Can't Resist Him

by Molly McLain

  “Ah, babe,” he whispered. “I can’t let you see me like this.”

  “Brody, you have to stop saying that. You need me. Please let me help.”

  “What I need is to figure this shit out. I’ll come back to you when I’ve done that. Promise.”

  “You don’t make promises, remember?”

  “Not when I can’t keep them. This is one I intend to keep.”

  Please, God, let that be true. She pounded a fist into the bed and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll wait as long as you need me too, Superman. Why? Because I love your stubborn ass.”

  He gave a shaky, wincing laugh. “Got something to say to you, too, sugar. Saving it for when I see you gorgeous face again.”

  The dam of tears broke and her voice cracked when she spoke. “Then you better make it quick.”

  “Working on it, babe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Turns out that getting smashed in the face a half-dozen times by a couple three-hundred-pound bikers and then thrown into the side of a truck, head first, is actually not as painful as having a catheter stuck around a cock piercing.

  “Can you please take it out?” Brody tried to grab for the nurse as she messed with his IV, but even moving his arm hurt. Everything hurt. His head throbbed.

  “Sorry, handsome. Not until you can get up to go the bathroom on your own.” Martha, a middle-aged woman in mint-green scrubs, patted his shoulder, then leaned over to check something in his hair. He flinched when she touched his scalp, sure her fingers were hot pokers stabbing straight into his brain.

  “Motherf—mmmmm.” He winced in pain, balling his fists into the white bedding.

  “Tender, huh? Yeah, you had quite a gash there. Thankfully the one on your face isn’t as bad. You’ll be pretty again. Eventually.” More shoulder patting. Until she flipped up the blanket, adjusted the catheter tubing, and he damn near went through the roof.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Oh, honey.” She gave him an amused, mildly sympathetic smile. “Maybe I should get you something more for pain. If you keep jumping like that and your ribs will never heal.”

  Fucking hell. “How about a lethal injection? That might take the edge off.”

  She cocked a dark eyebrow. “Now, now, Mr. Nelson. I’m sure your family would disagree.”

  Shit. His family. Someone should probably call his parents...

  “I’ll be back with those meds. Close your eyes. Try to get some rest.” Martha flipped off the lights on her way out the door, but the morning sun still lit the room. Thanks to the Devil Chasers, he’d slept for more than seven hours last night. Unconsciously, sure, but beggars and choosers and all that shit.

  Goddamn, breaking that bottle had been stupid. Even if it had given him exactly what he wanted—physical pain powerful enough to make him forget the other kind. There was never any way getting roughed up was going to solve his problems. Starting a brawl wasn’t any different than getting wasted every chance he could, because when the buzz wore off, he was still left with the same damn guilt. A crooked nose, a cracked skull, bruised ribs, and one hell of a friggin’ hospital bill this time around, too.

  The door to his room cracked open again and Sam strolled in with a cup of to-go coffee in hand. The asshole gave an exaggerated grimace and leisurely dropped into a chair at the end of the bed. “That little cat nap sure as hell didn’t make you any more beautiful, that’s for sure.”

  “Fuck you.” Brody looked around the room for a mirror. Then again, if he looked anything like he felt, maybe he didn’t want to see just how messed up he was. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

  “Aren’t you?” his buddy countered, eyebrow cocked. “I lucked out and your little stunt got me the day off. Thanks for that. I definitely got the better end of this deal, bro.”

  Bastard. “What’d you tell Steve?” Not that he really needed to ask—he could hear their boss’s voice loud and clear, “Way to waste my time and money, Nelson. You know who pays your insurance policy, right?”

  “Told him that you fell down some stairs and rolled into a truck. I mean, it’s not entirely a lie.” Sam shrugged and Brody laughed, which hurt like a mother. Shouldn’t Martha be back by now?

  Sam kicked back in the chair, ankles crossed. “So, you feel better now? Worked that poison out of your system?”

  Probably not. “Guess we’ll see.”

  “You ever plan on telling your folks about the PTSD? They’ll probably be here any time now. You might want to put some thought into how you’re going to explain this.”

  So Sam had called them. Damn. In the back of his mind, he’d kinda hoped Jenny would be the only other person to hear about this. “What’s to explain? I got my ass kicked. Not the first time it’s happened. Probably won’t be the last.”

  Sam laughed. “What’s so bad about just telling them the truth? Maybe that’s what you need. Get it all out and wipe the slate clean.”

  If it were that simple, he would have done it months ago. “Didn’t work that way with Jenn,” he grumbled, wishing the death metal band in his head would take a smoke break.

  “Worked for a little while.”

  “Not really.”

  “You’re full of shit. You were right there—right friggin’ there—until your granddad passed.” Sam squeezed his fingers together, then threw his arm in the air. “Then poof. Back to the miserable, pissed-off-at-the-world son-of-a-bitch just like that.”

  Brody shook his head, but stopped when the room began to spin and the tender area beneath his stitches started to throb more reverently. “Not pissed at the world, dude—just myself.”

  “Why? You said yourself that he was gone before you even got to him. Aneurysms don’t wait around for heroes, man. It was his time and you know damn well he’d say the same thing if he were here right now. Same with Ernie and Troy. Same with you if one of those guys would have actually wanted to fuck you up last night.”

  Nothing to argue on that last point. He’d long ago accepted the fact that if he went, he went. The guy upstairs was in charge of that, not him. That’s why he never had a problem shipping out to parts unknown, with God only knew what in store. There were some things in life you could control, and some you couldn’t.

  “Ah, Mr. Conrad, you snuck in on me.” Martha sashayed back into the room with a little medicine cup full of pills. “I’m afraid I’m going to have ask you to step out. Mr. Nelson has other visitors.”

  His parents. Shit, this wasn’t going to go well. His mother would freak out the second she saw him. “I need a couple minutes,” Brody spoke up, trying to sit a little straighter in bed to no avail.

  Sam gave a salute and walked out, and Martha helped him down the pills before she propped another pillow behind his back.

  “You ready for this?” she asked kindly.

  “Not really, but it’s inevitable.” And something he hadn’t thought about last night, though he should have. Of course his folks would rush down after Sam called. He’d acted like a dumb ass, but he was still alive. They still had a son. He still had them.

  Martha smiled and gave his blanket a quick straighten before she headed out again. “By the way, she’s a very pretty girl.”

  Brody frowned. “Who?”

  “Your girlfriend.”

  Ah, hell.

  ***

  Jenny jumped up from a chair when Sam stepped inside the waiting room. “Thought you weren’t coming, lil’ mama.”

  “So I lied. Is he awake yet?” She wrung her hands together, sure she’d jump out of her too-tight skin any second now. Since leaving River Bend, her emotions had run the gamut...and then again because nine hours was a long time to drive all alone.

  “Yeah, they had him on morphine so he could sleep, but he’s coming around now. He looks like hell, but he’s still the same stubborn ass he’s always been, so I guess that’s a good sign. The concussion is confirmed and they want to keep him for observation. Make sure there isn’t any cranial swelling from
the gash he’s got. You’ll see it. It’s real fucking pretty.” He narrowed his eyes and shook a finger at her. “I like you. You’re good for him.”

  “If only he would accept that.” She shot an anxious glance at the hallway.

  “Go on. But don’t say I didn’t warn—”

  She was gone before he finished talking.

  ***

  She floated into the room looking like an angel dressed in a flowing, long-sleeved white top and pale pink leggings that matched her swollen eyes. It broke his fucking heart that he’d caused them, but he couldn’t look away because this girl was, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  She was his fucking everything. And she was here. For him.

  Hand over her mouth, she cried the second she saw him. His chest constricted, watching her face contort and, if he could have, he’d have been out that bed in a second, pulling her close and promising he’d never let her go again. For a split second, he thought maybe it wasn’t so impossible, because just seeing her...damn. Breathing was easier, the pain pulsing through his head suddenly didn’t seem so bad, and he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe last night wasn’t a mistake because it had ultimately brought her back to him.

  “Sugar...” he rasped, his hands shaking with the overwhelming need to soothe away her pain. “Aw, baby, don’t cry.”

  She shook her head and stared, taking him in from head to toe with damp eyes. He could only imagine what she saw. “Look at you. My God, Brody, why?”

  He lifted a fist, then let it drop, hitting his thigh hard. He couldn’t make excuses with Jenny. She’d see through every one of them and, more than that, he didn’t want to lie to her. Not again. “Seemed like a like a good idea at the time.”

  “Only you would think getting beat up would be a good idea.” She came closer, lingering at the foot of the bed. Reluctant because of how awful he looked or because he’d been an ass the last time they’d seen each other?

  “Thought I told you not to come.” He swallowed and reached for his water. If he couldn’t touch her, he’d need to keep his hands busy. He might do something stupid otherwise. Like climb off that damn bed, let down the hair piled on top of her head and slide his fingers through it just to reassure himself she was really here and not just a concussed hallucination.

  “Decided I didn’t want to play by your rules anymore.” She studied his face again and all he could do was sit there and let her see how broken he was. He was supposed to be her protector, not the one she continually went to battle for.

  The feeling wasn’t unfamiliar. Hell, hadn’t he always felt that way with Jenny? A contradictory mix of both responsibility and vulnerability that confused the hell out of him at the same time it grounded him.

  “You drove all night,” he said stupidly, for the sake of saying something to distract himself from the obvious—pushing Jenny out of his life was never going to work for him.

  She nodded and self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t slept. I’m sure I look awful.”

  Awful? Was she serious? “You’re fucking beautiful. Always. God, babe, come here already, will you?”

  Her brow creased and she cocked her head to the side, looking at him beneath heavy eyelids. “Brody, listen, I meant what I said last night. I’m not sure if you remember or not, but—”

  “You love me.” He beat her to the punch. The memory of her saying those sweet words had been on repeat in his head since they’d spilled off her lips. His new all-time favorite song.

  She bit her trembling lips together and nodded. “I love you. Because of that, I can’t let you do this alone anymore. I know you think you have to—”

  “I’m over that.”

  Her eyes went wide as she inched closer to him. Like she wasn’t sure she believed him but desperately wanted to. He snagged her wrist and pulled her to his side, but it wasn’t close enough. Stupid fucking hospital bed.

  “The fight changed your mind?” She stroked the backs of her fingers along his cheekbone and the affection in her touch lit his chest on fire.

  “Isn’t a fight if you don’t hit back.”

  She gave a soft sigh, then leaned down to press her lips to his forehead. “Oh, Brody, what am I going to do with you?”

  “Keep loving me?” he asked sheepishly and a small whimper crackled in her throat.

  “Aw, baby, that’s a given.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Brody looked like he’d been through hell and back, and it was all Jenny could do not to break down and have a blubbering cry-fest right there in front of him. What the heck had he been thinking last night? Did he think fighting would eradicate the evils that refused to stop haunting him?

  Though she didn’t believe violence was ever the answer to anything, the air around him did seem lighter, his pain aside. Was it because of the fight? Or had the past few weeks of mental anguish finally come to a head? Regardless, the change in him was palpable, and only time would tell if it had the lasting effects he needed.

  The nurse knocked on the door a few minutes later. She introduced herself, and gave Jenny the full report on Brody’s condition, including the doctor’s orders that he stay another night, to monitor his head injury. Even though Brody had scoffed about it, Martha insisted on showing her the stitches. The site and the partially shaven hair around it weren’t pretty, but she imagined they were better than the alternative.

  “So, that’s the scoop, in a nutshell, sweetie. You’re welcome to stay the night if you’d like. I can have housekeeping bring in a reclining chair and some blankets before my shift ends,” Martha offered, untucking the bedding from around Brody’s legs. “But I do suggest you step out for this next part. You may never look at your man the same again.”

  Brody groaned. “Thank friggin’ God. Just get the damn thing out of me before I yank it myself.”

  Huh? Jenny frowned at Martha.

  “Catheter,” the woman explained. “I’m sure you can guess why it’s so uncomfortable.”

  Oh, sweet Jesus. “I’ll definitely go.”

  “But not far, right? I’ve still got something to say to you.”

  She paused at Brody’s hoarse plea, a slow, punch drunk smile settling onto her lips. “Oh, I know you do. Don’t think I’ll let you off the hook so easily this time.”

  He blew her a kiss and she left him to Martha’s evil torture.

  She found herself a cup of strong coffee and a chocolate chip muffin in the cafeteria, and when she returned to the medical floor, Brody’s parents were at the front desk, asking a million questions. From the sound of things, the unit clerk couldn’t give them the information they wanted.

  “Brian. Lena.” She called for their attention and they glanced her way, looking just as exhausted as she felt.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so glad you’re here.” Lena hurried over and threw her arms around Jenny’s shoulders, rattling off her concerns without coming up for air. “Have you seen him? Is he still awake? What happened? Sam said it was bad.”

  “He’s not great, but there’s nothing wrong that time won’t heal.” She held his mother a few seconds longer. She understood the urgency. Had felt the fear.

  Lena pulled back and swiped at her tears. “He may be a grown man, but he’s still my baby.”

  “I know.” Jenny smiled softly. “I swear that was the longest drive of my life.”

  Brian ruffled her shoulder. “I’ll get us a couple of hotel rooms for the night. We’ll all need sleep sooner than later.”

  “I actually planned on staying here.” Though a nap someplace other than a hospital chair sounded fabulous. She wouldn’t complain, though. Brody sleeping only a few feet away would be worth whatever aches and pains she felt in the morning.

  “You are so good to him.” Lena’s eyes filled with another round of tears and it occurred to Jenny that he hadn’t told his parents about their break-up. “He’s had a rough go of it since he came home from his last deployment. He refused to talk
about any of it and it seemed like he was just getting worse and worse. Until you came along.”

  She shook her head, because in hindsight, Brody had already been on a mission to reclaim his life. All she’d done was show up at the right time and offer support. And ultimately her heart.

  “It’s been a really hard few months for him,” she said quietly. “But he’s come a long way.”

  Martha emerged from Brody’s room down the hall and approached with a kind smile on her face. “He’s a Marine, that’s for sure. Tough as nails.”

  And then some. “Would you mind giving his parents an update while I let him know they’re here? Maybe give him a little warning?”

  The cheery woman chuckled. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson? I’m Martha...”

  Jenny slipped away as the nurse corralled Lena and Brian into a consultation room. She found Brody leaning back in bed with his eyes closed. Despite the purple and red bruising on his face, he looked completely at peace.

  “My nose must not be as bad as it feels,” he said, without moving. “I can smell you from across the room.”

  “I’m not wearing perfume.”

  “Mmm, I know.” Rolling his head to the side, he opened his eyes and crooked a finger at her. “Come, baby. Be close to me.”

  “Your parents are here.”

  He patted the blanket beside his lap. “Uh huh. Need to touch you first.”

  This man. She pulled a chair to the side of the bed and gently brushed the hair back from his forehead. The gash above his eyebrow would leave a dandy scar and, sadly, whoever had shaved him last night lacked serious finesse. “You could stand a new haircut.”

  “I noticed. Help me with that?”

  Her breath lodged in her chest and it took her the longest second to respond, because touching Brody like that? God. A million times more intimate than putting her hands to work on someone else. “Absolutely, handsome.”