It was okay. Not pretty, but not the horror show she’d seen in her head. Two large swaths of her thigh and calf, mainly on the outside and over the top, were covered in pinkish skin that looked almost polka-dotted. Around the edges of these areas the skin looked ridged and melted, looking a little like Badger’s chest. In long lines leading away on both sides were scars from sutures they were preparing to remove now.
Her right arm had only a small graft area. The striated scarring was a little more extensive on her arm, especially her bicep, but even that was less horrific than she’d imagined. She had no scars that could not be hidden if she chose to do so, and for that she felt lucky.
On her left side, she knew, she’d already seen, were two long scars, of the normal variety, still stitched, on her hip and thigh. Her days of wearing cutoffs and cowboy boots were over, she thought. She’d probably never wear a bathing suit again. But she’d been prepared—she thought she had, anyway—for worse. She’d be okay. Badger said he loved her, that he still found her beautiful. She knew he’d seen her scars before now, at their worst, and she believed him. She’d be okay.
She examined her leg, turning it to get a better look. It still felt stiff and strange, as if the skin wasn’t used to moving in the ways it needed to move. And it hurt, but nothing like it had at the beginning. Then she watched as the doctor removed all of her stitches.
As he finished, he said, “It’s going to take some time before the grafts are acclimated fully to their new sites, but I’d say we’re past the worry about rejection. Still, it’ll be a little while until the grafted skin is fully integrated. So you need to keep it bandaged for another week or two. Instead of the elastic bandages, we’re going to move to these sleeves—easier movement for you, and better ventilation for the grafts.” As he spoke, the nurse began sliding the larger sleeve over her leg. “And no exposure at all to the sun this year. Next spring, with lots of sunscreen, you can wear shorts or short sleeves if you want. But for now, you’re Scarlett O’Hara. Stay out of the sun.”
She smiled. “I am the queen of sunscreen. If I’m outside without it for thirty seconds, I look like a lobster and have fifty more freckles. So it’s not a problem, doctor.”
~oOo~
When they were alone again, Badger sat at her right side and held her hand, which had survived the fire unscathed. “How’re you doing, babe? You okay?”
“No, I’m not.”
His forehead creased. “I know it’s hard. I really do. But I love you. I want you. I mean it. I’ve never meant anything more. I want you so bad. You are beautiful. Nothing could ever change that. Damn sure not some stupid scars.”
“I know. I believe you. I love you like that, too. That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what? What can I do to make you okay?”
“I need you to hold me. Really hold me. I need to put my head on your chest. God, Badge, I need that so much.”
“But—won’t that hurt? Your shoulder, or your leg or your arm or…”
Probably it would. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She scooted over to make room. “Please, Badge. I’m so lonely.”
He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “I don’t want to hurt you, babe. I never want to hurt you. I’m right here.”
“It’s not enough. No matter how it’ll feel to lie on that side, it hurts more inside.” She laughed sadly. “I need a hug. Please.”
Without further argument, he got up very carefully onto her bed, and she settled in at his side. It did hurt some, the wounds so recently healed protesting the pressure of her body, and her collarbone unhappy with the position, too, but she didn’t care. She eased her head onto his chest and felt and heard his heartbeat. He curled his arm under her braced shoulder, resting his hand lightly on her left hip, above the new scar. She was enfolded in love for the first time in weeks.
“This okay?” His voice was soft and concerned; she heard it thrum deeply in his chest.
Overwhelmed with relief and love, she nodded.
“Adrienne?”
Lest he worry that she’d lost her words again, she whispered, “Better than okay. Perfect.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Badger came out of the bathroom to find Adrienne out of bed. She’d been sleeping when he got up, and he’d hoped to be able to jump in for a quick shower before she woke. He didn’t like her moving around too much on her own, especially in the morning. She was stiff and a little shaky when she first got out of bed. She’d only been home for a few days.
Home.
Badger had brought her home. To their home. As he pulled on a clean pair of jeans, he looked around the bedroom that was theirs—the bed he shared with Adrienne, in the room he shared with Adrienne, in the house he shared with Adrienne.
Len had handled most of the arrangements for them while Badger spent the bulk of his time at the hospital. They were renting a little bungalow a couple of blocks off Main Street. Nothing special, just a little two-bedroom house. It had been vacant a long time and was pretty seedy, actually. But Len had had the club girls clean it up and then sent the Prospects in to buy and build a houseful of the kind of furniture that came in flat boxes with instructions translated into terrible English.
It was all very cheap, but he didn’t care. He lived with Adrienne. Really lived with her.
She had nothing, though. Her father had brought all of her things and then abandoned her, and then, only days later, she’d lost it all. Everything she owned. Even her car. Only her photos, stored online, survived.
The entire time she was in the hospital, she’d never once asked about her things. Even after she’d begun to talk again, she never asked. He hadn’t offered the information, because he hadn’t been sure how to bring it up.
The day she was discharged, as he was helping her into Lilli’s SUV, which he’d borrowed for the trip, not wanting her to ride home in his shitty old pickup, she stopped and asked where they were going. He’d told her then that he’d rented them a house. She’d been glad.
On the ride back to Signal Bend, though, she’d begun to think about her things. Glancing at her now and then as he drove, he’d seen it happen. As they were on the road that would lead them into town, to their new home, she’d finally asked what she’d lost, and he’d had to tell her that she’d lost everything she owned. Except for those digital photos, her loss was total.
Her homecoming had, thus, been subdued. So caught up in her physical condition, Badger had not really spent much time contemplating all the ways that her life had been demolished since March, when she’d come to town for a visit and decided to stay. But when he helped her into their tiny house with its Walmart furnishings, the closets, drawers, and cupboards nearly empty, and she’d looked silently around and then sat silently down on the flimsy futon that served as their couch, he’d seen her life through her eyes. And he’d worried, briefly, that she’d gone quiet again.
He’d hated her silence in the hospital. He thought he understood it, at least a little, but it had made him feel distant from her, unable to help her. He’d felt useless. He’d been useless. So when she sat in their living room, staring quietly at nothing, he’d felt a little jolt of fear.
But then she’d turned to him, as he sat next to her, and said, “Clean slate, I guess. New start.”
He’d pulled her close, mindful of her tender, still-healing body. A new start for both of them, really. Their life would begin now, together.
Dressed, he went out to the kitchen and found her sitting at their little table with a cup of tea. She was wearing a pair of knit shorts and a halter top, clothes that were easy to manage around her braced arm. Her right arm and leg were wrapped in the white mesh sleeve things they’d given her at the hospital. Her hair was loose and wild, over her shoulders and down her back. She had not lost that in the fire.
She smiled up at him as he came into the room. “Hey.”
“Hey. You get out of bed okay?” He kissed her cheek and went to pour himself a glass of orange j
uice.
“Obviously. Not too stiff this morning, actually.”
“Good. You want some breakfast?”
“I had a banana.”
“That’s not breakfast, babe.”
“It worked for me. Not hungry.” She wasn’t a big eater in general, but since the fire, getting her to eat was turning him into a nag. She didn’t seem to be interested. Ever. He didn’t completely believe that she’d had a banana, but he resisted the urge to check the garbage under the sink for the peel.
“Have an early lunch, then, right? Who’s coming today—Cory, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, Cory is today’s babysitter.”
Lilli, Cory, and Tasha were doing the circuit, helping Shannon and Adrienne both. It was mostly Lilli and Cory, really, doing the heavy lifting. Tasha was busy at the clinic during the days, and some nights, too.
“Not babysitter. Company.”
“I know. It’s fine—it’s good, even. Being alone sucks. But I’d rather have your company.”
“I’m sorry, Adrienne. I’d stay if I could. I’ll be back as soon as I can. And I’ll call and check in, let you know what’s up with me. Okay?”
She nodded and sipped at her tea. Since it didn’t look like she was going to be a player for any real kind of breakfast, Badger poured himself a bowl of cereal. Standing at the counter, his back to her, he asked, with as little affect in his voice as possible, “You give any more thought to what we talked about last night?”
Quiet behind him. He didn’t turn right away, just finished making his breakfast. He put the cereal box and the milk carton away before he turned. She was staring at him, and her eyes followed him as he sat across from her at the table.
“You gonna answer me?”
“I have. I’ve answered you every time you’ve asked. I told you last night I didn’t want you to bring it up again. So the answer is no. I have not given it any more thought. I don’t intend to give it any more thought. And I hate that you won’t listen to me telling you what I want.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Yeah, I got that. I don’t care what you think. About this, I don’t care.”
“He doesn’t even know any of this happened.”
She stood up—and she did it okay, not too shaky. When she crossed to the sink with her mug, she limped a little, but Badger could tell that she’d been honest earlier when she’d said she wasn’t so stiff today. After she rinsed her cup out, she stood there, at the sink, her back to him. “He made me choose. I chose. I mean it, Badge. Don’t bring him up again. Ever.” She limped out of the room without looking at him.
Before he followed, he finished his breakfast, giving her a little space. He shouldn’t have pushed again. But it didn’t make sense in his head that her father was just out of her life. He knew how close she’d been to him. It sat wrong with him that her father and brothers had no idea that she’d almost died in a fire. He felt certain that if they knew, the bridge between them could be rebuilt. But she didn’t want them to know.
When he went back to their bedroom, she was standing at her little dresser, staring down into the sparse top drawer. He’d been stunned by all the clothes and shoes they’d unpacked a few weeks ago, stuffing two closets full in the B&B. Now, she had very little. And he had no idea how she’d rebuild the kind of wardrobe she’d had. Her style, despite her fondness for cowboy boots, was not exactly something that could be replicated at Walmart. Or even at the mall in Springfield.
He could tell that she sensed him coming up behind her, but she didn’t reject him when he got as close as he could and put his hands on her hips. Brushing her hair to the side, and with a lingering kiss to her bare right shoulder and its lovely freckles—he was a fan of this halter she was wearing—he murmured, “I’m sorry. I won’t say more about it.”
“I can’t deal, Badge. I need to keep that door closed. Locked. Key thrown away.” She tipped her head, extending the line of her neck for him, and he kissed from the ball of her shoulder up to her ear, letting his beard brush invisible lines over her skin. He knew how she liked that. He felt her pulse beating faster beneath his lips. When he nipped lightly on her skin, he felt her moan as much as heard it.
“I know, babe. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening. I love you. I want you happy. I want you whole.”
Almost of their own volition, his hands pushed forward, from her hips to her belly, his fingers sliding just under the waistband of her little shorts. She wasn’t wearing underwear.
More than a month since the fire. More than a month since they’d been intimate. In the hospital, he’d felt too worried and protective to get unmanageably horny. He’d barely thought of sex. But in the days that he’d had her home—in their home, in their bed, her body and his together with little between them—he was starting to have some trouble. But she was still hurt.
His erection uncomfortably huge and digging into her back, Badger canted his hips away, making a slice of space between them. But she moaned quietly and followed his movement, keeping their bodies in contact.
“Badge.” The word was barely a whisper, but it was sultry with desire.
“Babe, we can’t.” Even as he said it, he pushed one hand into her shorts, gliding over the silken skin of her belly and into her curls. Her wet curls. Usually she kept everything trimmed and neat, just a little triangle, but of course since the fire things had gotten more…natural. Until just now, since the fire, he’d seen her a few times, but this was the first time he’d touched her. He liked the curls, soft and wet on his fingers.
He brushed a fingertip over the slick bud of her clit, and she twitched hard and bent forward, pressing her ass more tightly to his body. His cock ached. As much to himself as to her, he said again, “We can’t, babe.” But his hand, moving more firmly on her, now in her, wasn’t listening. His cock, rebelling against the bonds of his jeans, wasn’t listening. Adrienne, writhing in his arms, breathless, wasn’t listening.
“We can,” she panted.
“How?”
“Like this. Just like this. From behind. Hold me up.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” But he was opening his jeans. The way they were rocking together was already too much for his body to ignore.
She pawed with her one free hand at her shorts, but he brushed her away and took them down himself, being careful of the sleeve over her hurt leg.
He managed the condom with one hand and muttered, “Achievement unlocked.”
She looked over her shoulder; her face was flushed and gorgeous. “What?”
“Nothing,” he chuckled. “Just had a little geek leak.” To stave off further inquiry, he bent forward, pushing her over, too, and slid a hand over her firm, satiny ass and between her legs, where she was even wetter than before. “You sure about this?”
“Jesus, Badge. Yes. Please!”
He slid into her, and oh fuck, she felt good. She cried out as he surged, sinking deeply, so deeply into her, her body constricting tightly around him, holding him, encompassing him completely.
Her weak leg buckled a little as he rocked backwards, and he clutched her more tightly, one hand still between her legs, the other arm across her midsection. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Don’t stop.”
“I don’t think I could, babe. God, you feel good.” He shifted his hold, bringing his hand from her waist, pushing it up under her top to cup a breast. Her nipple was a hard little pebble on his fingers. He took it between his thumb and forefinger and pinched lightly, savoring the way it grew even harder in his grasp. When he did so, she moaned and dropped her head backwards to his shoulder. And her leg buckled again.
Rather than ask if she was okay—she was writhing on him so much, her hips constantly active, that he knew she was, and he was beyond words, anyway—he simply lifted her off the floor. Holding her tightly to his chest, one hand clutching her breast, the other firm but still on her clit, the movements of their joined bodies sliding her against his palm, he locked his leg
s and thrust into her as hard and fast as he could.
They were both grunting in time with his thrusts, in time with each other, a feral harmony. She slid a little in his grip and he shifted his hold, his fingers inadvertently tightening substantially on her breast. She flinched and gasped loudly.
“Oh, sorry. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she gasped. “That was—that was—wow.” So he did it again, pinching hard, but more controlled this time. Her body went taut, and he felt her flood over his cock. “Oh, wow. Oh, fuck. Badge—Badge! Oh, GOD.”
He thought that was the first time he’d ever heard Adrienne say ‘fuck,’ but he didn’t have the attention to spare to marvel long at that. It was hot, though. He let himself go, moving frantically while she pulsed and twitched in his arms, around his cock, until the knot of need inside him released. He came so hard he thought for a second he might lose consciousness, the tension in his body stopping blood and breath.
When he came back to himself, she was pliant in his arms, taking deep, calm breaths. He turned his head and, with his cheek, brushed her hair, damp with perspiration, back from her temple so that he could kiss her there. “Okay?”
She nodded. “Better than okay. Perfect. I love you. You’re all I need.”
~oOo~
He was late to the Keep, which meant a fine and a deadly glare from Isaac. But he couldn’t say it wasn’t totally worth it. He hadn’t showered after his encounter with Adrienne; he could smell her—them—on him. He thought today was going to be a good day.
But when he slid into his seat at the table, all of his brothers eyeing him, he understood that the meeting was a heavy one. They all seemed to be heavy these days, but this one looked to be significant even so.
Isaac glared at him for an uncomfortably long time, even after he’d apologized. But finally he spoke. “You see the news, Badger?”
“What, boss?” That question seemed to come out of some point beyond left field. “No. Guess not.”
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