Page 91 of Bastard Bartender

I whip my head at him with a deep scowl on my face. “Probation! Wait, when did you get a lawyer?” I ask, confused.

“Nic had to call him because the jump was against the law. Getting airlifted makes it hard to hide your illegal jump,” Logan explains coolly.

This entire situation is a little bit of a mindfuck right now. We went from Nic might not wake up from a coma to Nic has a lawyer so he can avoid charges and go on his next jump. I rake my fingers through my hair as I look at the four of them and wonder if I’m living in some sort of alternate universe.

Dro is tapping away on his phone, Logan is nodding as he jokes with Nic, and Mario is laughing along.

I swivel back to Nic, who doesn’t seem fazed by any of this. He takes my hand and kisses it.

“It’s a five-thousand-dollar fine, babe. Nothing I can’t handle. I’m more interested in what this hospital bill is going to be. I have to check out of here fast.”

He’s smiling. It’s that damn panty-dropping smile I adore, but it’s marred by bruises and cuts and overwhelmed by the cast, hospital bed, and beeping machines. I could see him having a hero complex in a few weeks when he’s all healed and wants to do something wild, but he’s still on a goddamn morphine drip and ready to hightail it out of here.

“This has to stop!” I shout.

The room goes completely silent.

Nic looks taken aback by my outburst. “Evette, it’s—”

“You’re not jumping ever again,” I declare.

If I thought the room was silent a moment ago, now, I could hear a pin drop. I feel like the machines even decided to go silent. Dro, Mario, and Logan are all looking down at their hands or the floor—anywhere but at me and Nic.

“I’m gonna step out and get some coffee,” Logan announces.

“I’ll start making my way to the airport to pick up Mama Santiago,” Mario states.

“And I’m just getting the fuck out of here because this is hella uncomfortable.” Dro leaves, following the other guys and closing the door behind them.

Being the bitchy girlfriend making vast declarations is not who I planned to be. Especially since I’m with such an outgoing man as Nic. If I’m going to broach this subject, it has to be gently.

His face is still black and blue, slightly larger on one side than the other. Now that I’m closer, I can see the scratches on his body from the accident. He looks broken.

I sigh. Literally sigh as I look back at Nic and his face, which is glaring at me like he’s already dismissed what I have to say.

“Nicolás, I think it’s time you seriously reconsider your lifestyle.”

“Don’t do this, Evette.”

“Do what? Care about you? Stop you from killing yourself?”

“When are you going to realize that I don’t care if I die?”

“Well, I’m far too in love with you to not have you live!”

Fuck.

That was so not the way I wanted him to find out how I felt about him. I can’t write that off as a drunk proclamation. This one was real. My absolute truth.

I drop my head in my hands and squeeze my face, attempting not to cry. Because that’s what I want to do right now. I need to wail.

I peek through my fingers and see him staring down at the blankets in disbelief.

His brows curve as he asks almost in a whisper, “You’re in love with me?”

“Yes, you idiot. I know you will never change for someone else. I swear to you, that’s not what I’m doing. Yesterday, I didn’t have the balls to stop you from making a mistake, and here you are, in the hospital, tattered and bruised. It kills me that you could have not woken up from that coma.”

“But I did wake up,” he says easily. Too easily.