I’d come home from hospital two days ago, a day after my father had also come home. Yvette had to go away for a week for work, so Carla had taken it upon herself to move in for the week to help Dad and me while we recovered. I hadn’t argued. The thought of having her with me twenty-four seven made me happy.
We were battling over my desire to help her cook dinner. I didn’t want her doing everything around the house, but that was exactly what she’d been doing for the past forty-eight hours.
I slid my hand around her waist and tried to pull her to me. Pain shot through my body and I did my best not to show it. When she moved closer, I said, “Do you really think it’s gonna take me that long to recover? Not fuckin’ likely.”
She placed her hands on my chest, being careful not to touch my wound and to only touch me very gently.
Fuck, she’s treating me with fucking kid gloves.
I hated that.
“Havoc, you’re not invincible. You have to let me help you for awhile.” Her voice was soft and reminded me that she was going through this too. I might have suffered the pain and would be the one to do the physical recovery, but she’d suffered the mental and emotional turmoil that went with it.
I dropped a kiss onto her lips. “Okay.”
Her eyes widened. “Why was that so easy?”
I chuckled. “Fuck knows.”
Dad entered the kitchen. “Is he giving you shit, sweetheart?”
Carla grinned. She and Dad hit it off the minute they met. They’d bonded over their mutual goal of making my life hell during my recovery. “He’s always giving me shit, Al.”
Dad nodded as he reached into the fridge for some juice. “Sounds like my son.”
I sat at the table where she’d told me to. “Pass me the potatoes. I’ll peel and chop them.”
“I’ve got this,” Carla said, clearly exasperated with me. “You just sit there and rest.”
I decided to give her that even though it went against every one of my instincts.
Dad sat with me because she’d made it clear to both of us that she didn’t want our help around the house while we recovered. The doctors had sent him home with instructions to improve his eating and exercise. He’d stopped caring about either of those things over the past couple of months. A psychologist had spent some time with him while in hospital. She confirmed my fears that he’d given up on life. I’d expected him to come home
in a cranky mood, and he had, but it hadn’t lasted long. Carla had snapped him out of it pretty fast while I’d sat in awe of her skills.
“Heard that bed creakin’ last night,” he said. “Pretty sure the doc wouldn’t be too happy about that.” The old man always tried to stir shit up.
Carla threw me a wink and replied, “Al, for an old man you’ve got good hearing, but I can assure you Havoc wasn’t doing any of the work.”
“There was no fuckin’ work going on, darlin’, and that was the only problem about last night,” I grumbled. The doctor had given me strict instructions for no sex until at least my next appointment, which was in five days. They’d discuss it then and see how I was. I’d tried to talk Carla into a little action, but she was strictly following his orders.
“She’s just like your mother, son. No way would she go near my dick if the doctor told her not to. Bloody women.”
Carla laughed while I shook my head. “Dad, I’m all for sex and shit, but hearing about you and mum and your dick isn’t on my list of things I ever need to know.”
He shrugged. “Carla doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Nope, you talk about whatever you want, Al. I’m actually a bit surprised at your son. For a man who has the dirtiest mouth I’ve ever heard and all the right moves, you’d think he could talk about dicks till the cows come home.”
Dad grinned at me. Jerking his thumb at her, he said, “She’s a keeper, boy. You need a woman like her to keep you in line.”
I watched the smile spread across her face while Dad sat in front of me with a grin on his. For the first time in fuck knew how long, a sense of peace settled over me.
This was what happiness looked like.
I’d forgotten that somewhere along the way.
* * *