Page 122 of Knight
“Neither do you,” I said fiercely. “You don’t have a choice.”
He looked conflicted. His brain knew I was right, but his heart didn’t agree. I knew too well what that was like. I’d heard many times over that what happened to Flynn wasn’tmyfault. But my heart never believed, either.
“What happens if you lose the fight?” I challenged.
He sighed. “I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”
“They’ll take it out on you,” I guessed. “Another beating?”
Knight hesitated, then nodded. “That’s the deal.”
“Then Ineedto be there. You might need a doctor.”
He hesitated, eyes searching mine. “Are you sure you canhandle seeing all that violence? Even the thought of it has you shaking.”
My stomach turned, but I drew a deep breath and straightened my shoulders. I’d learned to compartmentalize in my ER rotations. I couldn’t lose my shit when patients needed me. And if I could do it for them, I could do it for Knight. He needed me too, whether he admitted it or not.
“I’ll deal with it,” I said. “I can’t let you go without me. Not being there, not knowing what was happening to you, that would be worse. I wish I could talk you out of this or come up with another solution or kill all these guys myself?—”
He gave a startled chuckle.
“But I can’t. All I can do is make sure you survive it.”
He stared at me for a beat, face conflicted. “I hate this.”
“Me too,” I said. “But I won’t let you do this alone. You look out for everyone else. It’s time to let us look out for you.”
He pressed his forehead to mine. “I don’t want you around those scumbags. Don’t want you to see me the way I used to be.”
“I don’t want you around them, either. But I promise I won’t see you that way.” I kissed him. “Because you’re not that man anymore.”
He held my gaze. “I’m not. It helps to know I’ve got something worth fighting for.”
“What’s that?” I asked, almost afraid to hear him say it.
He drew me into a long, tender kiss, saying with his lips the words I wasn’t ready to hear. But I understood him all the same.
Knight was fighting for a life with me. And maybe it was time I figured out how to do the same.
I went byLarry’s room on my lunch break a few hours later. He was looking much better, propped into a seated position in bed with a lunch tray in front of him.
“Ah, just in time for the lime Jell-O,” he said when he saw me. “Want it?”
“You could use the sugar,” I said. “Eat up.”
“Bah, they’ve been checking my glucose levels every five minutes. I’ll be fine.”
I walked to the side of his bed and pulled up the photos on my phone. I showed him the screen. “Proof that Waffles is okay.”
His eyes lit up. “Well, he looks downright happy snuggled up with that man.”
“Will,” I said. “My roommate.”
“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” There was a gleam in his eye. “I thought you younger folks were more progressive.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I guess they’re going to send you home today if you’re feeling well enough to hassle me.”
He chuckled. “I feel a lot better, Doc. I can’t thank you enough for taking care of me and Waffles.”
