When the Storm Ends

by Jillian Anselmi

  “Did she tell you how I made her suck my dick, eh? How about how I shoved my cock so far up her ass—”

  “Shut the fuck up!” I scream, seconds away from watching him bleed out.

  “Brody, don’t do it,” Dallas says from behind me. In my peripheral, I see Dallas standing off the side.

  “Give me one good reason why not,” I say, grinding my jaw.

  “Because you’re better than he is. Because justice will prevail. Because you don’t want killing him on your conscience. Trust me, I know.” Dallas’s now standing beside me, waiting for my decision.

  “Don’t listen to him, shoot me! Kill me for what I did to that poor, innocent girl,” Armond taunts.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I snap, my hands still shaking.

  “Put the gun down,” Dallas whispers. Staring at Armond with that smug look plastered across his face, all I want to do is shove the nose of this gun in his fucking mouth, pull the trigger, and watch as the bullet exits the back of his skull, taking pieces of brain matter with it—watch as he falls to the ground in a heap of death. But then, I think of Lani. What would she want me to do? Is death too good for this bastard? With everything he’s done, does he deserve to live? Does he deserve life in prison? Or should I end it all right here, right now?

  I stare Armond down as I inch my pistol into its holder. I’m not sure I’m making the right decision, but this piece of shit needs to rot in a six by six prison cell. Walking up to Armond, I throw a right hook, dropping him like a bad habit. “I hope you rot in hell,” I spit as I turn to walk away.

  “You did the right thing,” Dallas says as McAvoy and Neimeth catch hold of Armond.

  “I need to get to the hospital,” I say, still shaking.

  “I’ll have one of the guys take you. Don’t worry, I heard she’s a tough chick.”

  Brody

  SPRINTING THROUGH THE waiting room, I stop short at the check-in desk. “Delani. Delani Delvecchio,” I shout, winded.

  “Sir, oh my God! You’re bleeding,” the nurse exclaims. During the struggle, I popped my stitches and didn’t realize it until the ride to the hospital. My shirt is stained in the blood oozing from my wound, I’m dirty, and I’m sure bruised from where Armond punched me, but I don’t give a shit about that right now.

  “I’ll be fine. Delani?” I say, ignoring the nurse’s concern.

  “No, you most certainly are not. You need to get that looked at,” she insists.

  Looking upward and sighing, I say, “If I get this looked at, will you then take me to Lani?”

  “Come with me,” she says, pushing me into a wheel chair. “What’s your name?”

  “Brody Russell,” I answer as she wheels me into one of the emergency room cubbies.

  “I’m going to run to get a doctor. He’ll be here in just a moment,” she says before darting away.

  An older gentleman wearing a white coat strolls in a few minutes later. “Mr. Russell, I’m doctor Malfi,” he says as he looks me over.

  “Doc, can you just patch me up?”

  “What happened here?” he asks, suspicious.

  “I’m a police officer. I was shot in the line of duty.” I show him my badge, which is clipped to my jeans.

  Nodding, he says, “Doesn’t sound like you’re from around here.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a pair of latex gloves.

  “No. I’m from Texas,” I confess.

  “Let me take a look,” he mutters as he pulls back my shirt. I flinch as it skates across the wound. “Not horrible. I’ve seen worse,” he comments as he continues poking and prodding.

  “How long?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “I’ll have you fixed up in,” he looks at the stitches again, “twenty minutes, tops.”

  “Great. Let’s do this then.”

  The stitches replaced and my face cleaned up some, I go back down to the check-in desk. There sits the same nurse who wheeled me into emergency half an hour earlier. “Please, I need to see her,” I beg.

  “Are you family?” Shit.

  “Yes, he’s family,” a frail female voice answers from behind me. Spinning toward the voice, I find a petite blonde, her vibrant blue eyes bloodshot and glossy.

  “Taryn?” I utter, not sure what else to say.

  “Hi, Brody.” She gives me a weak smile, but she’s barely holding it together.

  “She’s still in surgery. You can wait over there,” the nurse says, pointing to a room on the far side of the emergency room, “or there’s a separate waiting room on the fifth floor for surgical patients.”

  “Thank you,” I mumble, bringing my attention back to Taryn. “What have you heard?”

  “Ride with me,” she sighs, walking toward the elevators. Pressing the up button, she says, “They say she’s in a bad way.”

  Ping.

  The elevator doors open and we get on. Once the doors close, she presses the fifth floor button. “How bad?” I whisper, my heart pounding faster with every beat.

  The elevator whisks us up, leaving my stomach on the first floor. Not from the motion of the elevator, but the possibility that I might lose Lani. I can’t lose her, not when I just found her. Taryn looks away, tears streaming down her face. I haven’t even given my condolences for her cousin. I’m not even sure she knows yet. The idea that Travis is dead still hasn’t fully registered in my brain.

  Ping.

  The elevator doors open, depositing us in front of another desk. Taryn walks up to the nurse sitting behind it. “Any change?” she whispers.

  “No, sweetie. No news yet.” With her head low, she leads me to an enclosed waiting room with coffee and magazines.

  She motions to a set of chairs where a dark-haired man sits, but I continue to stand. “Brody, this is Dominic.”

  Dominic looks up, his eyes just as red and glassy as Taryn’s. “Nice to meet you,” I mumble. He gives me a subtle nod, then looks back down.

  “In case you’re wondering why I’m here, I’m Delani’s emergency contact since . . .” she trails off. Since she has no one else.

  “I’m glad you’re here for her,” I utter, my voice tight.

  “You need to tell me everything that happened,” she says, raising her voice. “You were supposed to protect her.” The guilt I feel is a thousand times heavier than anyone can lay on me, but it still twists my heart, choking me. “You! You weren’t there for her,” she yells, pushing me. She needs to find someone to blame and I’m standing right here. I make no move to stop her, my arms flat against my sides. “Why? Why weren’t you there?” she sobs as she continues to beat on me. “Why!” Laying her forearms against me, she presses her head against my chest as she breaks down.

  I bring my arms up, cocooning her with an embrace. I don’t know what else to do. I glance over to Dominic, who’s watching the whole thing unfold. “I’m so sorry,” I breathe, the words falling from my lips in a limp apology.

  She pushes me away, then wipes her nose on the back of her shirt sleeve. Breathing through her nose, she attempts to regain her composure. “I’m sorry,” she sniffles.

  “Don’t be. I deserve everythin’ you gave me and more.”

  “No, you don’t.” Looking up at me, she gasps. “You’re bleeding!”

  “It’s nothin’. I’m fine,” I argue.

  “No, you’re not. You need to get that looked at.” After all that, she’s concerned for my well-being. No wonder Lani loves her so much.

  “I already did. Got re-stitched before coming up here. You want to know what happened, right?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, still shaking from her sobbing.

  “Take a seat,” I murmur, waving toward Dominic. Taryn sits, leaning her head against his shoulder. Putting his arm around her, he kisses the top of her head. Will I ever be able to kiss the top of Lani’s head again? Sighing, I push those thoughts aside and go into the details, starting from right before I got shot.

  As I’m finishing, a doctor enters the room. “Ms. Reynolds?”

>   “Yes, that’s me,” Taryn says, standing.

  “I’m Doctor Morgan, Delani’s surgeon.” I move closer. My lower lip trembles and an empty feeling takes residence in my stomach.

  “How is she?” I blurt out.

  “You are?”

  “Brody Russell, Lani’s boyfriend.” Shifting on my feet, I pray he doesn’t throw me out. He looks over at Taryn for approval and she nods.

  “Okay.” He motions for us to take a seat. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’s a fighter. She has multiple lacerations and broken bones. A punctured lung and ruptured spleen. She was beaten and dehydrated.” He pauses for a moment, weighing something in his mind. “She was brutally sexually assaulted. Honestly, if she hadn’t been brought in when she had, I’d be telling you a different story.” I clench my jaw, regretting not putting a bullet in the back of Armond’s head.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Taryn squeaks, her voice hoarse.

  “The next few days will tell. She’ll be in intensive care under twenty-four hour observation in an induced coma.”

  “When can we see her?” I ask.

  “She’s in recovery now. Best bet is to get some sleep and come back tomorrow. There’s nothing more you can do here.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Taryn whispers.

  Nodding, he adds, “If you need anything else, check with the nurse at the intensive care station. Otherwise, they’ll page me.”

  Dominic stands as the doctor exits the waiting area. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go home.”

  “Brody, where will you go?”

  “I’m not leavin’,” I announce. “I’ll be fine, you two go get some sleep.” Putting his arm around Taryn, Dominic leads her out of the room.

  “Wait,” I call out to them. Turning, they both look at me. “There’s somethin’ I need to tell you, ‘cause I’m not sure you know yet.” A knot forms in my stomach. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news. “It’s about Travis.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut, her lip trembling. “I know,” she whispers.

  “I’m so sorry.” I don’t know how much weight my apology has, but I need to say it. “He was my boss and one of my closest friends.”

  “I’m sorry too,” she whimpers. She walks over, giving me a gentle hug. “We’ll see you in the morning. Go get some sleep,” she says as they leave.

  I’VE BEEN IN New York almost a week and the amount of tragedy I’ve experienced in this short amount of time is more than most people experience in a lifetime. I’ve checked in at the station and have been granted a leave of absence since I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.

  Lani’s still in critical care and I buried one of my closest friends. Since most of Travis’s family is on the east coast, the funeral was here instead of Texas. They buried him in a family plot, next to his grandparents. I was told Armond is being held without bail, but the trial can’t commence until Lani wakes up.

  This morning, like every morning for the past six days, I spend in the waiting room in the critical care unit. I haven’t left the hospital except to shower and attempt to sleep, but I haven’t been able to do more than catch a few hours here and there. After the third day of insomnia, I started staying at the hospital. At least I was here if there was any news.

  It’s as if my heart has been ripped out of my chest. Not seeing her is taking a toll on me. I can’t focus on anything but her. Her sweet scent. Her sassy spirit. The way her eyes sparkle when she smiles. The fact that she loves me. She doesn’t think I heard her, but I did. It’s the one thing that kept me going the day I got shot. I can’t lose her now.

  I’m hoping they’ll let me see her today. She’s been having complications from the surgery for the past few days and hasn’t been allowed visitors. At nine a.m., I walk up to the intensive care desk. “Mornin’, Becky,” I say, running my hand through my unkempt hair. I manage a weak smile. It’s all I can give.

  “Good morning, Brody. How are you?”

  “I’d be better if you told me I could go in and see her,” I admit.

  Chuckling, she says, “Well, your day just got a lot brighter. Doc said she can have visitors today.”

  “You’re not pullin’ my chain, right?” I ask, not quite sure I heard her.

  “No, sir. They’re doing rounds now, but in about half an hour, she’s all yours.”

  Reaching over the counter I grab her hand and place an enthusiastic kiss on the back of her palm. “Thanks you.” Pulling out my cell phone, I dial the phone number Taryn gave me the other day.

  “Hello,” she whimpers.

  “It’s me. Today’s the day,” I blurt out.

  “Really?” she gasps. “Ohmigod! Okay, let me get dressed. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  “Hurry,” I say, then hang up.

  I pace the length of the waiting room for what feels like hours. As I turn for the thousandth time, the waiting room door opens and a smiling Becky appears. “She’s ready for you, but remember, she’s still in a coma.”

  “Can she hear me?” I ask as I follow her down the hall.

  “Some say hearing a familiar voice can help coma patients recover their consciousness faster and start to respond to conversation and directions. I don’t know for sure, but I don’t see the harm in talking to her. Might be helpful to you as well.” Making a right down the hallway, she leads me to the third door on the right. Number 506. “Hold her hand. Tell her how special she is. She may respond to the sound of your voice,” she insists, standing at the entrance to Lani’s room.

  I walk in to see her beautiful face and slide a chair over from the corner, placing it by the side of her bed. She looks so peaceful, lying there surrounded by a halo of sunlight.

  “Hey there, darlin’,” I whimper, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to burst forth. Her skin is bruised and blotchy, but underneath it all lies my spitfire. My sassy girl. She’s a fighter. If anyone can come back from this, it’s her. “It’s time to wake up, sleepyhead.” I stroke her hand with the tips of my fingers, hoping she’ll feel it.

  Nothing.

  “Don’t make me tell you a story, you know I have lots of ’em,” I tease, skimming her cheek with the tips of my fingers.

  Nothing

  “Like this time Travis and I were workin’ overnights and we got a call,” I drift off for a moment. Running my good hand through my hand, I inhale and exhale a deep breath. God, I miss him.

  Nothing.

  “We rushed out to a house in the middle of nowhere . . . well, more in the middle of nowhere than normal. Anyway, the call was about a break-in, so we got out of the car with our guns in hand.”

  Nothing.

  “The young gal who made the call was on the front lawn hollerin’ her head off. Said there was someone in the house and she was freaked out ‘cause her parents weren’t home. So, Travis took the front door and I went ‘round back. As I entered the back door, I heard Travis yellin’. So, I ran through the house thinkin’ he was gettin’ stabbed or somethin’.”

  Nothing.

  “I found Travis sittin’ on the floor, laughin’ his ass off. So I said, ‘what the fuck?’ Still laughing, he pointed to the corner of the room. There in the corner was a goddamned billy goat. It jumped through the window and was chewin’ on somethin’ in the livin’ room,” I say, a weak laugh escaping me. God, he was so young. We had so many more good years.

  Nothing.

  “Funny story,” Taryn says from behind me.

  “Yeah, it was interestin’,” I say, turning my head to her voice “The poor girl was mortified. How long you been here?”

  “Long enough to hear about the goat. Any change?” she asks, moving to the other side of Lani’s bed.

  “No.” She strokes her face, moving some hair that’s stuck to her cheek.

  “Nurse said if someone familiar talks, it might help her wake up.”

  “Hey, sweetie,” Taryn coos. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” Turning, she places a picture frame on her n
ightstand. Inside is a photo of the two of them, smiling and laughing in front of a roaring fire. She looks so young and carefree.

  “Where was that taken?” I ask.

  “We were skiing all day in Vermont. She insisted we go inside and relax by the fire, said it’ll be one of those moments we’ll remember when we’re eighty.” Taryn looks at the photo with glossy eyes, fighting back tears. “She was right. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

  “You both look happy,” I utter. Seeing her laughing and relaxed puts a smile on my face.

  “Yeah. It was a good day,” she agrees, continuing to stroke Lani’s hair. “You remember that day, Delani?” Smiling, she adds, “You almost killed me coming off the lift, remember?”

  Nothing.

  Out the corner of my eye, I catch Lani’s doctor walk in. “Good morning,” he smiles.

  “What are the odds now after all the complications?” I ask, unable to contain my anxiety.

  “She’s stable. All we can do now is wait.”

  “Wait?” I argue. I’m done with waiting.

  “Yes. It’s up to her when she’ll wake up. All we can do is continue to monitor her and wait.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Taryn says, kissing Lani’s forehead.

  “If anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.” Smiling, he backs up and walks out the door.

  “So, Lani, huh?” Taryn asks, lifting a brow.

  “She hated it at first. Called her that more to get on her nerves, but the more I said it, the more it felt right.”

  “I kinda like it,” she giggles.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Brody

  IT’S BEEN THREE long days of nothing. Not a flinch, not a twitch, nothing. With each passing day, I worry she’s not going to come back to us. Taryn is the opposite. She says she knows how much Lani likes to sleep and is just really tired.

  Every day, Taryn sings her this song by Morrison something . . . or something Morrison. The song plays on a loop in my head and I hum the tune, singing, “Then magnificently, we will float, into the mystic.”