by Jessica Joy
My head is spinning. I don’t know if I’m actually processing anything the doc is saying, but one thing sticks in my mind. I started out in Seattle. Why the fuck am I in Chicago then?
“Ye said I’ve been here for two weeks. Where’s here?” I ask, trying my best to sound calm, though I feel the furthest thing from it.
The doc opens his mouth to respond but Sawyer clears his throat and shakes his head with a firm look. Yep. Something is very wrong with this situation.
“Why don’t I let your friends explain the rest to you. We’ll be back in a little while to run a few more tests. As I said Mr. Dunne, it’s good to have you awake. Please Mr. McGrath, do not cause any undue stress. A brain injury is a tricky thing and he’ll need time to recover.” Without anything further, the doctor and the nurse leave the room, closing the door behind them. As soon as I hear the door latch, I round on Sawyer.
“Sawyer. Spill. What the feckin’ hell is goin’ on?”
The fuckin’ asshole won’t even meet my eyes, looking everywhere in the room but at me as he pulls on the back of his neck. I give a low growl in the back of my throat and he finally answers. Well, sort of answers. He mumbles something so low I can’t make it out. “Speak up, ye bastard. Why. The fuck. Are we here?” I snap.
“Chicago was safest,” he bites out, looking everywhere except at me.
“Me brain must still be addled ‘cause I could’ve sworn I heard ye say Chicago was safe. That can’t be right. No one who considers themselves a Brother of mine would even consider bringing me te Chicago. Ever,” I respond, almost laughing, because there is no way Sawyer would be stupid enough to bring us to Chicago. No fuckin’ way.
“Well it’s not like we could stay in Seattle, with the Pikesmen on our asses, and it's not exactly much better in Duluth right now, so…” he trails off
“We’ll get back to why that is in a moment, but don't try te change the subject. Of all the places in the feckin’ world. Why the fuck are we in Chicago?” I insist. Sawyer once again won't meet my eyes. “I swear to Christ, Sawyer if ye contacted ‘im I’ll end ye,” I growl, my voice dripping with venom.
“Lex, maybe you should go grab some coffee or something. Tess and Evan are down in the cafe grabbing lunch. Why don’t you go see how they’re doin’?” Sawyer says to Lexi, trying to deflect once again. Lexi looks cautiously between the two of us and slowly starts toward the door.
“Lexi,” I snap, causing her to jump a little and finally look my way. “Sit yer ass down lass. Ye’re next on my list.” She holds my stare for a moment, looking like she isn’t sure if she should bolt or not, but finally decides to sink into the chair she was sitting in when I woke up. She folds her hands in her lap and looks down, studying her fingers, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation.
You and me both lass. You and me both.
With a sigh and a nod at seeing her settled, I turn my attention back to Sawyer. Not saying a word, I just stare him down, waiting for him to fill in the glaring gaps in his story, and my memory. Sawyer plants his feet and crosses his arms over his chest, trying to look intimidating and get me to back down. It’s cute really, how he thinks he can out stubborn me. I may be laid up and a fuckin’ gimp at the moment, but no one out stubborns an Irishman when he sets his mind to something. And you best believe I’m determined to kick his fuckin’ ass into the next century if he actually did what I think he did.
Sawyer rolls his eyes up to inspect the ceiling and takes a breath before finally looking at me and saying, “I called DiMarco and called in your chit.”
“Ye called DiMarco. I take it back. It’s not right to fight someone so clearly touched in the fookin’ head. Why the fook would ye call DiMarco of anyone in the entire fookin’ world? Jesus H. Christ, Sawyer!” I yell.
“You’d rather I have left you in that warehouse? Leave you in some shitty copy of General Hospital to get taken out by the Pikesmen? Maybe I should have called your father to save your shitty Irish ass?” Sawyer asks, glaring down at me, not seeing anything wrong with the monumentally stupid position he has put us in. At the mention of my father I shoot him a deadly glare.
“Yeah, didn’t think so. You know I wouldn’t have called him if there was any other option,” Sawyer admits on a sigh. “It’s not like you were available to ask.” So, the man does have a brainstem, even if it’s not fully functional. He at least has enough sense to know what a bad idea this was. When I don’t respond right away Sawyer shakes his head and strides from the room, evidently as done with my shit as I am with his.
“There's always another option,” I say quietly, closing my eyes and resting my head back against the pillow. Maybe being in a coma was better than this fucked up reality.
Chapter 4
Lexi
Listening to Gage and Sawyer’s argument makes me seriously question the wisdom of staying to have the conversation I know is coming. I watch longingly as the door closes after Sawyer, wishing I could run after him and avoid the whole thing. My head is spinning after everything the doctor told us, and I don’t know if I’m ready to actually face it. This can’t be real, right? It has to be a joke, or the doctors are wrong, or maybe he will snap out of it in a couple hours. Everyone is groggy after sleeping too long. That’s totally a thing. That’s all this is, his brain is just catching up after what basically amounts to a crazy long nap.
The last four months, gone. He doesn’t remember. He doesn’t remember any of it. I refuse to believe it. I can’t believe it. He wouldn’t do this to me. Not after everything we’ve been through, everything I told him.
As much as I don’t want to believe it, I know in my gut that it’s real. That this is really happening. If I have any hope of making it through this I have to focus on the positives. I know it’s not his fault, he’s not doing it to me on purpose. I have to focus on the fact that he is still here. He didn’t leave to forget about me, he didn’t die, he’s right fucking here and I can’t let him slip away any further.
Gage clears his throat and I look up past my knees to his messy hair and perfect beard. The anger and confusion in his eyes are like a slap in the face. I need to fill in some blanks, maybe it’ll all just pop back into his brain and I’ll be able to right all those wrongs.
“So… ye wanna explain the kiss lass?” Gage asks, awkwardly placing his right hand in his lap like he doesn’t know what else to do with it as his left hangs limp in the sling.
“Gage at least call me Lexi. I know you don’t remember, but I’m not a stranger.”
“Uh, ok. Lexi. Lex… Grab me some more water? My head is killing me,” he asks, gesturing at the pitcher on the side table. I pop the top off his cup and refill it, handing it back to him. His hand brushes mine and the desire to just hold him flares again, to be held by him again. The thought is fleeting though as he takes the cup from my hand and focuses on getting a drink without spilling in his lap. He sets the cup back on the side table and turns to me.
“So, I think we both realize that this is… awkward… but only one of us has any idea why. Take pity on a poor lad and fill me in a bit. What am I missing here Al?”
A sharp laugh jumps out of my throat before I can control it. He can’t be serious, can he? I look at him to see if he’s pulling the worst fucking joke on the planet, faking the amnesia, but no. His eyes are serious, his face open but unsure.
“You can’t remember anything about the last four months, but you can remember that? seriously? You know I hate it when you call me that,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief.
“What? Al? It’s part of yer name… Alexis, right? It’s just the part no one ever uses,” he teases, that little twinkle coming back to his eyes that makes my heart clench painfully in my chest. I’ve missed that look so desperately but I can’t help but think that it doesn’t mean any of what it did before. To him it’s just a look, an expression he’s made thousands of times without a second though; but to me, he’s ripping out a piece of my soul with each look.
I sho
uld be more grateful than this. I know I should. Those fuckers at that godforsaken garage held me in that fucking back room for three weeks. Three goddamn weeks of grease, and oil and shitty Chinese food. I should be glad to be out of there. I know I should. Except this… this isn’t what I wanted either.
My sister, who was dead for all I knew, shows up with her new… whatever he is, and his overly tattooed, bearded, wanna-be-badass biker buddies and snatches me from that stupid cell and shoves me in a car. I will admit at first, I was thrilled, so damn thankful. Once I realized they had no intention of bringing me back to my apartment, or hell, even the hospital, all goodwill fled. They kidnapped me AGAIN. It’s like fucking kidnapper inception. How the hell did my life get so fucked?
If I had to find a silver lining in this situation, I will admit the Irish giant with the colorful tattoos who is currently bouncing around the room getting us settled for the night might just be that silver lining. Yep, us. I have to share a room with the blonde haired, blue eyed, oversized hairy leprechaun. It was either that or share a room with my sister and nephew and frankly, I’m just not ready for crying babies and milk spraying titties. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be all that, but still. I can’t handle the two of them right now. Even calling her my sister is being generous at this point. Tessa. She took our fucking grandma’s name and named her brat after grandpa. Yet I’m just supposed to be cool with all that right off the bat. Yep, that’s totally going to happen. I don’t know who she thinks she is, but she is NOT my sister anymore.
The biker, whose name is apparently Gage, hasn’t stopped talking since we set foot in the room. I can tell he’s just trying to make me comfortable, trying to keep me from retreating too far into my head, but I just don’t have it in me to engage with him right now. I haven’t said more than a handful of words since he dragged me out of that back room and threw me in the back of an SUV with blacked out windows.
Always a comforting experience, at least this time I wasn’t tied up.
Gage has explained everything he knows about what happened both with myself, and with Tessa over the last few months. As he talked through all the planning they did for my and Evan’s rescue, all I’ve managed to do is sit here in the middle of the dingey and worn floral comforter on one of the two double beds in our room and stare blankly at the wall. Yeah, two beds, thank god for small blessings, I guess.
I think he asked me a question, or is at least waiting for a response, because he flopped onto the other bed on his stomach and has his hands folded under his chin and is looking at me expectantly, batting his eyelashes. Are his feet seriously kicked up behind him and crossed at the ankles like a freakin middle school girl?! I glance at him quickly but don’t engage since I have nothing to say and clearly missed whatever he had asked.
To my horror, and slight amusement, he starts saying my name over, and over, and over, and over again. You know how Stewie chases around Lois saying momma a billion times on Family Guy? Yeah, imagine that but add an Irish accent.
“Lexi, Lex, Alexis, Alex, Allie, Sis… ugh no, not that one. Al…”
That one makes me snap my gaze over to him, hoping my death stare is still functioning, and then look away again quickly. Not that one. Anything but that one.
“Ah there it is,” he says with a satisfied chuckle.
Needing to put as much distance between myself and the elementary school student trapped in the body of a giant across from me, I scoot a little farther away across my bed, still refusing to look at him.
“Ach, ye wound me Al!” he says with an over dramatic flair. I can see him roll onto his back and clutch his chest from the corner of my eye and I’ll admit, it takes a good deal of effort to not crack a smile at his antics. “Just want to get to know ye, Al. Can ye do that for me Al?”
Something about the sincerity in his voice makes me finally turn and look at him. When I see him lying on his back with his head hanging off the side toward me, sporting a goofy grin and that ridiculously long mop of hair hanging down and almost touching the floor, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Needing something to do to distract me from staring at his insanely bright smile, I scoot back and settle myself against the headboard, adjusting the pillows behind my back ‘til I’m at least somewhat comfortable.
“All joking aside Al, I know ye’ve been through hell. I’m just here to make sure ye’re safe. If ye need anything, let me know, otherwise, get some sleep. I’ll be keepin’ watch. I’ve got ye Al,” he says seriously, climbing off his bed and coming to stand next to mine. He watches for a response for a moment, but when I make no move to even look at him, he turns and crawls back onto his bed. There’re a few moments of sheets rustling and bed springs creaking as he settles himself under the blanket before he reaches over and turns off the lamp on the table between us.
Once I know he’s settled, I concede and crawl under my own blankets and settle in for the night. I pull my knees up to my chest and curl into myself, a force of habit after sleeping on the floor for so long. I lay there in the dark and silence and try to quiet my mind. After a few minutes I give into the impulse screaming through my brain and whisper, “Goodnight Gage.”
I can hear the smile in his response when he says, “Sweet dreams, Al.”
The memory hits me square in the chest and it takes everything I have in me to hold back the tears that are threatening to fall. I can’t cry, I’ve got to be strong through this. I know how much he hates seeing a woman cry and I can keep those tears for later, for his sake. Staring at my fingers knotted in my lap I chew on my lower lip, trying to get a handle on myself.
“Where’d ya go Al?” he asks quietly, the heavy note of confused remorse in his voice cutting straight through the delicate armor I have been attempting to pull around myself.
“Just a memory, it’s not a big deal,” I whisper weakly as the tears start to flow.
“Ye mind sharin’? I’m apparently a little light in that department,” he says with a rueful chuckle. I look up at him in shock and I let out a little choked laugh through my tears at seeing the playful little boy coming through. Of course Gage would make a joke at his expense to make me feel at ease. He’s done that from day one. He cracks one of those classic smiles once he sees me coming back around. “But seriously, Lexi, can we just talk a bit? I’m at such a loss for what is going on and why ye’re even here.”
Ugh. There it is, like a shot to the gut. The moment I’ve been fearing since he started to show how much he didn’t remember.
Snap out of it girl, you can mourn the loss of what little of a relationship you let him have later. Help him now, he is a good man and deserves your help.
With a sigh, I put my legs down and lean forward, taking his hand.
“I’m here because you need someone to keep that pretty little beard of yours lookin’ sharp, otherwise the nurses would’ve made you look like Spartan,” I say, pointing toward the door with my other hand.
“Spartan? Who the fuck is that?” he asks. Oh boy, we’re all the way back there.
“Sawyer; Spartan is Sawyer,” I respond. The names are still dumb but it’s important to them, so I do my best.
“Oh! ‘Cuz he kicked that fucker off the catwalk!” he laughs, just like he did four months ago. “Haha, I love it! Did he say the line too?” Jesus… déjà vu all over again.
“No, he did not say the line, but if you offer to buy him muscle oil and a breastplate, I’m pretty sure he’ll kick you off the roof,” I chuckle, the humor coming easily. His face falls at the joke though and I’ve clearly upset him.
“How’d ye… ye really have spent time with me, haven’t ye?” he asks quietly, breaking eye contact and taking his hand away from mine.
“Yes, yes I did, and I will,” I say, patting his arm. “But we have some time to sort that all out. All joking aside Gagey, you’ve been through hell, I’m just here to make sure you’re safe. If you need anything, let me know, otherwise, get some sleep. I’ll be keepin’ watch. I’ve got you.”
Chapt
er 5
Gage
I’ve been awake for three days now and am starting to think I was better off in that damn coma. If one more nurse comes in to poke and prod me, or wakes me up in the middle of the night “just to check-in” I swear someone is going to lose their fucking life. As you can imagine, my shining disposition has been a big hit with the medical staff, and as such, I’m being carted off to rehab today, two whole days early.
They like me, they really, really like me!
Little by little, pieces of my memory are coming back as I talk to Sawyer, Lexi, and Tessa. From what I can tell, I remember just about everything up until the last few months. Even though I should be happy I’m alive, let alone that I can remember as much as I do, going by the concerned looks Sawyer thinks I don’t notice, and the way Lexi looks at me like she’s seen a ghost, I know the pieces I’m missing mean more than anything that came before.
I know I should be focused on getting better, healing, remembering, but at this very moment all I can think about is getting out of this goddammed bed and taking a piss without anyone's help for the first time in weeks. It’s the simple things in life, like walking across the room, or not having to sit while you piss like a goddamn child again. At least I got that damnable bedpan and catheter away from me, talk about feeling like an invalid.
That prick of a doctor came in this morning and informed me I’ll be released this afternoon. I was hoping that meant I could finally get out of this god-forsaken city but one phone call from Sawyer and all my hopes and dreams of escape went up in smoke. The bastard has no respect for the sickly, weak, less fortunate souls who may be suffering while he gallivants around the city with his new little family.
No, I’m not bitter. Not at all. Nope. Not me.
