“I’d be even better if I could take a shower,” Everleigh added.
“Yeah, I bet,” Doc chuckled. “I’m sure Billy can help you out with that.”
“You really think that’d be okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, her bandages will need to be changed out after, but it’d be good for her to get up for a bit,” Doc answered as Viper stepped back into the room. “You need a hand?”
“We can manage.”
“Then, we’ll leave you to it.”
As they headed for the door, Viper glanced over at me and said, “I’ll be in touch.”
As soon as they were both gone, Everleigh eased up further on the gurney, and a pained hiss slipped through her lips as she tried to shift her hips. “Shit.”
“Don’t.”
I stepped over to the gurney, slipped my hands beneath her, then lifted her into my arms. She wound her arms around my neck, and as soon as her body touched mine, a warm, longing sensation washed over me. It felt good.
Really fucking good.
I hadn’t felt anything like it in years, and I liked it—which was a problem.
I didn’t want to like it—any of it.
My entire body grew tense, and if the concerned look in Everleigh’s eyes was any indication, my reaction to her hadn’t gone unnoticed. I did my best to shake it as I carried her out of the room and up the basement stairs. Once we reached the main floor, I carried her into the guest room and lowered her onto the bed. I left her there just long enough to grab her some clean clothes and turn on the shower.
When I went back to collect Everleigh, she looked up at me and said, “Thank you for all of this.”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, it’s not nothing,” she argued. “You saved my life.”
“Doc saved your life. I just...”
“You didn’t let me die, and for some crazy reason, I get the feeling that it would’ve been easier if you had.” She wasn’t wrong, but I saw no reason to tell her that. I was hoping she’d just leave the whole thing alone when she asked, “So, how do you know Doc?”
“He’s a friend.” I could tell by her expression that she wasn’t satisfied with my answer, so I added, “He was a medic in the military. He owed me a favor, and I collected.”
“I see.”
I could see the wheels turning in her head and knew another question was on the tip of her tongue. I decided to beat her to the punch and asked, “Do you remember what happened?”
“I remember being shot, if that’s what you mean.”
“Do you remember who shot you?”
“Yes.” She studied me for a moment, then answered, “It was Antonio DeLuca.”
“You sure it was him?” When she nodded, I asked, “You got any idea why he’d do that?”
“Yes, but it’s kind of a long story.” She motioned her hand toward the bathroom where steam was billowing out the door. There was a bit of trepidation in her voice as she asked, “Could I take that shower first?”
“Yeah, you can do that.”
I stepped over to her and was about to lean in to pick her up when she said, “I think I can manage. I just need a little help getting to my feet.”
I gave her a slight nod, then offered her my arm. She made a couple of grunts and pained facial expressions, but she managed to get to her feet without much help from me. The same didn’t hold true when she tried to walk.