Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Her knees,” Kane gritted out as they lifted him onto a gurney.
I frowned at him. His helmet was intact, but maybe he was concussed.
“Her fuckin’ knees,” he repeated, pointing to me. He waved his hands at the paramedics, shrugging them off. “I don’t want anyone fucking touching me until they look at my woman’s knees.”
When all eyes turned to me, I looked down. My jeans, my magical jeans had ripped, and sure enough, there was blood dribbling down my legs from two grazes I’d obviously sustained when I’d skidded against the rocky surface.
They stung faintly.
“You can’t be serious,” I huffed, taking the chance to pull myself from Brax’s side to walk toward Kane. “You just crashed from fifty feet in the air. I just did what most third-graders do on a daily basis.”
“You’re bleeding,” Kane argued, his voice steel. “Take care of her first,” he ordered the paramedics.
They didn’t look happy about it, but it seemed they also couldn’t resist the authority in Kane’s tone because they made a move toward me.
“Do not even think about it.” I held up my hand. “Toss some Band-Aids my way while we’re in the ambulance, and you’re taking care of him.” My voice had its own authority. I might not have had muscles nor been a man, but I’d controlled kitchens for years.
“I’m not letting anyone do shit to me while my woman is bleeding.” Kane was obviously not letting it go. His eyes twinkled as they focused on me, but I could see the pain ringing in them. “I’m a stubborn son of a bitch, Chef, and I haven’t lost a battle of the wills yet.”
I squared my shoulders. “Well, you’ve never engaged in one with me.”
Then, with effort, I tore my eyes from him to focus on the paramedics who were watching us both. "I understand he is a brute, a famous brute and can be somewhat convincing in a hardheaded kind of way, but he’s also just sustained a serious injury. And I’ll tell you right now, if you even think about tending to me before him, I’ll make sure to sue you for negligence.” I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t do that, and I did feel vaguely guilty for threatening people who saved lives on a daily basis, but panic was crawling up my throat, and I had no other option.
“Tranquilize him if you need to,” I added when I saw Kane’s lips part to argue. “I’ll do it myself if I have to.” My voice was cold, calm and utterly unyielding. I focused my gaze back on Kane, prepared for a fight, knowing I was going to win.
Kane’s face was still hard, mostly from pain at that point. At least that’s what I was guessing because his eyes had turned soft. Tender.
“Fuck, I love you,” he said.
I blinked.
He just said he loved me.
After crashing a motorcycle from a dizzying height.
While on a gurney.
With a crowd full of people watching.
Granted, they likely couldn’t hear him, but the paramedics could.
I could.
He must’ve had a head injury.
I swallowed the butterflies in my throat and steadied myself as the world had gone and tilted since he uttered that sentence.
“If that’s true, you won’t say another word, and you’ll let these nice people take care of you,” I ordered stiffly.
If Kane was upset about me not returning the words, he didn’t show it on his face. He just smiled lazily. “Yes, Chef,” he replied dutifully.
I sagged as the paramedics took this as permission, instantly getting to work on him. Although I rode in the ambulance, I opted to do so in the front. There was no room for me back there. Not with all the equipment, the people trying to help Kane and with those three words.
I was done for.
Kane was alive. For now.
But I feared our relationship was terminal.
Eleven
Considering how it had looked, Kane got off easy. A lot of bruises, a broken wrist and a ruptured spleen were what he had to show for crashing into the ground on a motorcycle flying sixty feet in the air.
I’d vocalized my shock at his injuries and lack of life-threatening ones. Kane had shrugged. “What can I say? I know how to crash, babe.”
It terrified me how blasé he was about death, his proximity to it.
It terrified me and shook at drawers I’d closed, locked and forgotten about inside myself.
The urge to run from him, from this, was tempting. Especially with the ‘I love you’ hanging in the air. My relationships ran their course far before such things could be uttered. I made sure of that.
We were in a private room at Mt Sinai. The room didn’t look so much like a hospital room but a suite at a hotel. I guessed that was what power and money and fame got you. Before this happened, I ranted on about the inadequacy of care in this country, but as horrible as it made me, I was grateful for the treatment Kane was receiving. That Kane had the best doctors in the country making sure they didn’t miss anything. Making sure he didn’t die.