Pushing away from Screw far enough so I can cup his face in my damp hands, I say, “You’re real? I’m alive?”
Screw scowls over his shoulder at Brody. “What the hell have you been telling her?”
Brody shakes his head.
“The asshole hasn’t said anything yet,” supplies Bedlam, done with his laughing fit and returned to his sentry position by the door.
For a second time, the door bursts open. In walks Ace carrying a massive bear wearing a T-shirt with the words “Get Well Soon” across the front while close behind him shuffles Zamara. In both her hands, she balances cartons holding four coffee cups a piece.
“She doesn’t need a bear, Ace,” she complains.
“But it will definitely cheer up that drab room Brody placed her in,” he throws over his shoulder at her.
“It’s for her own protection.” She pauses, then shrugs. “Well, not anymore. From the report I read this morning, we got the last of the….” Her voice trails off when she finally glances at my bed. Ace freezes in place as well with that ridiculous bear in his arms.
“The last of what?” I sniff, swiping at the last of my tears. There’s no way I’m thinking I’m not alive after seeing the both of them. The group is complete. This can’t be hell.
“You haven’t told her?” Zamara asks Brody incredulously.
My strong mentor sinks deeper into his chair, lifting his hand for one of the coffee cups. Zamara places the cartons on the table and hands him one.
Ace plops the bear at the foot of my bed and says with a cheeky grin, “Glad you’re back.”
“I’m apparently alive,” I let myself admit aloud. The truth of it hits me so hard I start to weep again. Groans float around the room. I sniff and wipe at my face in a miserable attempt to pull myself together. “I’m sorry.” I choke on a laugh. “I’m so sorry. I’m usually tougher than this.”
“You survived a week in the hands of that bastard Star called a father,” Mac bites out. “The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”
The way he asks the question breaks the last of the tension in the room. In seconds, laughter fills every available space. Ace replaces Screw on my bed, and I welcome the hug, no matter how much my aching joints remind me I should be lying down.
Zamara switches with Mac at my other side and plants a soft kiss on my cheek. I grab her hand before she straightens and say, “This is my second chance, right? I get to start over?”
The smile she gives me is brighter than the light from the sun. “Yes,” she says with a nod. “Whatever you want.” But the joy in her face is short-lived. She sobers quickly and adds, “But before all that, my father wants to speak with you if you’re up to it.”
Chapter Thirty-One
ACCORDING TO Brody, after he got over the initial shock that hit him when I finally woke up, I spent a total of three months at the hospital. The entire time under sedation so my body healed without my brain having to deal with the emotional trauma. I’ll have to go to therapy for that. Whoopee. Not looking forward to it.
The technicians at Punishment Square that day weren’t techs at all. They were the doctors assigned to take care of me, ensure I get better from the injuries I suffered under the underboss’s hospitality. They even did something to my ankle that ensured the bone mended faster than normal. All cutting-edge shit that when Mac attempted to explain, my brain died.
Last night had been when they finally stopped the sedation. It took several hours for the drugs to leave my system and for me to wake up. That’s why Bedlam and Brody kept vigil. When I asked them about what they were obviously keeping from me, everyone suddenly suffered from cat-got-their-tongue syndrome. This then forced me to take my chances with the boss. He wanted to see me anyway, so why not right now?
After a couple of hours of consultations with my doctors, a buttload of powerful painkillers, and a promise to return as soon as my meeting ended, I dress with Zamara’s help. We can’t figure out what to do with the leggings because of my cast. When Bedlam pokes his head in to ask what’s taking us so long, he notices our dilemma and takes one leg of my leggings in both hands. In a sharp tug, he rips the seam along the side up to the knee, muttering the entire time. I give him a peck on the cheek for his troubles, which lightens his sour mood considerably. His being left out of the plan really affected his ego, or so Zamara tells me. I push for info on the big secret, but she clams up like the rest of them, just saying it would be best if her father explains.
Once ready, I refuse the use of the wheelchair a nurse brings. Limping as best I can, I make it as far as the elevator before collapsing against Screw. My chief mechanic takes pity on me and scoops me up like I weigh nothing. I’m still severely underweight from my ordeal, which became a concern for my doctors. They almost refused my leaving the hospital. If Brody hadn’t reassured them of my return, I wouldn’t be heading for the entrance with the most important people in my life. The group discusses merrily about some sort of “welcome back to the land of the living” party while I concentrate on not thinking about my GT. That’s one loss I’m not ready to deal with. Not after just waking up. Maybe in therapy.
Once we pass the sliding doors at the front of the hospital, Screw pauses. Everyone suddenly stops speaking. I tilt my head up to look him in the face. He grins down at me like he just ate a juicy piece of steak. My stomach grumbles at
