Bruce
It has been two weeks since I was shot…
I’m still sitting in the chair. My back is sore, and my hand is killing me because Micheal has been holding it in a death grip the whole time. I’m so weak and drained that I’ve leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I’m not asleep though.
I jerk in surprise when I hear Michael’s hoarse voice saying, “Who the hell takes a bullet for a woman.”
I straighten up with a gasp. His eyes are open and resting on me. They’re bleary but aware, and the corner of his pale mouth is turned up.
I say the most irrelevant thing. “You took a bullet in the shoulder, not the chest. It didn’t even do much damage.”
“Hurts like the devil,” I shrugged.
“I’m sure it does bro,” he muttered.”
I’m feeling rather weepy, but I try to keep my composure and smile.
“I
