The Way Home (Chasing #3) (31 page)

I ought to throw it through the fucking window
.

“Nate, you’re going to rip your stitches out. You were shot. Do you remember?” Kara asked. She had my hand now clasped in hers and was standing beside the bed, staring down at me.

I did remember. Only too well
.

“Miley’s all right,” she said, and at hearing those words, I sagged against the mattress overcome with relief.

“Where is she?” I croaked, my voice cracking.

Whatever Kara had been about to say was interrupted by the opening of the hospital room door. A woman dressed in a white uniform hurried inside. In her hand, she carried
a needle.

Hell no, she wasn’t giving me anything. No. Fucking. Shot. I had to get to Miley.

With little effort, I jerked free from Kara’s grasp and gripped the bedrail
. I was getting out of this damn bed one way or another.
The nurse moved closer, appearing completely unconcerned by my menacing stare.

“Mr. Lucas, you need to lie still,” she urged in a firm voice.

“No!” I said menacingly, but when Devon suddenly applied pressure to my chest and gripped my arm, I had no choice but to watch helplessly while the nurse slipped the needle into my IV.

Like a baby
,
I was too fucking weak to do anything about it.

A SOFT, YELLOW
glow had replaced the harsh fluorescent lighting I’d awakened to earlier. Through the cracks in the blind, I could see that it was dark outside. In a chair nearby reclined an uncomfortably positioned man I hadn’t seen in years. It was Matthew Triton, Miley’s brother and my former best friend.

Mattie, as I liked to call him; especially when I wanted to piss him off, which was most of the time.

He had changed very little over the years.
Well except for the suit, I never remembered him wearing a suit.
A tweed jacket was draped over the arm of the chair. His head rested against his broad shoulder. Even though I was consumed with a sudden sense of urgency to speak with him, there was also a hesitancy to disturb him. I wasn’t too sure as to how he’d take the news of me and his baby sister.

The memory of his warnings resonated in my mind. Even though it had been years ago and we were older now, he would still probably hold a grudge and want to beat my ass — not a doubt in my mind. I couldn’t really blame him, but he’d have to wait at least until I was out of this fucking hospital bed first.

My lips were dry, and I licked them.
Whether he beat my ass or not, it was good to see his big, ugly face.
My lips curved into a half smile. “Hey, Mattie.” He didn’t stir when I called his name. His knee was close to the railing of the bed, so I slid my hand through the rails, wincing at the soreness of my muscles protesting with the movement, and poked his leg hard.

“Wake up, fucker.”

Familiar blue eyes blinked groggily, focusing in on me. A smile curved his lips, shifting the planes of his hard face and transforming that intimidating mug of his into some semblance of friendly. He’d been nicknamed The Intimidator back in the day by the high school football coach. Matt had been the star quarterback both our junior and senior years. I’d chosen not to play sports, even though we’d religiously lifted weights together. I was bigger than him, but the kind of attention that always came with being an athlete, I hadn’t wanted that spotlight, nor had I needed it. It had been impossible to completely escape all of that shit, though, since I’d been dating the head cheerleader. Matt had always been a little envious of Natalie’s and my relationship since his own rarely lasted more than a couple of weeks at the most. He’d always been the love’em and leave’em type.

“Long time, no see,” I said.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, and straightened in his chair as he ran a hand through his sandy, reddish-blonde hair while staring back at me.

“Like I’ve been run over by a frigging Mac truck,” I replied, only to hear him laugh.
It wasn’t funny. I was telling the truth. I was as sore as a motherfucker.
“Where’s Miley?” I asked, and the degree of warmth in his smile slipped a few notches and was accompanied by the sudden narrowing of eyes. His frosty gaze held mine.

“I finally convinced her to go home. You’ve been out of it since yesterday.”

“She’s all right?” I asked, the concern in my voice had him lifting his bushy eyebrows at me. I could literally see the fucking wheels in his sharp ass mind spinning.
Let them fucking spin.

“Besides a few stiches…” He informed me. “…she’s fine.”

A grunt escaped my lips as I reached for the bedside remote; but Matt, he beat me to it and began raising the head of the bed. His gaze remained entirely focused on me. He didn’t have to say a word. Even though I hadn’t seen him years, he was easy to read, and I was well aware of what he must be thinking.

“It was only a flesh wound,” he reassured me. “The bullet grazed her arm. She’ll have a scar, but thanks to you, she’s alive.”

“She was lying on the ground. She wasn’t moving.” I recalled once again the nightmare I relived every time I closed my eyes.

“Hey,” he said, demanding my attention. “She’s fine, man. She must have passed out. Ryder Blade, on the other hand, he’s not doing too well.”

“What about him?” I asked, unconsciously clenching my hands at my sides at the mention of him. As long as there was breath in my body, I’d never allow him to harm Miley ever again.

“He’s dead,” Matt stated flatly, eyeing me as if waiting for a reaction. Neither the world nor I would shed one tear over losing a scumbag like Ryder Blade. “His brother was released this morning. They’d kept him overnight for observation; head wound and a concussion. Earlier when I came in, he was leaving.”

“What brings you back to Crawley, Mattie?” I asked, and he shook his head glaring at me.

“You know I fucking hate it when people call me that.”

“Yeah, I remember that chick you used to date in high school. Mattie this and Mattie that,” I teased, and the sudden laugh that shook my chest had me grimacing in pain. Matt smiled smugly at me.

“Serves you right, fucker. So, you and my little sister?” he asked, again with the raised eyebrow.

From his expression, it was obvious he wasn’t too thrilled about the news. I would have to change his mind. There was no way I was letting Miley go. Mattie’s approval was not needed. “I love her, Matt.”

“The hell you say.” He looked at me in disbelief. “What about Sierra?”

“What about her?” I asked, gritting my teeth. If I wasn’t in this bed, I’d lay his ass out flat on the floor cold for even asking such a question. I didn’t like where he was headed with this; what he was implying with his words.

Matt knew me. He’d better watch his step and his mouth.

“What do you think that little girl is going to say when she finds out you shot her father?”

“Get the fuck out!” I yelled at him, gripping the bedrail.

Instead of leaving, he chose to ignore me. He ran a hand down his craggy face and then leaned forward in his chair to study me. “I just want what is best for my sister and for my niece. Surely you of all people can understand that.”

“It was self-defense, douche bag. You know your way out.”

At hearing my words, Matt stood and reached for his coat. “You need to consider this,” he said, and then he walked across the room.

That self-righteous son of a bitch.

“Nate.”

My gaze jerked, meeting his. He stood in the doorway holding open the door. His expression mildly hinted at what appeared to be regret. “I know you probably hate me right now, but I just want what’s best for Miley and for Sierra.”

Contrite didn’t suit Mattie. I’d heard this spill loud and clear the first time.

“I understand,” I said, even though I didn’t really get it.

That asshole obviously thought I wasn’t good enough for his baby sister or for his niece. Fuck him!

“Thank you for saving my sister,” he said and without another word he turned and walked from the room.

For a long time after he left, I stared blankly at the closed door thinking of his words.

Was I good enough for Miley? Could I be the kind of father that Sierra deserved or the husband Miley needed? Was Matt right? Would Sierra hate me years from now when she finally learned the truth… that I was the man who had killed her father?

I WAS AWAKE
at 7:30 the next morning, dressed and waiting for the doctor to arrive. He’d stopped in during his morning rounds, and, after a brief examination, he deemed me fit for release.

Thank fuck! I’d had enough of this place!

My discharge could have also been due to the fact that I’d let him know I wasn’t spending another night in this godforsaken hellhole. In return, he’d informed me no lifting for the next week and had given me a card with a follow up appointment.

At 8:45 a.m., I was sitting in the back of a cab on my way to Hawk Mountain.
I was finally going home
. I’d decided against calling Miley. It was still early, besides it was also a school day. She would be busy with Sierra, and more than likely pissed off at me for not calling. I would never admit it, but I couldn’t remember her damn number. If she knew, she’d never let me live that one down. Hell, it was stored in my damn phone. The only problem was — my phone was dead. Her number may have been on file at the hospital as a contact, but I hadn’t even considered that option until I was five miles down the road in the back of this cab.

Hell, I’d just wanted to get home.

Seeing the old house was a welcomed sight. I quickly paid the cabby and climbed out of the taxi, glad to be back at the place where I belonged. Miley’s Corolla was absent from the driveway. A grin curved my lips as I studied my truck sitting parked in the drive. It was a pleasant surprise to find it here since the last time I’d seen it had been when I’d left it parked down the road from the Retribution MC’s warehouse.

I was glad she was still in one piece.

Hopefully, the keys were inside since my own had been missing when I checked out of the hospital earlier. As soon as I changed clothes, I planned to drive to the vets to check on Hank. Until now, I hadn’t realized how attached I’d become to that shithead.

I bent down, careful not to the bump my bad arm against the porch railing. The sling helped to stabilize it some, but the fucker still hurt like hell. Feeling around beneath the front porch step, my fingers encountered the slick smooth rock tucked underneath the first step.

Thank God, I’d had enough sense to hide an extra key outside
.

With the key in hand, I made my way up the steps to the front door. My thoughts, the entire time, were of Miley and Sierra. Then I remembered what Matt had said. The road leading me the way home may have been a rocky one, but now that I was here, I didn’t plan on going anywhere, at least not without speaking to Miley first.

Matt didn’t know shit. I was sick of running.

When I opened the front door, a familiar whining reached my ears. It sounded like the sweetest of music. Hank leapt from the couch and headed straight for me. My relief was quickly replaced with unease. “Stop,” I yelled, and barely managed to turn to the side, shielding my arm before he was jumping all over me.

“Down, Hank.” I ordered, and this time, he obeyed. “It’s good to see you, too, buddy.”

I’d missed him. I was glad he was okay.

He wagged his tail, following after me, and stood patiently waiting while I emptied the contents of my pockets, placing everything inside those pockets on the coffee table. It was good to see the pup had fully recovered. Since the pain medication the nurse had given me at three this morning was starting to wear off, I needed to sit down. My shoulder throbbed, but it would just have to fucking hurt.

Instead of stopping off at the pharmacy and filling my prescription, I had come straight here. I’d just wanted to be at home. I sat down on the couch, positioning my bad arm safely out of Hank’s reach. That way he couldn’t accidentally bump it. He was a big, playful, gentle giant, but a giant just the same and clumsy as hell.