Page 115 of Held-

Wrecker raises his eyebrows, but Big is already heading for the door. “We'll be right outside,” he says, dragging Wrecker with him. “Holler if you need us.”

When the door closes behind them, I turn back to Brayden. His face is pale beneath the bruising, a sheen of sweat on his forehead betraying how much pain he's really in.

“You don't have to pretend with me,” I say softly. “Not after everything we've been through.”

He closes his eyes briefly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I hate feeling weak,” he admits. “Especially in front of you.”

“You're the strongest person I know,” I tell him, carefully taking his hand. “Letting me help you doesn't change that.”

A ghost of a smile crosses his battered face. “You're not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance. So pick your poison. I help you, or I go grab Wrecker. Your choice.”

“Definitely you,” he says, the ghost of a smile pulling at his split lip. “At least you'll appreciate the view.”

I can't help but laugh, even though my face is still damp with tears. “That's the only reason I offered.”

I carefully untie the hospital gown, letting it fall away from his shoulders. The bruising on his torso steals my breath—angry purple blooms spread across his ribs, stark against his tattooed skin. I trace my fingers just above the worst of it, not quite touching.

“Jesus, Brayden,” I whisper.

“Looks worse than it feels,” he lies, watching my face.

“Bullshit.” I grab the sweatshirt first, bunching it up to make the neck hole wider. “Arms up—slowly.”

He obeys, grimacing as he raises his arms just enough for me to slide the soft fabric over his head. I guide each arm through the sleeves with gentle movements, trying not to jostle his injured ribs.

“Almost done,” I murmur, tugging the sweatshirt down over his torso. The hospital logo stretches across his broad chest, making him look bizarrely like a hospital employee. “Now for the hard part.”

I grab the sweatpants, kneeling to help him thread his feet through. His hand rests on my shoulder for balance, fingers gripping slightly as he lifts each foot.

“I much prefer when you’re kneeling with my cock in your mouth, princess.”

I smile despite everything, letting out a shaky laugh. “Glad to see your sense of humor survived the beating.”

“Only thing that got me through it,” he says, wincing as I carefully pull the sweatpants up his legs.

“Stand up just a little,” I coax, supporting his weight as he rises enough for me to pull the pants over his hips. His body radiates heat against mine, and I catch a whiff of antiseptic mixed with his familiar scent. “There. Now you won't be mooning the entire hospital on our way out.”

“Shame,” he murmurs, his good hand finding my face. His thumb brushes across my cheek, wiping away tears I didn't even realize were falling. “Hey. I'm okay, princess. Really.”

“You could have died,” I whisper, the words catching in my throat. “If that tire iron had hit you just a little differently?—”

“But it didn't.” His eyes hold mine, intense despite the pain clouding them. “I'm right here. A little banged up but still breathing.”

I lean into his touch, careful not to put pressure on any of the places that still look painful. “Promise me you won’t do something that reckless again.”

“Can’t make that promise,” he murmurs. “Not when it involves keeping you safe.”

Before I can argue, the nurse returns with a wheelchair and a folder of paperwork. “Your chariot awaits, Mr. Cole,” she says, brisk and efficient.

Brayden starts to protest, but I put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warn. “Hospital policy. You’re getting wheeled out the doors whether you approve or not.”

He mutters something under his breath—”bullshit” is definitely in there—but he lowers himself into the wheelchair without further fight. Every movement is slow, deliberate, his jaw tightened against the flare of pain. Watching him push through it twists something inside me.

The nurse hands me the folder. “Pain medication every four to six hours as needed. Antibiotics twice a day with food. The discharge instructions list symptoms you shouldn’t ignore—worsening pain, fever, dizziness. If anything concerns you, bring him right back.”