Not ideal,” I mutter, irritated.

“I know.” She squeezes my hand.

“Can I perform at all during that time?”

She bites her lip and shakes her head. “No. Your body needs to recover properly.”

“Shit, Ind. Rob’s going to have a fit. We have gigs lined up for the next four months.”

“Well…” she says, giving me a pointed look, “… perhaps rethink drink driving.”

I’m such a dickhead.

“I guess the police will want to talk to me too?”

“Most likely tomorrow.”