by J Grayland
“Thank you,” I said, giving her a weak smile and sitting down on one of the hard plastic chairs that made up several identical rows. Other anxious strangers waited nervously in the waiting room around me. As a doctor, it felt strange being on this side of the large metal doors. I pulled my phone from my purse, dialed Paxton’s number again, and listened as it went straight to voicemail. With a combination of frustration of not knowing and the stress of driving to the hospital, I felt myself starting to get that cold, familiar feeling in the middle of my chest. It’s hard to explain, but it started as an empty, cold void, which seemed to grow as it pulled all irrational thoughts from me into it, making it gain strength. It was followed by a tight feeling in my lungs that seemed to suck all the oxygen out of my body. Feeling the coldness starting, I pulled my earphones from my purse and pushed the buds into my ears. Connecting them to my phone, I flipped through my playlist, finding Enigma and pressing play. I closed my eyes and started to tame my breathing, matching it to the slow, pulsating beat of the music that started to permeate my brain, until it slowed, and I felt the coldness start to disappear. I visualized the music as patterns to distract me from the visions of Nate laying on a gurney somewhere beyond those doors.
Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I opened my eyes to find the receptionist standing in front of me. “Follow me, Mrs. King. I’ll take you through to your husband.” I stood, stuffed my phone back into my purse, and followed her to some glass doors, which slid open as she waved her ID over a small sensor on the wall. Walking behind her past the numerous doorways to rooms with patients lying in beds, I scanned my surroundings, taking in the hospital and the busy atmosphere of its halls. They were filled with trolleys, gurneys, staff, and patients, some sitting on the same hard, bright, red plastic chairs that were out in the waiting room. It felt like years since I had been a part of a hospital crew, working the floors assisting multiple patients. I hadn’t actually thought about work since I had been with Nate. Being back in this environment, with its familiar sterile scent and bustle of movement made me remember just for a second how much I loved my profession. My thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Paxton sitting outside a room, his elbows leaning on his knees. I raced up to where he sat, giving the kind receptionist a quick, “Thanks,” as I did.
“Paxton,” I said, causing his head to dart up and his eyes to lock on mine with surprise.
“Casey, how the fuck did you get here?” he said, standing to place his hands on my shoulders.
“I drove, what happened?”
“You drove?” he asked incredulously.
“Paxton, that doesn’t matter. Where is he, and what happened?” I asked again, raising my voice in frustration as I gripped his forearms. Seeing my anxiety, he pulled me into his arms.
“He’s okay. The doctor is with him now. He took a hit in the back of the head with a bottle, and it knocked him out cold. He lost consciousness for a while. That’s why they bought him to the hospital. Well, that, and because he needed stitches.” I felt myself relax just a little knowing that Nate wasn’t seriously hurt. At least he was alive. Paxton pulled back from me, and we sat down.
“Fuck, Casey, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I just wanted to let you know where we were and why Nate would be late getting back, but my phone cut off, and I couldn’t get any reception once they brought me back here to wait.”
“It’s okay, Paxton. I’m glad you called me.”
“Well, I’m not. Nate’s going to beat my ass when he finds out I caused you to panic enough to drive all the way here,” he said, shaking his head. I patted his arm with reassurance.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m just glad he’s alright, but I think you have a story to tell me while we wait, don’t you think?” I asked with a lifted brow.
Paxton cursed under his breath before laying out the whole story of what went down at the club that night. He mentioned that he had tried to reason with Nate to let the police handle the situation. I stopped him when he tried to explain why Nate tends to do things his own way because I knew exactly how he liked to have control of all situations. The door next to us opened, and a nurse came out and said, “You can come in and see him now.”
Standing, Paxton grabbed hold of my hand and led me in behind him. The first thing I saw was a paper bag sitting on a chair with Nate’s white shirt half hanging out of it, now soaked in blood. Looking over to the bed, my eyes locked onto his pale face, head propped up, his hair damp, and I could see the red stains from the blood still on the back of his neck and partly covering the top of one shoulder. His powerful chest was bare down to his waist, where a sheet covered his legs. My heart sank at the sight of him in this position, eyes closed, and looking so still. Walking to the side of the bed, I stroked my hand across his, feeling for its reassuring warmth. It caused his eyes to flutter open, and the corner of his mouth twitched into a grin.
“Casey?” his words sounded low and gruff.
“I’m here. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit in the head with a bottle,” he said, chuckling, then wincing at the effort.
“Very funny,” I said before turning my attention to the doctor, who was writing something on a hospital chart. I cleared my throat. “So, how is he?”
Placing the chart into its holder at the end of the bed, he turned to look at me.
“Remarkably good considering the power of the hit he took to the back of his skull. Hello, I’m Dr. Thomas, Head of Neurology,” he said, holding his hand out for me to shake.
“Casey,” I replied as I took his hand. “So, what’s the damage?”
“Nothing major, luckily. He has a 5 cm gash to the back of his head and a mild concussion. I’ve sutured the wound, but we want to keep him here overnight under observation due to the fact that he lost consciousness for a short period of time. He’s had an MRI that looks fine with no indication of anything abnormal. His films were actually pretty clear.”
“That’s good,” I sighed out with relief.
“Good, that means I can get out of here,” Nate said as he sat up on the bed, letting out a low hiss of pain and quickly bringing his hand to rub across his forehead.
“Oh, no, Mr. King. I’m afraid you’ll be spending the night here so we can keep a close eye on you. That was a serious blow to the head you took tonight. Everything looks good at the moment, but with a head injury, that can change over a 24-hour period,” Dr. Thomas said sternly.
Nate sat up on the bed, pulling the sheet from around his legs and dropping his feet to the floor. Thankfully, he still had his jeans on. “It’s alright, Doc, she’s a doctor,” he said, pointing at me. Dr. Thomas turned to me, and I gave him a nod.
“Yes, I’m an ER surgeon, but Nate, the doctor is right. You need to spend the night,” I said, looking at Nate who had already pulled on his boots and was pulling his blood-soaked shirt from the paper bag it was in.
“I’m fine, and there’s nothing more they can do here that you can’t do at home.”
“Nate, please don’t be stubborn about this. I’ll stay, as well, and I’ll sleep in the chair.”
Nate turned his sights on Paxton, who was leaning against the wall. “Paxton,” he said in a cross between a pleading and a commanding tone.
“Come on, Nate, don’t give them a hard time. Just stay for the night,” Paxton said, walking toward his brother.
Nate continued to pull on his shirt and do up the buttons. “Look, Doc, I appreciate that you’re worried about my health, but I can assure you, I have managed to survive much more serious wounds than this,” he said, motioning to the back of his head. “And I promise that if I feel worse overnight, I will come straight back to the hospital, but right now, I want to get into my own bed, in my own home, and sleep. So just give me the discharge papers, and I will sign myself out and take full responsibility.”
Nate’s eyes flittered between Paxton, Dr. Thomas, and me, an
d seeing the look of determination in his eyes, combined with pain and just plain exhaustion, I backed down and acquiesced to his wish. “It’s okay, Dr. Thomas. Just let me take him home. I will be with him all night, and I’ll check his neuro observations hourly. I can assure you that if there is the slightest change, he will be coming back to the hospital, even if I have to drag him here kicking and screaming,” I said through tight lips to Nate, and the cheeky asshole winked at me.
“Okay, I don’t agree, but at least he’s with a professional. I’ll just get your discharge form and get you something for the pain.” Dr. Thomas sighed in defeat as he left the room.
“What the fuck, Nate?” Paxton bit out, causing Nate to wince.
“Please, don’t yell, and don’t lecture me, Paxton. I just want to go home, okay?”
It took about another twenty minutes of sitting in the waiting room until we had the discharge papers and some strong pain medication before we could finally leave. Walking out of the front doors, Paxton said, “I’m parked in the secure parking under the hospital, so I’ll drive us back and pick up my car tomorrow. Where did you park, Casey?”
I pointed over at the SUV. “I’m parked over here,” I said, pulling the keys from my purse and unlocking it. Nate just stopped and gazed at me.
“You drove here?” he asked between gritted teeth.
“Uh huh.”
Then he turned to look at Paxton. “And you let her?” he growled.
“No one let me do anything. I drove here to get to you, so stop with all this alpha shit, and get in the back seat,” I seethed through pursed lips at Nate and tossed the keys to Paxton to drive, getting in the back seat with Nate.
“Here, put your head on my lap, and try and sleep on the way back,” I told Nate.
“Babe,” he started to protest, but I stopped him.
“Can you please, just for once, not question anything,” I said, and with a sigh, he stretched out as much as he could on the back seat, placing his head on my lap. He brought his arm up over my knees so his hand was holding my waist. It was as though he wanted to bury his face into my stomach. Stroking my hand softly over his forehead, I pushed the hair away from his eyes, leaned down, and placed a kiss against his temple. “Just relax and sleep,” I whispered against his cheek, and within minutes, I felt his body relax as his breathing became deeper.
The drive home was silent, and when we pulled up at the house, Paxton helped me get a sleepy Nate out of the SUV and into bed. He took the SUV home and arranged to get his own car back in the morning. He figured Nate wouldn’t be needing it tomorrow, as he wouldn’t be fit to come into work anyway. With a hug and a goodbye, I was left to look after the bear with a sore head, literally. I always thought he would be a nightmare of a patient to look after, and so far, I was right. Going into the bathroom, I filled up a bowl with warm water and grabbed a cloth, taking it around to where he lay on the bed and placing it on the bedside table. I also took two of the pills the doctor had prescribed and a glass of water to him.
“Nate, open your mouth and swallow these, they will help with the pain.” He groaned, opened his eyes then his mouth for me to place the pills on his tongue, followed by a sip of water. I pulled at the bloodied shirt he was wearing and eventually got it free. After squeezing out the warm, wet cloth, I wiped some of the dried blood off his shoulder and around his neck. It wasn’t a great job, but it was better than nothing.
Standing, I undid the belt on his jeans and pulled them down and off, dropping them onto the floor and covering him with the sheet. Sitting down next to him, I took the small torch that I kept in the bedside table and lifted first his right eyelid, then his left, and checked his pupils, making him groan again. It’s going to be a long night, I thought, pulling up the armchair next to the bed. I wrapped myself in a blanket and curled up next to him with my phone. My alarm was set for precisely one hour. At this stage, I was completely drained, and I knew that as soon as I relaxed into the chair, I would be asleep, but as long as I had the alarm to keep waking me every hour to check his neuro obs, I would be happy.
Throughout the night, I checked Nate hourly. The medication they gave him at the hospital seemed to keep him pain free and fast asleep, which was exactly what he needed. I slept in between the alarms until morning, when I watched the sun come up over the ocean with a hot, strong mug of tea in my hand out on the back porch, I came back in when I heard Nate’s gravelly sounding voice calling out.
“Casey?”
“I’m here,” I called out as I went into the bedroom and sat on the bed next to him. “Hey, how’s your head feeling this morning?” I said, running my fingers softly over his brows.
“Like shit. What time is it?” he asked groggily.
“Just after 6 a.m.”
He leaned up on his elbows before wincing and laying his head back onto the pillow. “Now, now, big guy, take it easy. I’ll get you some more pain meds and some coffee, okay? You just stay where you are. Don’t even think about getting out of bed today,” I warned him.
When I returned with some hot, buttered toast and a hot mug of black coffee, he was sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard. I placed the plate with the toast on the bedside table and handed him the coffee. He drank a mouthful and moaned, “That tastes so good.”
“I bet it does. I think they kept you nil by mouth at the hospital last night.”
“How the fuck did you manage to drive to the hospital?” he asked.
“Don’t you think you had better tell me how the fuck you ended up in the hospital with a hole in your head first?” I retorted.
“It’s a long story.”
“I have time because you are not going anywhere today,” I said, prodding my index finger into the middle of his chest.
While Nate explained the events that unfolded at the club last night, I helped him eat his toast. Well, more like I hand fed him his toast because he never ate breakfast unless I made him.
“So, they at least arrested one of them right? The barman?” I said.
“Yeah, but I don’t think it will take them long to coax a name out of him,” he said.
“I hope so. The coward hit you from behind,” I said angrily.
“I’ve had worse,” Nate shrugged.
“I’ve no doubt you have, you just didn’t have me to frantically worry about you.”
Nate placed his empty mug on the bedside table. “Come here,” he said, pulling me into his arms and running a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, babe. I really didn’t expect there to be a problem. I didn’t mean for you to worry, and I certainly didn’t mean for you to drive. Jesus, if anything had happened to you…”
“Well, it didn’t. I did alright, actually. I mean, I almost had a heart attack and peed myself when I first got onto the road. I’m pretty sure anyone behind me went around because I was hugging the curb, but it wasn’t too bad. In fact, I think it’s something I will enjoy.” I grinned at him, and he kissed the top of my head.
“You’ll get used to it. I just planned on being in the SUV with you the first time you went out on the road.”
I stayed there, wrapped in his arms with my cheek pressed against his naked warm chest for a while, just enjoying his touch and the feeling of relief that he was alright. Although he hated being treated like an invalid, I pulled away from him to checks his neuro obs again. Once I was satisfied that everything was okay and the wound on the back of his head was not bleeding, I assisted him with taking a shower. He didn’t seem to mind that part of being an invalid at all, especially when I helped to wash all the remnants of blood from the back of his neck whilst keeping the wound and stitches dry. It always amazed me how men, no matter how sick or injured they were, could always manage to get an erection in any situation. I convinced him, with great difficulty, that having any kind of sexual activity at the moment was not good for his concussion, and that he didn’t need
to be doing anything that might raise his blood pressure. I did allow him to trade our bed for the couch in the living room, though, so he could relax in front of the TV. Honestly, I was pretty sure he enjoyed being pampered for the day, even though he would never admit it.
Chapter Twenty-two
Nate
Waking up this morning was painful. My head throbbed like a son of a bitch, and the pain in the back of my head stung. Opening my eyes, even slowly, caused discomfort, but I wanted to make sure that I was in my own bed. I remembered insisting on leaving the hospital and getting into the SUV. Then I remembered the distinct smell and feel of Casey and laying down alongside the comfort of her presence, allowing me to drift back to sleep. I struggled to recall much more until I turned to see Casey curled up in a chair next to the bed. This was my heaven, watching her while she slept. I craved these moments when I woke before her and watched her in that blissful state. I think it’s because when she’s asleep, she looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like she’s not worried about anything, completely relaxed.
Her feet were curled up under her and her hands were clasped together against her cheek as she leaned against them. Her lips were slightly parted, and I could see her pulse beating steadily under the soft, creamy skin of her throat. Damn, why was she sleeping in a chair and not in bed? A pang of guilt hit me when I remembered the doctor at the hospital saying something about checking me every hour. Shit! That’s what she had done. She’d stayed up all night just to take care of me, and now she was cramped up in a chair. I tried to lever myself into a sitting position, but my head was hit with an explosion of pain that instantly made me retreat and drop my head back onto the pillow. I closed my eyes for a moment to try and ease the throbbing behind my eyelids. The next thing that I remembered was opening my eyes and looking at a now empty chair. Calling out her name, I was instantly rewarded with the sight of her sitting in front of me, her beautiful, blue eyes wide and tinged with worry as she asked, “Hey, how’s your head feeling this morning?”
