Page 38 of DFF: Delicate Freakin’ Flower (Family Ties #5)

Gabby

W aking up felt like dragging myself through wet cement—with a hammering headache, a throat full of cotton, and a body that felt like it had been thrown through a windshield and then lovingly stomped on for good measure. Literally, everything hurt.

My mouth was so dry it felt glued shut. When I finally managed to blink my eyes open, the ceiling above me was blindingly white and unfamiliar.

The room smelled sterile, sharp with the scent of disinfectant.

Soft beeping drifted in from nearby monitors, their steady rhythm hovering at the edge of my awareness.

The quiet hum of machines filled the background, calm but clinical.

I was in a hospital. The strange part was—I had no memory of how I got there.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

I turned my head toward the voice—slowly because even that much movement made the inside of my skull pulse like it was plotting vengeance. Ira sat beside my bed, hands folded neatly on his lap, his kind old face lined with worry and something else—relief, maybe.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a whispery rasp. “What… happened?”

He leaned in slightly. “You gave us a hell of a scare, young lady. You’ve been out a while.”

My brow furrowed. “How long?”

“A few days. They had to take out your spleen, and you’ve got a skull fracture, too—but no major brain bleeds, thank God. They’ve been monitoring the pressure in there with all those fancy machines and scans. Didn’t have to drill a hole for one of those doohickeys, which is a mercy.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed through the pain.

Every breath sent a dull ache through my ribs, and my limbs throbbed with a deep, heavy soreness that felt rooted in the bone.

The cast on my leg pressed down with an unrelenting weight, and I could feel the itchy pull of gauze against raw skin.

A doctor came in not long after that, explaining in calm, efficient tones that my splenectomy had gone well, that the head trauma was stable, and that I’d need to avoid anything strenuous. No lifting, no sudden movements, no straining, and absolutely no heroics.

I nodded through it all, but I was only half-listening because I was watching Ira.

When the doctor finally left, I waited until the door clicked softly shut before turning my aching head toward Ira.

He hadn’t moved from his chair, but the lines around his mouth had deepened, and his fingers tapped a quiet, restless rhythm against the armrest. He was keeping watch—eyes occasionally flicking toward the hallway like danger might come creeping in at any second.

“You’re jumpy,” I croaked. “What’s going on?”

He sighed and leaned back just a little as if relaxing was something he had to consciously remind himself to do. “Gladys went to deal with her son.”

My eyebrows rose, or at least I thought they did—it was hard to tell with the pressure in my skull. “She what ?”

“She said it was her responsibility,” Ira growled, clearly less than thrilled. “Said it was time she looked her boy in the eye and reminded him who raised him.”

I blinked slowly, my brain crawling through the pieces. “She went alone?”

“I wanted to go with her. I told her I wasn’t letting her walk into that alone, but she shut me down so fast my hearing’s still ringing. Told me I had one job: stay here and keep you safe. Her words, not mine.”

My heart twisted. Gladys might’ve been soft-spoken and wrapped in cardigans, but there was steel beneath that warmth. I didn’t doubt she’d face down Maddox without flinching.

“She’s a badass,” I whispered, dry-mouthed but impressed.

“That she is,” Ira agreed with a proud little smile. “She said this wasn’t about revenge, it was about accountability. And that if she was the one who raised the devil, she’d be the one to put him down.”

Goosebumps ran down my arms.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I asked quietly.

He hesitated, then nodded once. “I think she’s more capable than most people realize. But if she’s not…then I’ll regret letting her go alone for the rest of my damn life.”

I reached for his hand, my fingers brushing his. “She trusted you with me. That means everything.”

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “And I don’t take that lightly.” After a long pause, he gave me a small, almost sheepish smile. “We’ve been courting, you know. Me and Gladys.”

I smiled through the ache in my head. “She mentioned.”

“I want her to move into the retirement home with me, but she says she’s still too independent for that.”

“She is.” That was putting it mildly.

He chuckled. “Yeah, well, I figure if I love her, I better find a way to meet her in the middle.”

“Exactly. That’s the secret to keeping her sweet.”

He hummed in agreement. “You’re wiser than you look.”

“Thanks…I think.”

A beat passed, then he tilted his head toward me. “So, Webb?”

My stomach fluttered, which sucked thanks to my recent surgery.

“I didn’t expect this thing with him to happen.

I went to him for help because he’s smart, practical, and capable.

But I didn’t count on the rest. I didn’t count on him helping me like he has or how things changed between us.

Now, I love him. I just don’t know if he’ll forgive me for putting myself in danger. ”

Ira waved a hand. “He’s been here, girl. Looked like hell and stayed beside you every second until his brothers dragged him out to go stop the madness.”

“He was here?” I whispered.

“Of course. Didn’t say much, but the look on his face?” He smiled and shook his head. “That wasn’t anger. That was something else entirely.” Ira settled deeper into his chair, his voice going quiet. “Gladys said he told her he loves you. Just not sure if he’s in love or if it’s ‘love-love.’”

I frowned. “What’s the difference?”

He looked at me, then shrugged. “Hell, if I know.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a movement—slow and steady, something that felt instantly familiar. When I turned my head, I saw Eddie.

He didn’t come into the room, didn’t say anything, didn’t so much as glance my way at first. But as he passed the doorway, he paused just long enough to look in, saw my eyes open, and gave a small nod.

No smile or fanfare, just the kind of acknowledgment that said, I see you .

Then he kept walking, continuing his silent patrol up and down the corridor like a soldier on duty.

I watched him for a long moment, comfort blooming in my chest. He didn’t need to say anything—his presence was enough.

Ira followed my gaze, and his mouth curved just slightly. “He’s been here since it all went down.”

I turned my head slowly toward him, my throat too raw to speak, but he got the message.

“After Gladys pulled the fire alarm, one of Maddox’s men panicked. Tried to run. Eddie got him. Stashed him in a supply closet until your friends could come collect him.”

My eyebrows rose faintly.

“No one’s tried anything since,” Ira added. “So, either word got out, or Eddie’s got an entire closet of cuffed bodies somewhere in this hospital, waiting for pickup like lost luggage.”

A small huff of amusement escaped me. It hurt to laugh, but I didn’t regret it.

Ira shifted a little in his chair, the kind of movement that said he was going to settle in for the long haul. “Now stop fighting sleep. You’ve done your part. Let us handle the rest.”

My eyes drifted back to the doorway, catching just the faintest glimpse of Eddie’s shadow as he moved past again—steadily, quietly, a silent wall between me and the worst of it.

"I have one last question for you. The last injury I remember was a bump on my head. How the hell did I end up like this?" I gestured with my good hand to my casted arm.

Ira's mouth twisted. "Someone clipped the back of the car. They just came out of nowhere, hit us, and drove off as we were skidding down the road. My poor baby's been written off, and you almost were, too."

My eyes widened. "Is Gladys okay? What about you?"

He held up his arm, showing me his injury, and said dryly, "Gladys came out of the accident better off than both of us. You got the worst of it because you were lying down in the back seat when the car spun down the road."

I was glad I couldn't remember it. Car accidents scared the shit out of me. "I'm glad you're both okay."

He leaned in and took my hand in his again. "Well, you'll be okay, too, if you have a nap. Ira's orders."

I chuckled, but I let my eyes close. For the first time in what felt like forever, I believed I had people behind me now who'd actually catch me if I fell.

And with Ira by my side and Eddie keeping watch, I let the darkness take me.

Webb

The TV blared from the corner of the room, and all of us were crowded around it in Jackson’s living room like we were watching the Super Bowl, except no one was cheering.

Jesse, Marcus, Elijah, Remy, Matty, Malcolm, Benny, and I sat in tense silence, eyes locked on the screen as the camera zoomed in on a makeshift podium set up inside what looked like a marble-floored government building—likely the local courthouse.

There he was—Colin Maddox, standing on a pew like some kind of preacher delivering a sermon, though this was no Sunday morning.

He was a man caught in the middle of a public relations inferno, trying to sell calm while everything burned behind his eyes.

His tie was crooked, his hair tousled just enough to look effortless—though it was clearly calculated—and his smile was tight, forced, and cracking at the edges as he launched into full-scale damage control.

“I want to assure the public that the recent allegations are completely fabricated,” he said, palms out like he was begging for belief. “I have always conducted my business with integrity?—”

“Lying piece of shit,” Malcolm muttered.

“—and this attack on my character is clearly the work of someone with a personal vendetta.”

“I’ll show you vendetta,” Benny growled under his breath.