“What?”
“You quit working for him. The day we took over the pub, you said you’d just quit.”
“Well, yeah, I had.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at her for several moments. Feeling uncomfortable, she started to pull away from him, but he didn’t let go.
“You’re a fighter.”
She stopped at that. A fighter? Her?
She was a struggler more than anything. Struggling to make ends meet, struggling to get her jewelry business off the ground, struggling to pay off her debts, struggling to make something out of her life and dig out of the shit she always seemed to get mired in no matter how hard she tried.
A fighter…not so much. “I’m not.”
“You are, baby. Just like me.”
She sucked in a breath.
“I didn’t fight, not for a long time after I lost my legs. I was just getting through each day, that’s all, going through the motions. Took Low talking to me, convincing me I was worth a shit, to get me back to fighting.”
He let go of her leg, lifted his hand to her face, and brushed back some hair. “But you, Amelia, you’ve always been a fighter. You’re already stronger than me. You just don’t know it yet.”
Her mouth fell open.
He saw it and grinned. Then he moved his hand from her hair to her chin. He closed her mouth and ran his thumb over her lips. “My strong Amelia.”
He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers, soft, so soft, it was like a whisper of air against her lips.
She thought of the last kiss they shared against the lamppost. She thought of the first kiss they’d shared in his office. She thought of his morning calls and evening visits and his rushing to see her, even though his legs hurt.
All of that thinking must have made her brain backfire, because there was no other explanation for what she did next.
She grabbed the front of his tee by the neck—her cast-covered hand didn’t allow for anything else—and pulled his lips back to hers.
No. Demanded his lips come back to hers.
She kissed him hard and long. When reason came trickling back, she started to move away.
Yet, now he wasn’t done.
He drew her back to him, one hand cupping her head, the other holding tight to her hand.
Her ribs hated it.
Her heart loved it, so she told her ribs to shut the fuck up.
A few kisses later, he drew back and rested his forehead against hers. “Goddamn, Amelia.”
She tensed. Was it horrible? She thought he liked it. Maybe it was her lips? They were too chapped? “Sorry, I—”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“For kissing you?”
The hand on her head slid down to her nape, where he gave her a squeeze. “Do not ever, not fucking ever, apologize for kissing me.”
“But you’re upset.”
His head dropped back, and his eyes—molten chocolate over steel—locked with hers. “I’m upset because I’m getting fucking hard sitting this close to you. Then you kissed me like your life depended on it, which I fucking loved, so I go back for more. None of that, however, stops my dick getting hard and only makes it get harder. Now, I got to take you home with a hard dick, which means I got to walk out of here with a hard dick.”
Wow. Hot Man Hector was hot and hard for her. Amelia Asti.
“See you like that,” he muttered.
She blushed. “Well, uh…”
He just shook his head. “Now you’re being all cute, just making me harder.”
“Sorry?”
“You apologizing again?”
“No,” she said quickly.
He huffed a laugh. “Thought so, baby. All right. How long I got to calm my dick down until we leave?”
“A couple hours maybe?”
He checked his watch. “Might be enough if you stop being cute.”
She just stared at him.
He muttered again. “Maybe I’ll just find a jacket or something to hold in front of me.”
“It’s two hours.”
“So?”
“You can’t, um, calm yourself in two hours? Is it supposed to stay like that for so long?”
He smiled full out. “One day, baby, I’ll show you just how long I can go. For now, with you nearby, I’ll have at least a semi for a while.”
“Oh.”
Wow. Why she felt so proud about that, she didn’t know.
She cleared her throat and fidgeted slightly on the bed. Time to change the subject. “So, since we have two hours, maybe you should get some rest.”
“I’m all right, but you need rest after some breakfast.”
“What about your legs?”
He shook his head. “They’re fine.”
“They’re not.”
“Babe—”
“Am I allowed to help you?”
His head jerked back. “What?”
“Am I allowed to help you?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“If you get to help me, can’t I do the same for you?”
She knew he got what she was saying because his lips flattened a little. “Amelia.”
“Just take them off, at least for a little while.” She pulled out the one card she held. “Unless you don’t mind if I drive us home?”
His lips flattened into a thin line. “You’re not fucking driving. Fine. I’ll take them off. Happy?”
She gave him a calm smile. “Very.”
He scowled, then went to the chair in the room and pulled out the footstool. He began talking to her again once he rolled up his pant legs. “You have your car here?”
She nodded and watched as he took his prosthetic off, followed by the socks and liner. “The cops said that no one stole it, and that they’d parked in the garage here. So, it’s ready whenever I leave.”
His skin was red and had to hurt, but he didn’t wince as he poked his legs. “Call the nurse, babe. Get yourself some food.”
“I’ll ask her to get something for you.”
“I’m not hungry, babe.”
She nodded at his legs. “Not for your stomach. To help with your legs. What do you need?”
“It’ll be fine. I’m—”
“—sitting in a hospital, where there is probably any drug or anything you might need to ease your pain. I get it. You’re a tough, protective, super hot man but that doesn’t mean you can’t accept a little help. Accepting help for your pain won’t make you less hot.”
Oh, geez. Did she really just say that?
He remained perfectly still for two seconds, then gave her his super cute, wonky smile.
Yes, she’d just said that.
“You’re right, babe. Some lotion would help.”
She started to get out of the bed. “There’s some in the bathroom. I’ll get it.”
“Let the nurse get it.”
She kept moving, just really, really slowly. Fucking ribs. “I’ll get it.”
He leaned his head back against the seat and looked up. “Will you ever listen to me?”
“Depends what you’re asking for,” she muttered under her breath.
She had a feeling that, in certain situations, she would do absolutely everything he asked without hesitation.
And that sent a delicious shiver through her body.
A hand brushed Millie’s battered cheek.
“Almost there, baby. Time to wake up.”
Hector’s low voice filtered through her senses, pulling her from a restful sleep. She didn’t think she’d be able to sleep in the car, what with her ribs hurting and her head hurting, and, well, everything basically one giant ache.
Yet, the lull of the road and Hector’s calm, steady presence meant she’d just done just that.
Her eyes blinked open. She’d never sat as a passenger in her own car, and it was weird to find herself in it. A good weird, but weird nonetheless. She watched Hector in the driver’s seat, completely in control in the cramped space. He’d
arranged to have the Captain’s car picked up and returned, so that he could drive them back in her car. The Captain’s car was probably much nicer, but she was glad to have her car with her.
“How are your legs?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Good. How are you doing?”
She tried adjusting in the seat but winced and gave up. “Okay.”
He glanced at her, then back at the road. His lips thinned. “You’re not okay. Are you sure you want to see your mother right now?”
She nodded and plucked at the slightly stiff and new, but comfortable, scrubs she was wearing. The rest of her clothes—the nice clothes she’d saved for and kept for jewelry shows—were destroyed in the attack, and her best pair of jeans had been cut open by the hospital staff when she’d arrived.
If her mother knew who she was, she might’ve gone home first to change. Clothes would never make her mother remember her. Her own face never made her mother remember her. They’d tried a number of things over the years, but nothing jogged her memory.
It was just…gone.
And so was she, except for her body.
“I’d rather see her now. I’ll be okay.”
“You deserve more than just ‘okay’, Amelia.”
She had that warm, fuzzy feeling inside her again at his words.
“How long’s she been in there?”
She cleared her throat and stared at the scenery around them, the city looming closer in the distance, the gray skies growing darker and more restless for a storm. “Several years now.”
He gave her a puzzled glance, then went back to the road. “She came by after that graduation scene?”
“Sort of. She was in a car accident, and I was apparently listed as next of kin.” Even now she had a hard time believing that the mother who didn’t want her had still claimed Millie as her child, even for emergency purposes.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Anyway, the hospital called me when she was admitted. Apparently, her dementia had progressed a lot by then, but she lived alone, didn’t work, lived off some kind of government benefits she’d managed to get, and didn’t interact with a lot of people on a regular basis, so no one noticed. I knew I couldn’t take care of her, so we had to place her in a nursing home.”
As if timed perfectly to their conversation, they pulled up to the large, white, stone house on the edge of Masillia. It was an old mansion that had been converted into an elder care center.
He eyed it and the surrounding grounds. “Looks…expensive. Decent, but expensive.”
She nodded. “It’s not cheap, but there wasn’t any room in the government-run homes. I’ve been on the waiting list for years, but I doubt I’ll ever get a spot at this point. This was still the cheapest private-run home I could find.” And she’d looked. Boy, had she looked.
“How expensive is it?”
Her shoulders tensed. She couldn’t tell him about all her debt. Men, in her experience, ran from debt, including their own. “It’s fine. I’m…managing.”
“I bet you are,” he muttered.
Wanting to end the conversation, she opened the door and slowly stepped out of the car. She didn’t bother checking to see how she looked, as there was no point. Besides the fact it wouldn’t matter to her mother, even if Millie knew what to do with makeup, no amount could ever cover her injuries. The doctor had removed her eye patch, and she had just enough vanity to arrange her unruly hair to cover the damaged right side of her face as best she could.
Hector was at her side in moments and wound an arm around her waist to help her. It took some time, but they made it inside and approached reception to sign in.
Annette, one of her mother’s nurses, spotted her from down the hall and quickly came over. “Millie, girl, what happened? We heard you were hurt, but not the details.”
“I’m all right, Annette.”
“No, you’re not. Have a seat.” Annette eyed Hector and led them into a mostly empty sitting room, then took a quick look at her injuries. Her hands were gentle, and Millie noticed she was wearing one of her bracelets; Millie had given them to several of her mother’s nurses and doctors as presents, since she couldn’t afford anything else. She’d seen Annette wearing hers a few times now.
“The doctor give you anything?”
Millie nodded. “I’ve got a prescription for some pain meds. I forgot to get it filled at the hospital before I was released, but I’ll stop by the pharmacy on my way home.”
“We’ve got a pharmacy in-house. Let me take care of that for you.”
“Are you sure? You won’t get in trouble?”
“It’ll be fine. If they can’t fill it, I’ll let you know and call it in somewhere else for you.” Annette’s soft hands gripped hers. “I’m here if you need me.”
Her voice was hoarse again. “Thank you. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Girl, don’t try that with me. You look like you’ve been beat to shit.” Annette eyed Hector again.
Hector’s arm wrapped possessively around her shoulders. Millie could tell he was about to say something, so she intervened.
“I was…attacked at my show yesterday.” Her lips trembled, but she held back the tears. She couldn’t get into right now, not when she needed to face her mother, which was emotionally draining enough without adding recent events in the mix.
“Millie.”
“I’ll be okay. Hector drove to the hospital in the middle of the night to be with me, and he helped me this morning.” She didn’t want anyone to have a bad impression of him, not even the people at her mother’s nursing home. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, though. Maybe later?”
Annette squeezed her hand. “All right, Millie. You know I’m here if you need me, for whatever help you need.”
Millie hadn’t known and wasn’t sure what to make of her offer. What did it really mean when someone said they’d be there for you? Was it financially? Emotionally? An empty platitude? Millie didn’t trust offers of help easily. Especially not after having to live on edge after many years of dealing with Piers, who’d made her feel that asking for help was a weakness to be punished.
Annette wasn’t anything like Piers, though. Since Millie had begun to trust Hector, maybe she could finally accept that not all offers of help were meaningless platitudes. That some—like Annette’s—were genuine.
“Thanks, Annette. So, how’s my mother today?”
Annette gave her a long look, squeezed her hand once more, then let go. “Not so good. She had another tough night. She’s awake right now, but her mind’s not the best today. Still, she might recognize you.”
The nurses always said that. Millie wished they’d just be honest and tell her it wasn’t possible. Sometimes she didn’t need foolish hope, she just wanted practical truth.
Annette nodded to the hall. “Go have a visit. Give me your prescription and I’ll get it taken care of while you sit with her.”
Hector gave Millie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Want me to go with you, baby?”
She ignored the way Annette’s lips quirked at the sound of his ‘baby’ and turned to face him. “Not this time.”
He grinned.
Why was he grinning? She thought he might be angry she didn’t want him with her.
He leaned down so his lips were near her ear. “Like that you’re realizing there will be a next time, Amelia.”
Oh, crap. She had said ‘not this time’, which implied a next time.
“Next time, I’ll go with you. For now, I’ll wait here.”
She nodded, a little bit dazed, and started to stand. Both he and Annette helped her up.
Millie handed over the prescription, gave Hector’s hand a squeeze for strength, and headed towards her mother’s room. She shifted her hands as if to put them in her pockets, then remembered her cast and that these scrubs didn’t have pockets.
She had no physical barrier, and she hadn’t been able to erect her mental barriers, either.
Time for
more pain, this the emotional kind.
She knocked softly on the open door, then stepped inside without waiting for a response. Her mother was lying in bed on her side, her body slightly hunched over in a way Millie knew was permanent. Wires and monitors were hooked up to her, her thinning hair was a dull gray and white blend, and her skin had become paler. Last time Millie’d visited, the doctor had mentioned that her mother didn’t want to go outside anymore and preferred to lie there and look out the window.
“Hi, Katie.” Calling her ‘Mother’ upset her, so the doctors had told Millie to call her by her first name.
Her mother didn’t move, just continued to stare.
Millie walked slowly into the room, keeping her distance even as she moved closer. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it last night.”
Her mother turned to look over her shoulder at Millie, then twisted back to the window.
Millie’s heart sank. She still hoped. Even though she knew she wasn’t likely to remember her, she still hoped for it.
Even after everything her mother had done, Millie still wanted some kind of acceptance from her.
At least Millie’s current physical appearance hadn’t upset her.
Millie’s voice was low and quiet, as though she were a child again. “How are you today? Can I get you anything?”
No response. Not even an errant blip on her heart monitor.
Millie looked around the room. The care facility wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t the worst. She could really only afford the worst—charging the payments for this one meant she couldn’t afford it but she could pretend to.
Unless she started a third job—which, actually, she’d probably have to get now that her jewelry business had taken a hit—she didn’t know how much harder she could work. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to break through. She never stopped living paycheck-to-paycheck, never stopped worrying about money. She’d spent so much of her life worrying that her hair had started going gray in her teens. It seemed she’d never stop worrying.
After another few minutes of silence, she walked over to the bed. “I’m going to go now, Katie. I’ll try to visit soon.”
She reached over to squeeze her mother’s hand, but her mother pulled away. Millie didn’t try again.
Rush_Hector & Millie Page 17