Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

“The surgery only took an hour. We wanted to make sure she could breathe on her own before she had visitors. Everything was textbook. She’s a tough cookie.”

Duh.

I kiss her fingers, running my thumb across her wrist.

“She should be waking up soon.”

My eyes stay on her face, and I wait.

People come and go. Shea pulls up a chair and sits across from me with Posey’s other hand in his. Elli and Shelli have taken up positions on the couch, both on their computers. Unfortunately, Aiden had to head back to the rink for the game. No one even asked me if I was going. I’m just glad we’re all on the same page. I don’t plan on moving from this spot. I reach up, moving a piece of hair out of her face, and when I cup her cheek, she suddenly leans into my hand.

The overwhelming joy that takes over has tears burning my eyes.

Slowly, her senses come to life, and her eyes flutter open. I breaks into a grin, wanting the first thing she sees to be positive. When her blue gaze meets mine, everything inside me breaks, and tears run down my face. In a shaky voice, I whisper, “Hey there, lovely.”

Her brow furrows. “What happened to your mouth?”

I chuckle, standing up and leaning closer to her. “It doesn’t matter. I can still kiss you.”

I press my lips to hers then, and she kisses me back lightly. Her eyes meet mine, and still, her brow is scrunched up. “Did my dad hit you?”

I grin. “He did.”

She shakes her head. Her voice is so husky. It’s super sexy, which I know is wrong of me to think since she’s obviously in pain, but it is. “Sorry. I knew it would be that or a heart attack.”

Shea laughs. “Baby, it was both.”

She looks at her dad, and even though everyone is trying to love on her, my hand stays wrapped around hers.

I could’ve let go, but she didn’t.

So, I don’t.

I never will.

Chapter Thirty-One

Posey

Shelli leans on my bed and gives me her “for real, for real” look. It always cracks me up since her eyes get so big and her brows basically touch her hairline. “You remember that time Dad got super mad at that Reba concert when that guy pushed you? It was like that, but times five hundred. I was worried for Boon’s safety.”

I scoff, shaking my head. “I can’t believe he hit him.”

“It all happened so fast, and Dad was so upset. Boon was too. It was awful.” She leans on her hand. “Good thing is, they’re talking. I never thought they’d go get coffee together.”

A small smile pulls at my lips. Neither one of them has left my side. I feel like it’s a game of who will get up first. I’m pretty sure I heard my dad ask for a bedpan to piss in. I might have been high on drugs—they’ve got me pretty doped up—but I’m convinced I did. I’m in a lot of pain, but I get to go home today, which is exciting. Apparently it isn’t just hotel beds that give me anxiety; it’s all beds that aren’t mine. I’m ready to be in my bed.

I stroke my hand over my stomach and cringe a bit. I am still struggling with what happened. I haven’t been able to talk to Boon about it since my dad has been up our asses, and I hate that I don’t know what he is thinking. I never meant for this to happen; we’ve been pretty safe, but apparently not that safe. All I know is that I’m not upset I was pregnant. I’m upset I lost it, and I’m worried he may be upset I was pregnant.

I never knew, though. It isn’t like I have a consistent period, but it’s taking everything in me not to blame myself for this. I’m pretty sure I had a drink here and there, and it scares me that I caused this. But from what I’ve read on Google, though, it wasn’t my fault. It just happens, but I’m still scared of what Boon is thinking.

He’s been absolutely wonderful. Hasn’t left my side and has been so over-the-top protective. He is always asking questions. Eyeing the nurses like a hawk as if he knows what is going on, and it’s almost comical. He’s helped change my pads, and somehow, he has a constant supply of them. He steals them off carts for when we get home. He says he doesn’t know where to get diaper-size pads, and I don’t either.

He got on to one nurse when she brought me cookies. Apparently, he’s the carb nazi now too. My mom is very proud. He’s been reading up on my thyroid disease and is convinced that dieting with me will help with those extra five pounds he’s carrying. He has been supportive, funny, and kind. So damn kind.