Page 20 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

It helps, being reminded I’m not alone. That there are people who care if I wake up. That someone dropped their life for a few hours to put me first.

But even as laughter bubbles in my throat—hoarse and wrecked as it is—it doesn’t touch the vacant spot inside me. Not really.

Because Tex isn’t here.

And that silence is louder than all their voices combined.

There’s a lull in the chaos—McCormick is explaining in graphic detail how his inflatable unicorn, Josh, met an untimely demise at the hands of a rogue ceiling fan—when we hear it.

A voice in the hallway. Loud… Sharp… Familiar.

“I don’t care if he’s sedated, I need eyes on Armando Cahill right now!”

Everyone freezes. West lifts an eyebrow. Rhett mutters, “Uh oh.”

The door bursts open like the climax of a soap opera, and there he is—Tex—red in the face, breathless, clutching a balloon bouquet shaped like cartoon cacti and dragging an obscenely large stuffed bear behind him by one paw. The thing’s wearing a bandana and sunglasses like some rodeo reject.

“Excuse me,” Tex announces to the stunned room, voice trembling with emotion, “while I make a goddamn scene.”

My heart fucking trips over itself trying to beat a steady rhythm.

He doesn’t even glance at the others. His eyes find mine instantly, zeroing in like I’m gravity.

“You,” he says, pointing a trembling finger at me like I’ve committed some war crime. “ You left me.”

My throat tightens, but I can’t speak.

“I thought I could handle it. I thought, ‘It’s fine, he needs space, he needs time, he’ll come back.

’ But you didn’t. And then no one answered my texts.

No one called. And suddenly I’m picturing the worst. You choking on your own tongue.

Bleeding out. Or just deciding— deciding I wasn’t worth saying goodbye to. ”

He’s pacing now, cactus balloons flailing dangerously close to West’s face.

“I panicked, Mandy. I panicked, and no one told me a damn thing! So yeah, I made a scene in the lobby. And sure, I may have threatened an elderly receptionist with a cactus. But I was scared, okay?”

The room is dead silent. Even the bear looks concerned.

I hate a scene. Hate being the center of attention. But this? Goddamn, I needed this. Him .

Tex finally stops, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. The cacti jiggles menacingly with every breath. He looks at me like I’m the only thing that could ever calm him down again.

“I’m mad at you,” he says softly. “I’m so mad I could cry. And I probably will. Maybe I already did. But mostly, I just needed to see you breathing. Because not knowing? That was the worst kind of hell.”

I swallow hard. My heart? It fucking throbs.

Rhett clears his throat gently. “So… I guess we’ll go now?”

“Yeah,” Nash whispers. “I think we’ve been out-drama’d.”

One by one, the guys file out, Brandt discreetly placing the Build-Your-Own Grenade kit on my tray table like it’s a peace offering.

Tex doesn’t move, just stands there, cactus bouquet and bear in tow, trembling like a leaf in a storm, daring me to push him away again.

I wouldn’t dream of it.

Until now, I was so stunned and happy to see him, his outfit hadn’t registered on me, but now… the mesh tank top that reads ‘disco never died’, a velvet blazer, and jeans so tight I can make out the shape of his knee caps is all I can see.

He drops his gifts in the seat Rhett vacated and perches hesitantly on the edge of the narrow mattress. “You absolute asshole,” he whispers harshly.

His face looks like he’s holding so much inside, too much.

“You do not get to almost die on me and then ghost me. What the hell were you thinking? You left me like it was nothing! Like you didn’t mean—like we didn’t—” He cuts himself off and huffs.

“I thought I could handle it. I thought I was grown. But then no one called. No one said anything. And I panicked. I panicked, Mandy. I never panic.” His eyes trace my swollen face and the lines connecting me to the machines beeping softly beside my bed, and his breath catches, his hand fluttering to his chest. “How dare you make me panic.”

That’s said softer, with feeling. I want to reach for him but I’m a fucking mess.

“Don’t do that again, Mandy. Don’t leave me in the dark.” His voice breaks, and I reach for him without realizing I’m doing it.

Tex carefully drapes himself across my chest, his body like a warm blanket. Like the hug I didn’t know I needed.

He curls into me, all elbows and knees and heat, his head tucked beneath my chin. “I thought you didn’t want me,” he mumbles, so quiet I barely catch it. “Thought maybe I pushed too hard. Made you scared of me.”

My heart twists, sharp and bleeding. “You didn’t scare me, Tex. I scared me.”

His fingers clutch the blanket near my side. “I’m not going anywhere. You don’t get to push me away just ‘cause things are hard or messy. I know about messy.”

I can’t speak. I just hold him tighter. Breathe him in. That familiar bubblegum-sweet scent, now laced with something warmer. Like resolve. Like home.

“I didn’t know if I’d wake up wanting anything,” I say hoarsely. “But I did. I woke up wanting you. Still.” Always .

His breath hitches, almost like a hiccup and a sob all in one, and when he finally lifts his head, his eyes are glassy, but full of fire.

“Then it’s mutual destruction,” he says, brushing a hand over my cheek. “Because I’d go down with your ship any day.”

And I believe him.

For the first time in forever, I believe someone when they say they want me. Because he’s here, isn’t he? He didn’t have to be.

With the lights off, the dim glow coming in from the hall casting everything in shadow, my eyes feel heavy, and I begin to relax for the first time since waking up from surgery. Tex curls against my side, warm and real and breathing slowly.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whisper, burying my nose in his hair.

“Anything. I want all your secrets.”

“I can taste colors, and you taste delicious because you’re bright like a rainbow.”

Tex chokes trying to hide his gigglesnort, which isn’t the reaction I was expecting after such a romantic declaration. So I try again.

“I want to lick the lint from your belly button, especially when you tease me with those crop tops.”

This time, he doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter. “You’re fucking high as a kite, Big Guy.”

Sleep pulls at me in heavy, sluggish waves. I fight it, just to memorize the weight of him there. The way his hair brushes my arm. The way his leg tangles lightly with mine. It’s peaceful in a way I forgot existed.

I’m drifting.

Sinking.

Eventually, I give in to the dark.

When I surface again, it’s with a sharp breath and a cold rush of panic— he’s gone —that’s my first thought. That I dreamt it. That I imagined all of it. Tex showing up, the bear, the balloons, his body wrapped around mine like armor.

I shoot upright too fast, pain lighting up my side, my head spinning.

“Hey,” comes a sleepy voice from the dark.

I look over and he’s there. Still there. In the goddamn recliner beside my bed, now dragged closer, his head resting on the edge of the mattress, eyes blinking open and bleary.

“You okay?” he whispers, sitting up straighter.

My chest caves a little from relief or something heavier. “Yeah. I just… I thought you left.”

He smiles through a yawn. “Where would I go? You’ve got my bear. And my heart. Pretty sure that makes you responsible for me now.”

I reach out, fingers brushing the tips of his where they rest on the blanket.

His heart? “You stayed.”

“Of course I did,” he murmurs. “Told you. I’m not going anywhere.”

And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I believe that , too.