Free Monroe, Marla - Belonging to Them [Men of the Border Lands 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Marla Monroe

lifted her head and tried to get her to swallow the pills.
    “Come on, baby. The Tylenol will make you feel better. Swallow them and some water for me.”
    She choked, but managed to get the two pills down and several swallows of water. Thenshe turned her head and fell back into a restless sleep. Her arm was swollen already. Did that mean infection had already set in? He couldn’t remember if their wounds had swollen when they had to get stitches.
    Her face held a grimace, and she remained white as a sheet. He smoothed her hair back from her face, and realized there was blood matted in it as well. He got up and wet another bath cloth, and gently cleaned her face and the hair around it.
    What was taking Brandon so long? He needed him. He didn’t know what to do if she woke up, and he couldn’t keep her still. He was so afraid of hurting her.
    Bolton got up and straightened the bed, making sure the covers didn’t bind her. Then he paced, unable to be still. His eyes never left her face. The minute she moved her head, he was back, talking to her. He whispered how much he loved her in her ear, and that she had to get well soon. Then he did something he hadn’t done since they’d lost their family all those years ago. He prayed.
    After what seemed like hours, her heard Brandon’s steps on the stairs. He didn’t come into the room, but walked farther down the hallway to his old room. Bolton heard the door close and wondered what he was doing. Why had he gone down there? Even if he needed to clean up, all his clothes were in here. At least he thought they were. He got up and checked the chest and the closet. Maybe they weren’t. It looked like some were missing. What in the hell had his brother been thinking all these months?
    Thirty minutes later, Brandon walked into the room in clean jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. He’d showered and changed clothes. Clothes that had not been in the room they shared with Heather.
    “I’ll watch her while you clean up. If she wakes up, she doesn’t need to see you covered in blood.” Brandon walked over to the other side of the room and looked out the window.
    Bolton started to light into him, but noticed how red his eyes were. He’d been crying, and Brandon hadn’t even cried when they’d buried their parents and little sister.
    “She woke up about an hour ago, enough that I got two pain pills in her and a few sips of water. She’s restless, but she hasn’t woken again.” Bolton didn’t bother to hide the disgust in his voice. He was pissed, and didn’t care if Brandon was hurting or not. He should be.
    Brandon just nodded and continued to look out the window.
    Bolton grabbed some fresh clothes and climbed into the shower. He didn’t bother waiting on the water to warm up. He wanted to get back in the other room with Heather. He was so afraid she would wake, and he would miss it. He scrubbed all the dried blood from his body, then rinsed off. By the time he had dried off and was dressed, he was nearly out of breath. He opened the bathroom door to find Brandon sitting in the chair bent over near her ear, whispering something to her. He couldn’t make out what it was.
    He must have made some noise, because Brandon pulled back and stood up.
    “You can sit with her while I cook something for us to eat.”
    “I’m not hungry. You go ahead if you can.”
    Brandon grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up close. “I’m not a bit fucking hungry, but we both have to eat and keep up our strength because we’re going to be staying up with her around the clock, and still take care of the damn farm.”
    “Fine, fix something. I’ll eat, and I’ll take care of her while you take care of your farm.” Bolton turned away.
    Brandon didn’t stop him this time. “Without this farm, we don’t have food to feed her. I could give a rat’s ass about the fucking farm, but we need it to take care of her. If it falls apart around us, we don’t have any way to feed her or make her