Page 51 of From West, With Regret (NYC Billionaires #2)
THIRTY-THREE
WEST
Five Days Later
A fractured skull, four broken ribs, and a splintered tibia.
Apparently, I hit every corner and sharp edge of the stairs on my way down, and my body paid the price for it.
The doctors said they wouldn’t normally keep me in the hospital this long, but considering all three injuries together, they thought it would be best to observe me for a few days before discharging me.
The physical injuries are nothing compared to the mental, though.
Watching your brother die before your very eyes is traumatic, even if you had hated each other.
It’s been five days since the accident, and it’s going to take years to recover from the distress of it all. I may have been spared from Heath’s attempts to kill me, but I know my injuries are nothing compared to what Heath suffered: death.
Over the past few nights, I’ve had nightmares about that night.
Seeing Heath disappear right in front of my very eyes.
His body disintegrating before me. The shrill sound of London’s screams. What I thought was her lifeless body lying on the floor of the storage closet.
The hollow sensation that immediately filled my chest thinking I’d lost her for good, and by the hands of my adoptive brother—the one who faked his own death.
I’ve tried to wrap my head around the lengths Heath must have gone to to fake his own death.
The people he must have paid in exchange for their silence.
The helicopter pilot who lost his life was merely collateral damage.
All of it has weighed heavily on me these past few days, and I know it’s done the same for London, even if she hasn’t told me as much out loud.
Like all traumas, it’s something I know will take time to heal.
For now, I try to focus on the good.
I take comfort in knowing I have London, and that we’re safe. She’s safe.
Every cut, bruise, and broken bone was worth protecting her for. And being here with her, with every memory of me alive in her mind, was worth all the pain it took to get here.
“Oh, wow.” London giggles, covering her mouth with her delicate hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh.”
“Oh, yeah?” I pop an eyebrow.
“Yes.” She laughs again, tucking her bottom lip under her teeth as she reaches out and touches my arm. “I really don’t mean to.” She tries to hide her grin. “I mean, it’s only temporary, right?”
I sigh, pressing my lips together as I look down at the large, black boot on my left leg. I’m thankful to finally be going home today, but I wish I didn’t have to leave with this monstrosity on my leg.
“They say I have to keep it on for a few weeks,” I mutter, resting the heel on the faded tile of my hospital room. “Which means no working at the bars and a lot of desk work.”
I hate the idea of not working. Behind the bar, at least. My life and businesses have been put on hold.
The Veiled Door has officially become a crime scene, and from what everyone has told me, the police have just released it back to me this morning, completing their investigation.
Considering there were hundreds of witnesses to Heath’s sudden death, and the toxicology report found an incredibly high level of drugs and alcohol in his system, they concluded there was no foul play.
Heath died from an unfortunate set of choices and circumstances.
Aside from the disruption to business, I worry about London. I don’t doubt her resiliency, but I wonder how much this will affect her. If it has, she hasn’t shown it yet.
I look back up at her. She’s stunning, standing in front of me with her black sweatpants and faded gray T-shirt. They cling to all my favorite parts of her.
My dick twitches, aching for her touch.
“Come here.” I growl, hooking my fingers under the hem of her T-shirt. I tug her forward until her legs slip between mine. She looks down at me, raking her fingers through my hair before she leans down, her mouth hovering over mine.
“No strenuous activity for six weeks, Mr. Knight,” she whispers. “Doctor’s orders.”
I chuckle, lifting my mouth into a smirk, biting back the echo of pain in my side. “If you think I’m going to take orders from a doctor?—”
“Don’t,” she stops me, lifting her finger to my lips, shutting me up. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
She isn’t helping matters.
I wrap my arms around her waist, slamming the front of her thighs against my swelling cock, showing her exactly what she’s doing to me.
“You are the worst when it comes to listening to instructions. You could aggravate your injuries and then we’ll end up right back here.” She gives me a quick kiss, but I don’t miss how she rubs her legs against me. Her smile widens, her dimples deepening.
Such a little tease.
“The doctor didn’t say anything about you, though, did he, Dimples?” I palm her sweet pussy. She’s warm and, fuck me, what I wouldn’t give to be able to sink my cock into her flesh.
“No,” she breathes, rolling her hips and rubbing against my hand. “Not here.” She pushes away, stumbling over her own feet, trying to put some distance between us. Her cheeks are blushed a faint red, and I bite back a laugh.
“Oh, fine,” I grumble. “Well, let’s get home, so we can get this going.” She snaps her head in my direction, and this time, I let out my laughter. “I mean to get going with my healing. Well, and you. I want to finish what we’ve started here. On your end of course.”
My heart turns to molten mush around my girl. I may not be able to have sex, but watching her react to my touch in all the best ways is satisfying enough. For six weeks, at least. Thank fuck it isn’t forever.
“Okay.” She walks toward me again with a smile.
Her phone pings in her pocket, and she pulls it free, reading a message on the screen.
“What is it?”
“Girls’ chat.” She holds her phone up. “They were asking if you’d been discharged yet.”
“Oh.”
“And to let me know they’re finished.”
“Finished with what?”
She scrunches her nose, then smiles. “I think they did a little welcome home decorating and what not. I believe Holt and Asher were dragged into it, too. ”
“Nice, but I’m surprised they convinced Holt into helping. Considering he’s been a little quiet these past few days.”
“I noticed that, too.” She frowns. “Do you know what that’s about?”
I shrug. “No. He’s messaged to ask how I’m doing but otherwise hasn’t said much. Maybe the other night fucked him up like the rest of us.”
“Could be.” She nods as she types out a quick reply, then drops her phone back into her pocket. “So, are you ready?”
She grabs my hands and helps me stand. I’m careful not to put too much pressure on my foot. She hands me the single crutch I’m supposed to use for the first two weeks of my six-week healing journey. I stick it under my armpit and lean on it.
“Are you good?” She hooks her arm under mine, and her eyes spread wide with worry. Her hand rests gently at my side, steadying me as though she thinks I might topple over at any moment.
I’m more than good.
I stare into her gray eyes, seeing every memory playing out in her mind. The bad. The good. The agony. The beauty.
I tuck her long, black hair behind her ear. “Have I ever told you how gorgeous you are?”
She rolls her eyes.
“I mean it, London.” I lower my voice. “You aren’t just gorgeous on the outside. Every inch of you is beautiful. Your soul. All of it.”
Her bottom lip quivers as she sucks in a breath of air.
“You once told me that losing your memories felt like you were wandering in the darkness alone.” I continue. “Losing you made me feel the same way. Regaining your memories brought you into the light. Finding you brought me out of my darkness.”
My heart skips a beat, and I can’t wait. I can’t wait to give her the life I always promised her. I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with London.
My girl. She’s always been my girl.
I press my lips to her mouth before placing a kiss to her forehead, where I breathe her in, lingering for a few moments. Then I reluctantly pull away.
“Let’s go home, Dimples.”