Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Jesus,” Micah grumbles. “If you two are going to be all hearts and flowers and shit all the time, I may object to this just to spare myself.”
“It’s what she deserves,” Archer says, shrugging.
Micah grumbles under his breath, but he isn’t mad. For once…I think we’re actually okay. I see it in his eyes. Acceptance. Amusement. Peace. He’s done being stubborn and unreasonable.
Tears well in my eye, spilling over.
“What the fuck?” Micah looks at me, slightly horrified. “I’m just kidding, Wren. I’m not going to be an asshole. Please don’t cry.”
“She’s happy,” Archer says, stepping up beside the bed.
“She’s crying,” my brother complains.
“Yeah. She does that when she’s happy.”
Micah looks to me for confirmation, but all I can do is nod and sniffle. It seems to mollify him, though. He shakes his head, climbing to his feet. “I’m going to call Mom and Dad to let them know you’re okay. Archer can sit with you,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. He lingers there for a moment. “I’m sorry, baby sister. And I’m happy for you.”
I hiccup through a sob.
Micah backs away with his hands in the air. “Yep. That’s my cue to get the fuck out of here.” He shoots a look at Archer. “You got it from here, man?”
“Yeah,” Archer says, not even looking at him. He’s too busy staring at me, just like always. “I’ve got her from here.”
More happy tears well, spilling down my cheeks. Archer shakes his head, a soft smile on his face as he slips into the chair Micah just abandoned, reaching out to dry my cheeks.
“What am I going to do with you, little bird?” he asks, his voice soft.
“Love me.”
“Simple.” He leans forward, brushing his lips against mine. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, Wren.”
Chapter Fifteen
Archer
Three Weeks Later
“Archer,” Wren groans, scowling daggers at me as I scoop her up into my arms at the bottom of the steps leading to the spectator area at the practice arena. “I can walk!”
“Mmhmm.” I brush my lips across her temple, tucking her up against my chest. “And I can carry you. So hush and let your husband have his way, little bird.”
I might be going overboard, but I don’t really care. She’s been having blinding headaches ever since the accident and tires out easily. Aside from that, she’s recovering well. The bruises are all but gone. The gash on her forehead is healing nicely. She’s pretty much back to normal.
Her doctor doesn’t think there is any permanent damage, thank God. But I still fucking worry. I’ll always worry.
The fact that Charles Montaque has been hanging around, trying to get the inside scoop on what happened in Detroit doesn’t make me worry any less. As if we’ll ever fucking tell him.
Because of him, she was released with a bevy of reporters waiting outside the hospital, waiting to catch a glimpse of us together. For that reason alone, Montaque will always be a prick in my book. She deserved privacy, and she had none because of him. She hasn’t had any in three weeks. I’m not letting him ambush her again.
I am surprised, though. Montaque didn’t drag me through the mud when he broke the news about our marriage and my role in Helping Hands, leaving very little for Alice to clean up.
“My husband is a pain in my–”
I cut Wren off with my lips on hers, earning cheers and catcalls from my idiot teammates as they emerge from the back of the arena. I ignore them, all my attention on the woman in my arms. At least until Micah’s voice rises above the rest.
“That’s enough already!” he growls. “Stop fucking kissing my sister, Graves.”
He’s not mad, though. I hear the amusement in his voice. It’s a change, a good one. Things between the two of us are almost back to normal. He bitches at me to keep my hands off his sister at every available opportunity. I ignore the fuck out him, also at every available opportunity.
She may be his sister, but she’s my wife, my world. I hold all the aces here.
I think he knows it.
We had a long fucking talk while she slept on the plane on the way home from Detroit after she was released. He apologized again for being a dick. I swore to take care of her for the rest of my life. He threatened to murder me if I didn’t. And I agreed to let him.
It won’t ever come to that, though. I came too close to losing her in Detroit. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that shit never happens again. I’ve told her everything now. The worst of my sins are out there…and she’s still here. She still chose me.
I may not deserve it, but I’m not questioning it, either. I’m not a complete idiot. The woman of my dreams loves that I’m wild about her. She loves that I’m a little fucking unhinged when it comes to her. I’m rolling with it.