by Emilia Finn
“He… they…” Lindsi and I have something in common – maybe it’s the Conner genes – but we rarely cry. Like, ever! She was almost murdered by her late husband, and yet, nary a tear. But today, they slide along her cheeks as freely as they do mine. “His leg was dying, Dee. He was really sick. They found an infection in his blood, which turned septic.”
“So they amputated his fucking leg?”
“They had to!” she screams back. “They had to do it, or he would have died.”
“Was he awake to make that decision?” I thrust an arm toward the hall. “Was he active in choosing this? Because amputation should have been the last fucking resort!”
Lips wobbling, she drops her eyes to the floor. “He wouldn’t wake up. He had an infection in his blood. His white blood cells were going crazy, and his fever just wouldn’t come down. The infection was spreading fast, and if they left it longer, they would have had to take more.”
I turn back to the sink as disgust rolls through my belly. I don’t know why I’m angry at her. I don’t have anyone to be angry at except myself. “He’s so angry, Linds. He’s furious. He didn’t want that.”
“He was mean to you, but he’s doing the best he can–”
“He’s allowed to be angry!” I spin back with balled fists. “They took his fucking leg! He likes to swim, Linds. He likes to dive, and go to the gym, and lift weights, and run in the mornings. He’s a cop, but you know Alex won’t let him come back to active duty. Does he seem like the kinda guy who’s gonna push paper all day for the rest of his life? He was getting ready for a marathon in March. That means running. Can’t do that with one fucking leg, Lindsi!”
Those Conner genes rear their ugly head when Lindsi’s angry eyes come up and meet my fury with her own. “You know better than that, Dee! You know he’ll be up again soon.”
“Not with the anger that he feels! He. Doesn’t. Want. This.” A billion what ifs and why nots race through my mind. A billion plans; things I can do to help, things I can prepare to make this easier. He doesn’t want me here. He doesn’t want any of this. “He’s being discharged in two days? Where’s he going for rehab?”
She shakes her head. Bringing a hand up, she noisily swipes tears and boogers away. “He’s refusing. He wants to go home.”
“He can’t! Jesus! He doesn’t–”
“Insurance already acknowledged his wishes, Andi. He said it out loud, signed the papers to confirm it. No way in hell is the insurance company going to pay for that now that he said he was healthy enough to go home. His house is single story, his hallways wide. There’s nothing anyone can say or do to change this.”
“He needs help! Not to be dropped off at home with two thumbs up and a good luck!”
Dropping her shoulders, Lindsi’s anger drains and makes way for exhaustion. How long has she been in the hospital with Oz? How many nights has she not slept because of this?
“Oz said he and Alex will take shifts staying with him.” Clasping her fingers together, she studies the watch on her left wrist just so she doesn’t have to meet my eyes. “He’ll have a home nurse every day for the first little while to help dress his st–” She chokes on the word, looks into my eyes, and refuses to say it. She refuses to say stump. “His wound. He’s booked in to get the staples out in another week.”
My knees continue to shake. My hands shake. Hell, even my lips shake. I’m disgusted they did this to him. I’m absolutely fucking furious it happened when he was asleep and unable to tell them no. “When did they take his leg?”
“Umm…” She closes her eyes – squeezes an errant tear out – and thinks. “Thirteen days, I think. The night he was hurt, twenty-one days ago, he was sent straight to surgery, because…” She opens her eyes again. “Um… One bullet went straight through his stomach and out the other side. That should have been the scary part, but it’s healing up okay. But the other one, the one in his leg, it didn’t pass through. It’s like it exploded while inside, like a gunshot spray.” She opens her hands, expands them, as though I need help visualizing an explosion. “They sent him to surgery to remove everything, but, I mean, he was stable. He was hurt, and that was horrible, but he’s young and healthy, he was supposed to be stable. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Salty tears slide over my cheeks. Not loud, howling cries, but something worse. The silent kind that break you from the inside and wring you out.
“Um…” Her voice cracks. “That wasn’t the longest night of my life, but it was right up there. Alex and Oz were being treated for burns. Jess and Laine were being treated for burns. Jess’ boyfriend was dead. The whole town was a mess, and Alex was hurt, but still working. Oz was hurt, but he wouldn’t leave Alex, because that’s his best friend. Everything was crazy, and I was stuck in the middle trying to catch up to my husband, but needing to stay back and hold my babies.
“Through it all, Riley had a waiting room full of broken people waiting for him to come back out. It was scary, but he should have been fine, ya know? And he was! He woke the next day. He woke and said hello.” Her lips tremble. “He called me Andi. He thought I was you!” She runs a rough hand over her cheek and wipes away her tears. “Then he went back to sleep and didn’t wake again. They kept running tests, but he was getting worse and worse each day. His fever kept increasing, he wouldn’t react to any stimuli. Necrotic.” Her tear-filled eyes meet mine. “That’s the word they used when his leg started dying. Necrotic. They tried to save it. He was on antibiotics for days, but it was only spreading. It would have eventually come up to his knee, then his thigh. They would have had to take the whole leg if they left it much longer, and if they didn’t touch it at all, it would have killed him.” Stepping forward, she grabs my shaking hands and squeezes. “This was our only choice. This was the best choice. Missing half a leg isn’t a death sentence. You know this.”
“It is to him.” Leaning closer, I stare into her eyes and hiss through my teeth. “He’s angry, because to him, this is as bad as it could get. In his mind, it’s all over, and it’s not fair, because no one gave him a choice.”
Disgusted, I drop her hands and push through the bathroom door. Steamrolling along the hallway, I pass my watchful family and ignore Alex as he stands guard at Riley’s door like I’m coming back for a second shot. Shaking my head and swiping my cheeks in case I missed some in the bathroom, I stop in front of Livi and smile like everything is okay. “Thanks for looking after Nacho, baby. I hope she was good for you.” I take the satchel from her lap and take comfort when Nacho relaxes at my touch. We’re still new together, still finding our rhythm, but she’s getting more and more comfortable each day. “Did she talk to you?”
Livi glances up with tears in her eyes and a quivering jaw. She’s being brave, but she heard the chaos, she saw me run away. “She talked heaps, Aunt Andi. I think she was sad you ran away.”
“Maybe.” I lean forward and drop a kiss on Liv’s head. “I’ll bring her around later, okay? You’ll have time to get to know her.”
“You’re staying?”
Every male in the waiting room watches us with intense eyes. Cupping my niece’s cheek, I ignore them. “I’m sticking, baby girl. But I’ve gotta run out for now; I’ve got errands to run.”
“Will you come back?”
“To the hospital? No, baby.” I’m not welcome here. “But what are you having for dinner? I might crash it.”
“I’ll cook something.” Ben steps closer, but his nearness sends Nacho into a squealing rampage. Like she can smell him, or sense him, she screeches in my bag until he takes a step back and lifts his hands in surrender. “Ohhhkay.” His eyes shoot between mine and the bag when she calms down. “I won’t touch. Umm… I was just saying, come over tonight. I’ll cook. Seven o’clock okay?”
I know my eyes are pink, I know I have tears on my cheeks, but I paste on my brave face and nod. “I’ll be there. I can’t wait. I’ve gotta run out for now, but I’ll see you later, okay?”
“I’ll wal
k you out to the car.”
My eyes shoot up to Oz’s, like I need his permission to take his kid away from this room. He doesn’t argue; he nods and offers a set of car keys. “You can drive my truck for today, I’ll ride in Lindsi’s car.”
I accept the keys with a shy smile. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s department issue, so if you crash it, Alex will be up your ass like nothing you’ve ever known. If you so much as touch the radio or buttons, I’ll hurt you. Be responsible. Don’t abuse my truck.” Then he whispers, “Don’t make this situation worse than it already is.”
I roll the keys in my hand and nod. “I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be at your place for dinner at seven.”
Accepting Lindsi against his side when she reemerges and pretends she wasn’t just crying in a bathroom, he nods and takes a step back. “Seven. We’ve missed you stinking up the place, so welcome back.”
“Can I come with you, Aunt Andi?” Ben’s ocean blue eyes study mine. “I wanna come wherever you’re going.”
“Not this time, baby. Walk me out to the truck, help me find where Oz parked, but then you gotta come back to your mom.”
His eyes narrow. “Andi…”
I lift a daring brow. “Old rules still apply; you drop my Aunt title, I give you an uppercut. No special treatment. Now let’s go.”
I let Ben walk me out of the waiting room, back into the elevators, out the doors, and across the emergency driveway. He slides his arm through mine – because God forbid I trip in the street and die on his watch – and doesn’t let go again until we stop on the second level of the parking garage beside a shiny black truck. The top of the wheels are higher than my stomach, the door handle higher than my head.
Boys are so stupid with how they lift their trucks.
Grunting, I let Benny help me climb up like I were a toddler trying to get up to the kitchen table, which provides us both a second of reprieve from the turmoil brewing in the hospital behind us. It’s all so dark, so helpless.
“Hey… Aunt Andi?”
“Yeah, baby?” I set Nacho on the passenger seat and look down into Benny’s sad eyes. He’s so big and strong, all grown into a man’s body but with a teen’s mind. He’s not my little baby anymore. Not the sweet child that shared my tiny apartment for so long. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Um… Officer Cruz…” He scratches the back of his neck. “I know he’s your friend. And I know he just yelled at you.” Graciously, he ignores the fresh tears that spring to my eyes. “I just wanted to check that you were okay. That was a shit show in there. You came all this way to visit, and he threw you out, which was a dick move on his part.”
“Not a dick move, baby. His whole world has just changed. I didn’t know he was hurt, then I rushed here without thinking, so turning up unannounced was really insensitive. I’m going to run some errands now, and hopefully I’ll be able to make this a little bit easier on him. I’m okay.” Reaching down, I cup Ben’s sweet face and smile when he leans into it. “Riley Cruz is a good man, Benny. One of the very best. So I won’t hold today against him.”
“He was protecting Jess and Laine when it happened,” he whispers. “He stood in front of them and was shot.”
Of course that’s what happened. Of course he was standing in front of someone else, protecting them, saving their lives. “That makes him a hero. And I heard Oz and Alex were heroes that night, too. You’re surrounded by amazing men. That’s something to aspire to, huh?”
Nodding, he steps up to the truck and accepts a gentle kiss in the center of his forehead. As soon as he turns and walks away, I drop my head to the steering wheel and weep for the angry hero inside.
So much pain, so much bitterness.
He didn’t want this.
Every victim needs someone to blame. Their world has spun out of their control, so they need someone, something to pin the shit to in an attempt to regain some semblance of control.
I’m Riley’s shit.
All because I freaked out on him and didn’t know what to do with my feelings. We fought, his anger was fresh in his mind when he was hurt, and now I’ve been branded in his soul as the bad guy.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair.
Pushing back and swiping a hand over my cheeks, I push the keys into the ignition and try to formulate a plan. I need to help him. I need to make this an easy transition, so I pull out of the parking garage and head toward his house.
I have no keys, but I have an uncanny ability to get up to no good, and an aptitude for sneaking into places. This will be like child’s play.
2
Andi
Cleaning Up
It takes only minutes to drive from one side of this small town to the other. It’s so small, in fact, I arrive at Riley’s home in suburbia before my heart has a chance to slow. Cutting the engine, I study the slightly untidy grass, though it’s not not overgrown, since the weather isn’t particularly pleasant. His mailbox overflows, and a couple parcels sit on his front porch and prove how lonely this house has been for weeks.
Leaving Nacho in the truck for a minute, I slide out, drop to the sidewalk, and study the yard with an eye for practicality. He needs a home that is handicap accessible, at least for the short term, so steps at the front of the house won’t do, but the front path is wide and leads right to the driveway. That’ll be helpful.
Leaving the mailbox alone for a second, I move along the driveway and stand on my tiptoes at each window I pass. All of the blinds are closed, the windows locked. But I don’t give up. I move past the garbage cans – the stench is enough to make my stomach roll – and add them to my to-do list.
Put them out, get them emptied, hose them out.
Stopping at the garage, I tap the roller door like that’ll magically gain me entrance, but nothing. Squatting down, I grab the handle and pull, but this cop isn’t that stupid and I’ve already broken in once; perhaps he’s learned his lesson. The door remains down and locked, so I straighten my spine and move to the six foot backyard fence, unlatch the gate, and move into the back. Same as the front, the grass is a little untidy, but not something I need to deal with right away. I stop and stare up at the house; more steps. It’s funny how four steps to a regular person means nothing, but to Riley… they’ll mean the difference between freedom or his home becoming a prison.
So I add them to my to-do list, then I step up to the back door and try the handle.
Locked.
He thinks he’s smarter than me. He thinks he can keep any regular burglar out of his home… well I’m not a regular burglar. I’m Andi, and I’ll slide down the damn chimney before I give up on this. Walking around the far side of his house, I stop at his bedroom window and test the lock. The glass doesn’t move, but in my peripherals, I catch a glimpse of something I never expected; I broke in through his bathroom window once already. You’d think the diligent rookie would’ve learned his lesson already. The window is small, it’s open only half an inch and draws no attention, but I see it.
I give my thanks for it.
Channeling the spring break, twenty-one-year-old me, I dig my nails between the wall and the screen and pop it out, then patting my pockets to make sure my cell and keys stay put, I boost myself up and stop half in, half out of the window.
The stench hits me first. Slamming my eyes shut and turning my face into my shoulder, I will the tears out of my eyes when the smell hits me like a wall. Not just a garbage can stench, but shit stench, like actual feces. “What the hell?” Leaning back out of the window, I draw in a long breath until my lungs ache, then I hold it and scramble through the window until I fall to the tile floor and expel my precious clean air.
I jump to my feet and bring my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose. It fucking stinks in this house, and it takes only twenty seconds to figure out why. Ninja darts through the hall with a menacing growl, her tail bent at an odd angle, and kitty litter track marks on the floor as she passes. I step along the hall and tiptoe around th
e mess, and stopping at the laundry room, I whimper at the overflowing litter box. “Jesus, Ninja. They forgot you.”
He’s been away, and nobody remembered her.
Tears slide along my cheeks; tears from the smell, tears of sadness for the man in the hospital, and tears for the cat who would have thought she was abandoned. She’s been forgotten and alone for three weeks, shitting in an overfull litter box, drinking from a toilet, and wondering why the hell her devoted human has left her. Riley used to share his breakfast omelets with her, and now she lives in a dump and is probably starving.
Leaving the laundry room and stepping back into the hall, I move toward the kitchen and amend my assumption; not starving. A five pound bag of dry cat food lies torn open – or more accurately, chewed open – in the middle of the floor. Pieces of dry biscuit litter the floor amongst scattered garbage from the now emptied trash can. Rotten banana peel, egg shells, an empty milk carton. “Ninja?” I turn and pat my thigh. “Ninja, come out, baby. I’ll feed you something proper. Come on.” I pat my thigh again until the bell on her collar jingles and stops at the hallway door. She peeks around with angry eyes, but she doesn’t come out. She’s turned feral and scared from weeks of being alone.
“Okay. It’s okay.” Stepping around the trash, I stop at the massive windows over the sink and flip them open to get a little fresh air. Somewhat accustomed to the stench now, I drop my shirt and move toward the living room. Cat poop has been walked into the rug and over the coffee table. Groaning, I add the rug to my list and make a note to have it cleaned. The expensive blinds sit askew on one of the large windows, like maybe Ninja was climbing and pulled them down. Grabbing a chair from the kitchen, I climb up and fix it, then I open the window to allow more fresh air.
Finally, the cool from outside creeps in and creates a cross breeze. I move past Riley’s plush leather couch covered in blankets, a pillow, and empty gummy worm packages, and make no mention of the new claw marks along one of the arms. Stopping at the front door, I catch sight of the dangling handcuffs and pull in a deep breath before I lose my shit.
