“I’ll take care of you. I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.
After placing a soft kiss on her cheek, Seth eased off the mattress.
Wearing the sweat pants he’d borrowed from Beck, he left the bed, found a spare toothbrush in the bathroom, then padded to the kitchen. The clock told him it was just shy of eleven. A fresh pot of coffee sat in the brewer, beside two empty mugs. Seth filled one and peered out the window to see Beck sitting in a lounge chair on the balcony, sipping coffee and staring out at the Pacific.
Steeling himself for the unavoidable conversation, Seth tugged the sliding door open.
“Morning,” Beck greeted. “Come on out and join me.”
The ocean view shimmering under the bright Los Angeles sun was killer. Below them, the waves rolled and tumbled onto the sand. “It doesn’t suck to wake up to this.”
Beck smirked. “It’s not so bad. Is Heavenly…”
“Still asleep.” He sat down in the other empty chair, still staring out at the shimmering blue water. An awkward silence stretched between them. “Any word on Abel?”
“He’s in stable condition. They’re running tests now. The head of neurology has requested his records from the VA. Once Litchfield has gone over all that, I suspect we’ll be making arrangements to move him to a rehab facility, but we’ll wait and see what he recommends.”
“Knowing her father is getting the right treatment should be a huge weight off Heavenly’s shoulders. I’m sure she’ll appreciate all you’re doing for her and her dad.”
“Maybe, but I worry she’ll resist not living under the same roof with him. I already know she’s going to fight the fact that we intend to take care of her.”
“After everything you said last night…I’m prepared for that.” He stared at the ocean some more.
When he lifted his mug of coffee, Seth accidentally bumped his hand on the edge of the table. Pain shot up his arm. He winced, sucking in a sharp breath. The battered flesh around his knuckles ripped open. Blood seeped from the wound, staining the ridges around his sore, swollen joints.
Beck tsked. “Let me see that.”
“I cleaned it out last night.” Seth waved him away. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” Beck snagged his wrist and inspected the gash. “You need a couple stitches. Sit tight. I’ll get my bag.”
“I don’t need any damn stitches.” Seth was as fond of needles as he was of California sliding into the damn ocean, but kept that to himself.
“You a doctor now?” Beck challenged.
“Shut up.”
“Why don’t you, before you accidentally wake Heavenly?”
Cursing, he watched the doctor shoot out of his seat and into the condo. When he returned with a backpack, Seth fidgeted, sending up a silent prayer not to puke.
Beck dragged his chair closer before unzipping his pack. Then he prepared antiseptic, a needle and thread, and a sterile bandage. Though the morning was cool, sweat began dripping down Seth’s back. His stomach pitched like a damn Tilt-A-Whirl.
“It’ll only sting a little for a minute.”
“Aren’t you going to numb it or something first?” Seth insisted between choppy breaths.
“If you’re going to ask me that, you might as well hand me your man card. Jesus, it’s only a couple of stitches.”
“Yeah, in my skin.”
“Okay, I’ll give you a numbing spray.” He withdrew a little bottle, and a fine mist of something sterile-smelling settled over the back of his hand. “Will that do or should I call you a wah-mulance.”
“Your bedside manner sucks.”
Beck laughed. “Sit back and close your eyes.”
Seth dropped his lids and focused on breathing slowly, filling his mind with the most distracting visions of Heavenly he could fathom. He felt a tiny pinprick, then a tug at his knuckles, then nothing.
“How many teeth do you figure Sanchez has left now?” Beck filled the silence.
“Maybe enough to strain his oatmeal for the next few weeks.” Seth smiled. “But hopefully not. I notice you beat him with your feet instead of your hands. Smart.”
“Can’t damage the fingers. They’ve earned me this amazing view.” He fell quiet again as Seth felt another gentle pull on his flesh. “I still can’t believe the power behind your punches. You should have been a fucking boxer.”
“Nah, I don’t like my brains being scrambled.”
“I have to admit, I enjoyed mangling that bastard. What he expected from Heavenly was fucked up. I think that’s what made mashing his dick under my heel so much fun.”
Seth grunted in response. “What did you do with our bloody clothes?”
“Trashed them. I got rid of the evidence in the community dumpster this morning.”
“The police won’t look too hard for us. They’ll probably think it was a drug deal gone bad or gang retaliation. That kind of shit goes down all the time, and Sanchez is hardly the innocent-victim type. So the cops will save their resources for someone who actually needs them.”
“That’s good news.” Seth heard Beck snip at something, then the doctor slathered his knuckles with a thick ointment, covered it with a bandage, then sat back. “You’re done.”
Seth opened his eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
Already, it felt less angry.
“Thanks. You could have been a real dick about it and stabbed me.” Instead, Beck had used a surprisingly gentle hand.
“I thought about it.”
Seth reached for his coffee again. When Beck went inside to wash his hands, he tried to get his head together.
They needed to talk. Last night, they’d only danced around the elephant in the room. Now it was time to look the bitch in the face and tango.
Beck stepped out onto the balcony again. “She’s still sleeping.”
Just as well. “She needs it. And we need this time to figure things out.”
“You give everything I said last night more thought?” Beck slid into his chair.
“Yeah. Kind of hard not to.” Seth dragged in a shuddering breath and paused. Once he went down this path, he couldn’t go back, not unless Heavenly sent him in another direction. And the more he thought about Beck’s theories, the more he suspected that would never happen.
For the foreseeable future at least, she needed them both.
“And?”
Seth
