Page 24

It’s blaring now. The alarm, loud and insistent, refusing to be ignored. Screaming at me. Taunting me for even trying. For believing, even for a second, that I could have this. Something normal. Someone like her.
Because I’m not normal.
I’m broken.
Inside and out.
“Don’t.” I catch her by the wrist, pushing her hand away before she makes contact. “Don’t touch me. I can’t let you—”
“It’s okay, Ryan.” She moves again, her hand sliding along the inside of my thigh, the feel of her fingers tracing closer as insistent as it is inevitable. “We all have scars…”
That’s when I wake up in a pool of my own sweat. Heart slamming around in my chest, the fast, heavy pound of it the only thing I can hear. The dull, thick throb of it, pulsing between my legs, pulling my hand down the length of my torso, even though I know what I’m going to find.
Closing my hand around the soft, pliant lump of shit that now passes as my dick, I have to grit my teeth and lock my jaw to keep myself from screaming and cursing myself for being stupid enough to hope. Because being the dumb motherfucker that I am, I keep hoping that this time will be different. I keep hoping that maybe the doctors are right. That I’m not really broken.
That I’m not less.
That’s how it ends, every single time.
With visions of Grace dancing through my head, so vivid and real, I can still feel the weight of her on top of me. Her pussy clamped around my fingers and my hand wrapped around my limp dick, squeezing it so hard I’m in danger of pulling the fucker off.
And this morning was no different.
In fact, I’m still in the middle of trying to peel my fingers back when there’s a brisk, efficient knock on the door to my room. Hearing it makes letting go of my dick a little easier. It’s not Conner. He doesn’t knock, and it’s not Henley either. She’s been burning the candle at both ends lately, trying to help Patrick get his veteran center open. Tess is undoubtedly buried under the hood of some a car and no one has seen or heard from Declan in days. That leaves only one person.
Kaitlyn.
“Go away,” I bellow, jerking my hand out of my pants before turning away from the door.
The door flies open in response and the bright, overhead light is flipped on without preamble. “Can’t do that,” she says, her thick-soled nursing shoes making an oddly satisfying squelch against the floor as she crosses it to stand in front of my window. “It’s almost noon.”
“So?” I gripe at her, squinting hard against the sudden burst of light that hits me in the face. “It’s not like I have anything pressing to do—unless you count staring out the window and trying to remember what I ate for dinner last night.”
“Last night was lasagna,” she says to the window, while she fusses with the curtains. “Want me to write it down?”
“What I want is for you to fuck the fuck off,” I growl at her. Like the rest of the female nurses, the correct application of tone gets her to back off but she’s growing increasingly immune to my charms. When all she does is ignore me, I roll over and stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry. Let me be clear—get the fuck out.”
She finally turns toward me and plants her hands on her hips. “Jesus,” she sighs, shaking her head at me. “Can you be any more of an asshole?”
“I dunno… I could file a formal complaint with your supervisor, citing your lack of professionalism and your recently developed propensity for verbally abusing me,” I tell her, still staring up at the ceiling. “Would that help?”
“Go ahead,” she says, the squelch of her sturdy, rubber-soled shoes carrying her from the window to the bathroom where she flips the light on and starts rummaging around. “I’d probably make employee of the month—now, get up. You have a visitor.” She pauses for a moment, the air between us filled with the sound of rushing water. “Well,” she says, cutting the water. “Visitors.”
Visitors?
“What,” I grumble some more, throwing my stiff, aching legs over the side of the bed before pulling myself up. “Did Con bring me a puppy?” The visual of nurses swooning and fainting at the sight of a shirtless Conner Gilroy holding a puppy is enough to make me laugh. “Con causes quite the nursing station sensation when he makes an appearance, all by himself. I can only imagine what Con and a pup—”
“It’s not Conner.” Kaitlyn appears in front of me, my wet toothbrush in one hand and a tube of toothpaste in the other. “It’s a woman—a blonde—and she has a little girl with her.” She unceremoniously thrusts them both at me, nearly putting my eye out with the business end of the toothbrush.
Grace.
Shit.
“Where is she?” I look around like Grace is about to jump out of my closet and shout BOO! When she doesn’t make a sudden appearance, I swipe a hand over my face. “What does she want?” I say, pushing Kaitlyn’s hand away before she jabs me in the eye.
She shrugs while she flips the cap on the tube and squirts a generous amount of paste on to the brush's bristles. “She’s at the nursing station and as far as I can tell, she wants you,” Kaitlyn says. Rerouting the toothbrush, she slips past my defenses and all but jams it into my mouth. “I know, I’m as shocked as you are.”
“I don’t want to see her.” I shake my head. “Tell her I’m—”
“Yeah—no.” Finally managing to shove the brush into my mouth, she takes a step back and replants her hands on her hips. “If you don’t want to see her, you can tell her that yourself.” Dropping her arms, she turns away from me to make her way toward the door.
Yanking the toothbrush out of my mouth I take a disgruntled swipe at the blob of toothpaste that plops out of my mouth. “Telling her myself defeats the purpose, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know…” She aims a sunny smile in my direction while reaching for the door handle. “Does it?”
“It’s your job, goddamn it,” I bark at her, stalling her hand on the handle before she gets the door open.
“It’s really not.” She gives me another smile, this one coupled with a shrug. “If you can’t find it in you to take a shower, at least use the toothbrush.” She wrinkles her nose at me like she smells something bad while she finally gets the door open. “And for god’s sake, change your shirt. There’s lasagna on it.”