Bullet: Devil's Rose MC #5

Chapter 8: Piper Bardot

"Whatever you are thinking right now is extremely irrational."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking."

"I don't have to, Piper. He's alive. That's all that matters. Not the what ifs."

I nod my head, not sure what to say next. Vegas is right though. Bullet surely doesn't care about what ifs. If he didn't care when he was dying, why would he care now? That wouldn't make any sense. Not that much of what he does makes sense. 

I guess I just don't understand what was important about apologizing to me. He would have rather died knowing that he apologized than risk not having the chance. That means something, and it's kind of terrifying.

"Piper, good morning. Do you think you could talk to Bullet? He's getting uneasy."

"Yeah, of course, Bear. I'll be right there. I look okay, right?"

My leg bounces up and down, my arms moving to rub my palms along my blue jeans.

I can't believe I've been wearing jeans this whole time.

"He got shot, I don't think he cares much about how you look."

"Right, no, yeah. Um, does he need me to bring him anything?"

"He's okay, but he won't shut up about seeing you, so I think it's best you see him."

"It'll be good?"

"It'll be great. Is everything okay?"

"I don't know. I'm nervous."

A sly smile spreads across Bear's lips.

"He's nervous too. He won't show it, but he is."

I stand up from the uncomfortable chair, feeling my back crack along my spine. I keep the fuzzy blanket wrapped around my body before forcing myself to drag myself to the heavy door. I rest my hand on the handle, take a deep and barely calming breath, and push the door open. 

The overwhelming smell of lemon disinfectant mixed with sweat fills my nose. I step further into the room, ignoring the pressure of Bullet's blue eyes on me. I close the door behind me with a soft thud and turn my body to face him, tears already involuntarily filling my eyes.

"I know, angel."

"You almost died."

He reaches his hand out to me, flicking his pointer finger at me to come closer, but I stay rooted in my spot near the door.

"But you got here."

"Why did you ask that of me?"

"I needed to say sorry in case something happened."

"It was more likely you would have died waiting for me."

"Worth it."

"What if I didn't get here in time?"

"I would have lived for you either way."

I can feel the warm drops of liquid falling from my eyes and onto my red cheeks.

"Hey, hey. Come here...let me see you closer."

I find my body moving toward him, my feet practically having a mind on their own. My fingers interlace with his as soon as I'm close enough, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. He doesn't say anything while I sit beside him nor does he say anything while I slowly run my eyes over his tired face. 

He remains silent with his electric blue eyes running over my exhausted and sore body, the trembling of my hands that slowly begins to fade, and as we sit together, I finally feel like I can take deep breaths. His chest rises evenly, his pulse in his wrist steady.