Asshole.
She hadn’t said that, but he heard it all the same. And he deserved it, too. Fuck, he hadn’t meant the question to sound the way it did. As if he didn’t want her there, when really he just couldn’t figure out why she was. Or why she’d agreed even if he’d asked. After all, before that truck took him for a spin, Sean had fuckin’ hurt her. “Ignore me. I’m an asshole.”
She rolled her eyes. “You don’t say. I think I liked you better when you were high.”
He searched his brain for what she was talking about but came up empty. A lot after the too-close image of that truck’s grill was a blank at the moment…
Dani crossed her arms, putting up another line of defense. “Let’s just say you were channeling Ryan Gosling.”
He frowned. “Gosling? You mean Reynolds? Was I was quoting ‘Deadpool’?” Shit, he couldn’t remember that at all.
That actually got a little laugh out of her. “You can quote ‘Deadpool’?”
Hell, yeah, he could. “If I ever decide to become a crime-fighting shit swizzler who rooms with a bunch of other little whiners at Neverland Mansion with some creepy, old, bald, Heaven’s Gate-looking motherfucker, on that day, I’ll send your shiny, happy ass a friend request.” He was breathing a little hard by the end of the line, but it still made him grin—well as close to a grin as he could manage given how he felt.
Dani blinked. Then made a face. “That’s ‘Deadpool’?”
Inside his head, Sean heard a record scratch. “Are you fuckin’ telling me you haven’t seen ‘Deadpool’?” Just that little bit of excitement had him grasping his chest. “Fuck, this sucks.”
“I know,” she said. “And nope, I haven’t.”
“Your ‘Deadpool’ inexperience is literally killing me. And unlike Wade, I won’t come back to life.”
She frowned, confusion plain on her face. “You’re saying words, but I have no idea what they mean.”
“Jesus Christmas. ‘Deadpool’ is a goddamn masterpiece.”
Dani shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell ya.”
“That is unsat, D. Unfuckingsat.”
A nurse in pink scrubs breezed into the room. “Well, good morning, Mr. Riddick. You’re looking better today.” The older woman smiled at Daniela. “Hi, Dani, how are ya, hon?”
“Hi, Patricia,” Dani said, moving toward the end of the bed as if to get out of the way.
“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” Sean said, trying to smile at the lady.
“A box truck, the way I hear it,” Patricia said, giving him a wink before she busied herself noting down his vitals. “Can you tell me where your pain is at on a scale of zero to ten, with ten being the worst in your life?”
He glanced at Dani, then down at his hands again. “Eh, maybe a four.”
“And how about when you cough?” Dani asked. Her voice was completely neutral, so why did he feel like she was challenging him?
He frowned. “I don’t know. Maybe a five.”
Her eyes called bullshit so damn loud.
“Or a six. When will we know something about my eye?” He cared far more about that.
“The doc will be here in a while,” the nurse said. “He’ll be able to tell you more. In the meantime, I’ll get you some more pain medication.”
“That’s okay. I can manage without it,” he said. The nurse gave him a look. And damnit if Dani wasn’t giving him the same look. But he didn’t want to rely on pain meds. He knew too many guys who’d had trouble getting off them once they started.
It was Dani who spoke. “Sean, you need to stay ahead of the pain with meds for at least the first few days. You’re not feeling the full impact of that chest wall injury yet because you have meds in your system.”
He sighed. Debated. But didn’t have the energy to fight. “Fine.”
The nurse nodded. “I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks.” He blew out a frustrated breath as Patricia left the room, then reached for his cup, belatedly remembering his useless hands. “Fuck, I should’ve asked if these bandages could come off. Or are my paws stitched up, too?”
Dani held his water cup again as she said, “No stitches, just lots of abrasions.”
He released the straw and caught a drip of water on his chin with the gauze on the back of his hand. “Thanks. Can we look then? Not even being able to suck a straw on my own is a pain in the ass.”
“It’s not the sucking that’s your problem. It’s the holding the cup.” She reached out a hand toward one of his.
A slow grin tugged at his face. “You’re right. I’m good at the sucking.” He waggled his one eyebrow. He might be fucked up at the moment, but he never could pass up an opportunity for some good innuendo. And maybe given his current condition, she’d give him a little leeway on it.