by Frankie Love
"He’s been transferred to the emergency unit at the hospital in Denver," he explains. "We’ll need to fly out there as soon as we can."
"How bad is it?" I ask him. I am not even sure I want the answer to that question, but I know that I need to hear it. Todd grimaces.
"It’s bad," he replies. He falls silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice has a different tone.
"So, that’s where your friend from work lives?" he demands. He sounds pissed. Honestly, I don’t have the energy to handle this right now.
"No," I admit. "It’s... a guy. A guy I’ve been seeing."
"What?" Todd snaps back. "I thought we were meant to be together..."
"Todd, please, not now," I beg him. I can’t handle this. I can’t deal with this. I just need to see my father. To understand how bad this really is, how much I really have to fear.
"Guys like that, they spend all their time at the Pink Pussy," he mutters. "Those gangs are a plague on this city, you know that, right?"
"I know," I reply, too exhausted to argue with him. I can’t believe that this is happening. I can still feel Shotgun’s hand on my thigh, the way that his fingers seemed to burn into my skin as though he was branding me with something that I was never going to get away from.
Even though I know that I am doing the right thing, it hurts to be away from him. I can already feel that pull back to his bed, to his arms once more.
I know that Todd hates men like him. But he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know him like I do. I can see something in Shotgun, something that I have never seen in anyone before – something that draws me in close to him, even though I know that I should know better. I can’t deny it. I don’t want to. Even if it pulled me away from my father when he needed me most...
The next hour or so comes in a flurry – Todd has managed to get us booked onto a flight, and we make it out to Denver by the evening. I am so exhausted that I can hardly keep my eyes open, but I am far too wired to sleep. Todd tries to put his arm around me, tries to offer me some comfort, but I shrug it off. I don’t want his comfort right now. I don’t want him. There’s only one person that I know would actually make a difference, and he is likely pissed that I took off with no explanation as to why.
I don’t even know if he would understand. My father, Todd, they’re part of a different world from him. Maybe he’ll want nothing to do with me when he finds out. I have no idea. And I know that I can’t let that get too deep into my mind right now, when all I want to think about is the state that my father is in.
A quiet nurse leads us through the near-empty corridors of the ICU – the only other people here are those visiting their loved ones, like me, wandering through the halls like ghosts. I must look like one of them. I feel like it.
At the end of the hall is the room that my father is being kept in; Todd tries to hold me back from heading straight in, but I don’t want to hear it right now. I need to know how bad it is.
I need to know what we’re dealing with here.
"Oh, my God," I gasp as I step into the room with him. I have never seen my father look so helpless in all of his life – the shock of it, of this man dwarfed by wires and tubes and casts and everything around him, it’s enough to make my head spin. Can this really be him? My father?
I sink down to my knees next to the bed, not taking my eyes off him lying in front of me. He doesn’t look real. I keep waiting for him to open his eyes, for him to look at me and smile, but he can’t. He’s out of it. His face is wrapped in bandages and his legs are in casts, his arms too, and I know things must be even worse on the inside than they seem out here.
"How bad is it?" I ask the nurse, speaking softly, as though I might disturb him. I’m not even looking at her as I ask the question. Maybe I don’t want to hear the answer.
"We don’t know yet," she replies, and her voice is gentle, soothing. But it sounds fake, rolls off my shoulders as though she might as well have not bothered in the first place. I can’t handle this. I know that this is terrible. I don’t even know the ins and outs of what happened, but it makes my whole body sag to know that I haven’t been here to help him.
"We’ll have a better idea of how his recovery will go once he’s gotten through the next few days," she explains. "Once we see how his brain activity is switching up, how his healing is going..."
She keeps talking, but I can’t hear a word coming out of her mouth. I reach out to touch his hand, feeling his cool skin against mine. He is here. He is still here. That is all that matters right now. I have not lost him yet and, in this moment, it feels like the only thing that matters.
Todd crouches down beside me, and I can feel him looking at me. I know that he is only trying to help, but it takes everything that I have not to push him away. Everything he does feels so false right now, and I need something sincere.
He puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. I don’t even turn to look at him. I can’t acknowledge him here, not when my father is in front of me, lying there like he has never taken an unassisted breath in his life.
"It’s going to be okay," Todd offers me, but I know that he doesn’t believe it. How can he know that? He can’t. He’s just saying what he thinks I want to hear.
But all I want to hear right now is the sound of my father’s voice.
And I know that it’s going to be a long time before I get to hear it again.
9
Shotgun
Pacing back and forth in my living room, I keep looking to the spot where I had her the night before. My head between her legs, I had made her come, and I knew that she was craving more the moment I pulled back.
So why had she been in such a rush to get out of here this morning? Maybe decided that she couldn’t handle someone like me, after all. The way she barreled out of here the first chance she got seemed to indicate that she’d been having some second thoughts.
But then, there was the way that she let me hold her last night. Let me pull her in close, as though she had always belonged there next to me. I couldn’t read everything into it, but there was something more to it than just the sheer physical attraction between us. Maybe I’m the only one who could feel it. I have no idea.
I could take a shift at the shop today, but honestly, I know that I would be useless right now. Until I hear from her again, I’m going to have to focus my time and energy on keeping myself distracted, so that I don’t go track her down and find out just what it was that scared her away.
Because being with her... it was beyond anything else that I have ever experienced before. She is far from the first woman that I have ever been with in those terms, but something about the way she touched me, about the way she kissed me, makes it impossible to think about anything other than how much I want her. The two of us still have so much to share and I know that I am not going to be able to get over her until I am sure that I have done everything I can to make that happen.
Outside my window, the tulips are in full bloom. Just like the one that I inked onto her arm yesterday. I hope she’s taking care of it, wherever she is. If she had stayed this morning, I could have cleaned it and re-dressed it for her. I wish that she would have given me the chance...
Suddenly, my phone rings, and I snatch it up at once. I need to hear her voice again. And, sure enough, a moment later, I do.
"Hey," she sighs.
"Hi, Spring," I murmur. She sounds exhausted. “What’s going on?" I ask. I can hear her breathing, labored, down the other end of the line. Like she has been crying.
"I’m... I’m in Denver, Shotgun," she explains.
"What are you doing there?" I demand. I can feel the worry moving through me. I don’t get concerned about other people, not really. Most of the Men of Valor can look after themselves, but there is something about the way she sounds right now that is so vulnerable it makes my heart ache for her.
"I’m at the hospital."
"Are you–"
"I’m okay," she assures me. "But... it’
s my dad. He flew to Denver last night for a work conference but was in a car accident when he was on the way from the airport to the hotel. He’s in intensive care, and they don’t know if he’s going to make it..."
Her voice cracks and breaks, and I can hear the agony that she has been trying to contain spilling out to consume her. It hurts me to hear her like that. I ache to pull her into my arms, kiss her cheeks, tell her that everything is going to be okay, but I am not sure that she wants that from me now.
"He’s just done with surgery, and they still don’t know how he’s going to turn out," she sniffles. "I – I don’t know what to do, I really don’t. I feel so guilty..."
"You have nothing to be guilty about," I tell her firmly. I am not going to let her beat herself up over the night that we spent together, not a chance in hell.
"I can come down there," I continue, already crunching the numbers on how long it will take to get my bike over to Denver.
"You don’t need to do that," she assures me. I can hear the doubt in her voice. If she asked me to drop everything to be with her right now, I would do it. I would rent a hotel room out there just so she could have a place to come back to every night. Whatever it took. As long as we could be together.
"I don’t mind–"
"I have someone here with me," she replies. "Todd. He’s a friend of my father’s, he’s been keeping me company..."
She trails off, as though she has a feeling that this man isn’t exactly one that I would be too happy about. A realization grips my chest.
"Todd Chadwick?” I ask her.
"Yeah, Todd Chadwick."
That motherfucker. It’s tempting to toss my phone against the opposite wall, but I know that’s not going to help. She needs me acting sane, and that’s far from it.
"How long have you known him?" I ask. I don’t want to shit on someone who has given her some measure of peace at this time, but I know that a fucker like Todd Chadwick is best not believed. And if he knows that I’m the one that she spent the night with, I’m just certain that he might have had some pointed things to say about me.
"Long enough to know that my father would want him here," she replies. "I’m sorry I had to leave like that, Shotgun, I really am. I don’t know how long I’m going to be down here, but I..."
Her voice catches at the back of her throat. I need to be there with her. I need to hold her and tell her that everything is going to be okay, even if I don’t know that yet. Something. Anything, to take the sting of heartbreak out of her voice.
"I miss you," she breathes.
"I miss you too," I reply. It feels like far too small a word for everything that is rushing through my head right now, and I have no idea where I am even meant to begin figuring it all out, but maybe I don’t have to yet.
"I’ll see you soon," I promise her. "And anytime you need me, you know where I am, right?”
"I know," she replies, softly, sadly. And then, she hangs up the phone.
And it is at that moment, with the remnants of her voice ringing in my ears, that I know it for sure.
I know that I am in love with her.
10
Spring
I yawn, run my hand through my hair, and sip on the coffee that has become all too familiar to me since I have been staying in Denver.
It has been a little over a month since I’ve been here. Almost a month since that night with Shotgun, a month since my father was in that accident – thank God, he has started to make a recovery, if a slow one. They want to keep him in Denver for a little while longer, just to make sure that he gets the specialist help he needs for as long as it takes him to get back on his feet.
But I feel as though we have been here a year straight, and I am not sure when – if ever – I will be able to get back to my normal life. The daycare where I work signed me off for as long as it takes, and even when I move back to Valor, I am sure that I will have to spend a lot of time helping my father through his rehabilitation.
Todd has offered to help, and I know that I should take him up on it, but there is a part of me that wants to put some distance between us. He has been good with my father since he has been down here, but honestly, he’s been treating this all as though I have finally seen the light and decided to give in and be with him.
And that’s the very last thing on my mind right now.
In fact, since I have been here, I have been doing my best to keep in touch with Shotgun, calling him every chance that I get to check in. It’s not often, but it’s something, even if I can feel Todd’s pissed-off glare at the back of my head every time I do it. Maybe that’s why I always make a point of calling him in front of Todd. To make sure that he knows that I’m not about to roll over and just let whatever this is happen.
Because the first thing that my father said to me, as soon as he woke up, was that he was so glad to see the two of us together.
"You have no idea what a relief it is," he murmured to me, clutching at my hand, even through his bleary gaze. "I know that you haven’t always seen eye to eye, but you’ve figured it out. Todd is the right man for you..."
I didn’t answer him then, and I still haven’t now. I don’t want to. I don’t want to have to have this conversation with my father – the one where I tell him that there is a man back in Valor who I can’t stop thinking about, a man who makes everything in my life make sense. A man I only spent a night with, but who I miss as though it has been a lifetime.
In all the exhaustion of everything that has been happening, I suppose that I haven’t been paying much attention to what’s going on inside my own body. It isn’t until Todd makes some asshole offhand comment that I must be on my period because I’m so moody that something hits me... my period is late.
I push it down at first, pinning it on the stress that I have been through, everything that has been happening, but I know there is more to it than that. My skin crawls as I head to a pharmacy near the hospital, pick up a test, and slip into the bathroom to take it.
I haven’t really been feeling anything too rough, so maybe it’s just the stress that has pushed my period back. Yes, nothing for me to worry about.
Please...
I wait three minutes before I look at the test, scared to see the result.
And my heart drops when I see what it says.
Positive.
I feel tears rolling down my cheeks – I hardly even notice that I’m crying until the wetness hits my skin. This can’t be happening. Not after everything else. Don’t I deserve a break? Don’t I deserve a damn second to pull myself together...?
Knowing I can’t stand in a public bathroom crying all day, I splash cold water on my face before taking a deep breath and heading back to my father’s room. He is preparing to leave the hospital today. He is still in a wheelchair, but the worst is behind us. His bags are packed and he’s coming back to the Airbnb where Todd and I have been staying.
I hope he won’t notice my blotchy red face, streaked in tears. But seeing as he is my dad, he knows right away that something is off.
"What’s wrong, baby?”
I shake my head. I can’t tell him. But then, how am I going to hide it? He’s going to find out eventually. And if I don’t tell someone about this soon, I’m going to lose my mind.
"I’m..."
I trail off. I can’t do this. Can I?
"What’s up?” he asks, his brow furrowing with concern. I know that I have to come clean.
And so, I do.
"Daddy, I’m pregnant."
Shock courses over his face, but a moment later, a smile cracks it wide open. A smile? He’s happy...?
"That’s wonderful news," he tells me. "Does Todd know yet? I’m sure he’s going to be the most amazing father–"
I screw my face up in disgust at the mere notion of Todd being the father of this child. No. Not a chance in hell. My father tips his head to the side at me.
"What is it?”
"Todd’s... not the father," I confess. And I watch as
a dawning realization spreads over his face – and my heart sinks as I try to imagine what is to come next.
11
Shotgun
I push the engine as hard as it’ll go as I cover the last few miles to Denver. I’m so close to her, I can almost taste it. I need to see her. And I know that she needs me.
She called me up a few hours ago, not her usual bright self – instead, I heard her tearful voice, and was sure something had happened to her father.
I’ve put the pieces together over the last few weeks. Her dad has real strong opinions on guys like me, ones who ride with a motorcycle club. And she doesn’t want to upset him while he’s in recovery. And I get it. I do. But her voice cracking on the phone changed my mind. I need her in my arms. Now. And forever.
"Spring, what is it?” I asked her. I hated hearing her like that. It wasn’t right. Not right that I wasn’t there with her.
"I... I’m going to need to see you when I get back. It should be in the next few days," she explained. "I’m sorry to have to do it like this, but we can talk about it then..."
"It’s serious?” I asked her.
"It’s serious," she murmured. "I’ll speak to you soon, okay?”
"Where are you staying in Denver?" I demanded.
"W-what do you mean?”
"Text me the address," I told her. "I’ll be there by the end of the day."
I hung up the phone and, a moment later, her message appeared in my inbox. As soon as I had it, I went to grab my helmet from the bedside table, and stalked out to my bike.
I don’t think I’ve ever driven harder or faster in my life. I need to get to her. My mind is racing – what's happening? Is it her father? I have no idea. But she wants me there, just as much as I need to see her once more.
