Page 40 of Queen Crow

My eyes narrow at him, disregarding the fact that he looks like death, because he’s being impossible. I understand on a cultural level that these sorts of relationships aren’t the norm, but I’ve also never given afuckabout what any level of society thinks of me… only my family.

It’s my greatest shield.

I’ve used that sort of public shaming to manipulate and blackmail, I’ve used it to fill my black book up with hundreds of names, and I will never leave myself open to that sort of attack. The fact that the stupid tape keeps showing up isn’t about everyone else, it’s about all of the people I love who will be hurt and disgusted by what happened.

I couldn’t give less of a fuck about anyone else.

I lean forward until our faces are close again, his eyes closing at the feel of my breath fanning on his cheek. “Why not? Why shouldn’t I have every single thing that I want? You told me you wanted to give me the world. Well, this is the world that I want to have, the only one I’ll accept. Give it to me.”

“Avery—“

“No. It’s that simple, Atticus. I want it, I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. Give it to me.”

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t utter a word to me… nothing.

Silence falls over the hospital room again and I refuse to let him know just how much this is killing me, just how deeply he’s shattering my soul right now.

I’ve said all I can. There’s no argument left to make, so I step away from him and turn back to the bed to fold up the small pile of his clothes there. It’ll all be getting washed at my house, but my hands need something to do. I get everything packed away and then lift them from the bed. It’s not heavy, even with the laptop bag in my other hand.

I glance around the room to ensure we’re not leaving anything behind and even though I can feel his gaze on me, a hot and possessive branding, I don’t attempt to catch his eye.

I need to get him tucked into a bed back at the ranch and then I need to call Lips to drink our body weight in cocktails together, enough that I can forget all about this shit entirely.

A nurse steps into the room with discharge papers and Atticus turns his glare on her, terrifying the poor woman. I want to snap at him and remind him that she’s been the one here giving him drugs and cleaning up after him for weeks. She’s a goddamn saint in my eyes and doesn’t deserve his pissed off mood.

When it becomes clear that he’s not going to help her out, I take the papers and sign them for him. “You’ve all done an amazing job. We’re very grateful for everything you’ve done.”

She smiles back at me, taking the papers and making herself scarce. I make a note to bump her bonus money up, throw in a little extra for her for dealing with us without snapping back.

When I turn back to Atticus to ream him a little for his poor attitude, he pulls himself to his feet, his teeth clenching together, and my heart skips a beat. He’s standing for the first time since the bullet ripped through him.

Okay, he’s wearing clothes so obviously he’s been on his feet already and that statement isn’t entirely accurate but still, every fiber of my being is so grateful for this moment.

Even if he has chosen not to have me under my terms.

I grab the bags again, offering him my arm in case he’s too unsteady on his feet, which he stares at like I’m insulting him greatly. It’s stupid and I’ll bitch him out for the rest of time if he ends up on his ass.

When we get out to the hallway, his men all fall into formation around us without a word, their relief at seeing him up and about is palpable. He might not count them as friends or more than employees, but he has their respect.

We enter the elevator with three of them, the others waiting for the next one, and we make our way out of the hospital without any troubles or resistance. Atticus is sweating by the time I help him into my Rolls Royce. I pack the bags into the trunk and then I direct his men to meet us at the ranch to take up a security detail there for the next few days.

When I slide into the driver’s seat, I’m so busy categorizing and planning out what needs to be done that I almost miss his words, quietly muttered under his breath.

“I’m marrying you. You’ll carry my last name, not his.”

I freeze and there’s a sort of careful silence for a second because this is as close to an agreement as I’ve ever gotten from him. He stares over at me with his head pressed back into the seat, still as angry as ever, but there’s a resigned air about him.

I have to give myself another second before I speak because I don’t want him to see just how relieved and happy I am. “I will have a conversation with Aodhan about it, but I’m sure we can reach an agreement.”

His eyes drift shut for the rest of the drive home and I try not to wake him up with my glee.

Chapter Fourteen

I get Atticus settled into my room at the ranch and even though he snarls and rages about it, I spend most of my time watching him sleep. I suddenly have a much better appreciation for how Lips reacted when Harley was drugged back in high school and spent some time in a hospital.

She’d followed him around and bugged the hell out of him for days, watching all of the food he ate and every move he made, just to be sure that he wasn’t about to drop dead on her.