The End - Blackbird book 7

16

She tried to move and Brock dropped himself on his side of the bed, rolling over to lay flat on his back. That seemed the best position to catch his breath.

At least you didn't have a heart attack, his sarcasm commented as he could only stare blankly at the ceiling. Yeah, true, but the way his waist and legs felt, he was out of the game for years.

Well, that's what you get for playing the stallion, Brockner. But cheer up, you made it to Wednesday morning. Meaning it's time for Wednesday breakfast.

He closed his eyes. Now? What about Wednesday brunch? Or dinner? He was pretty sure that if he tried to get out of bed and stand up, his knees would give in and he'd end up sprawled on the floor.

At his right, Gillian realized that her hands still held a tight grip on the headboard's lower bar. She needed a minute to convince her fingers to let go. Then she managed to turn to face Brock. Damn man! She felt like a frigging drag doll stuffed with rocks. Did he keep a stash of blue pills at hand? If so, she really hoped he'd run out of them, because her bones wouldn't take another round any time soon. Maybe next month, if she could find a good physiotherapist... Something twitched inside her at the 'next month' bit. Four weeks without feeling any of this? No way. She'd rather end up chained to a wheelchair.

It was a little comforting to see he seemed in need of an oxygen mask. His hand hanging off the edge of the bed, the serious scowl on top of his closed eyes, his chest pumping up and down as if he'd just finished a pentathlon. It was good, not being the only one feeling and looking like crap.

Anyway, what the hell was he doing, so far from her? There was a five-inch gap between them! She talked her hand into traveling such a long way only by promising a quick landing. So her numb arm stretched out to rest her hand on his chest.

Brock opened his eyes when she touched him and faced her.

"Sorry," he repeated, still out of breath in a way she thought lovely. "I didn't mean to be so rude."

Swear you're gonna be this rude every morning. Wait. After I start on heavy vitamins. "It's okay," she murmured with a tired smile.

His lips curled up in response, which made Gillian want to kiss him—had she been able to move that much. He grabbed her hand and took it to his mouth, kissing the back of her fingers.

"Breakfast?" he asked.

The fangirl hopped and waved red pompoms. "Wednesday breakfast?" she murmured.

Brock nodded, his smile warm enough to melt her away.

"May I use your shower again, first?"

"Sure. Take all the time you need, I'll take care of breakfast." You don't want her around in case your old joints betray you, huh? "Wanna have it in bed?"

The picture was too clear in Gillian's head—breakfast spilled all over the covers and the floor around, if he came near her in bed. Another picture kicked that one away, adding to her reasons to shake her head.

"No, no need."

Lucky Brockner, she just spared you a rush to change the sheets that could've killed you in the state you're in.

"Okay..." Oh, but now you gotta get up. C'mon, champ, take it like a man and move your stallion ass outta bed.

He needed a moment to unlock his eyes from hers and her sweet smile. The best way he found to achieve it was brushing her lips in a quick kiss. The aching pricks down his back when he leaned to her were the best persuasion to leave it there. Sitting up to fling his legs over the edge of the bed was not easy a mission either, yet he managed not to groan in pain. Bending over to grab his pajamas bottom from the floor made him feel every vertebra along his spine. And the burning barbed wire winding up around it, from his waist to the back of his head. The pain pushed him to his feet too fast, pulling up his bottoms in the process. And he lingered fastening them to give his head time to stop spinning.

Really, Brockner, you're a dinosaur—nothing but old bones scattered in a dig. Forget about slippers, barefoot is safer.

He glanced over his shoulder as he pointed at the drawer chest. "Feel free to grab whatever you need, some bottoms, a tee, anything," he said, all soft and smiling to hide his aches, and headed out.