by Jane Anthony
“I’ll take care of everything here. Just go.”
The officer turns on his heel and heads for the exit. Nikos wraps his arm around me tightly, propelling us onward to follow him while my feet feel like they’re buried in concrete. I didn’t ask how bad it was—I don’t want to know—I just need to get there and see for myself.
A trickle of blood seeps across my nude lips from the chunk of thumbnail skin I can’t stop gnawing. The ride to St. Paul’s Hospital takes a lifetime, though maybe it’s my impatience playing tricks on me.
My nerves rattle like a set of old bones. Nikos assured me that he’s okay, but I can’t believe it until I see it. I need to see him, hold him, smell him . . . Until I’ve accomplished those three things, the shit show of horrific images in my head are never going to stop. What if he’s paralyzed? What if he’s comatose? What if he doesn’t know who I am when I get there?
When Nikos pulls out in front, I jump from his Range Rover and take off, running through the emergency room entrance like a lunatic in white, the long train of my dress flowing out behind me. “Tanner Chase Junior,” I pant to the woman behind the wraparound desk. Her thin lashes flutter in quick succession as she stands back, taking in the sight of me. A hysterical woman draped in lace, black and blue hair pinned on one side by a feathered flower, a sopping mess of tears and smeared black eye makeup. Her slow, methodical tapping on the keyboard wears my patience thin. Doesn’t she know it’s an emergency? Doesn’t she realize my heart will surely stop beating the moment his does?
“He’s in surgery. Have a seat and someone will be out to talk to you as soon as they can.”
I stumble backward, my lips quivering with fear. “Please, tell me what happened. I can’t just sit and wait for the news to shatter me.”
The woman’s gaze shifts from me back to the screen in front of her. “It says here he was brought in from a car accident.”
“And?”
“I’m sorry, miss. You’ll have to wait for the doctor.” Her sympathetic tone pisses me off, which is actually better for me. Sadness and I have never been buddies. I don’t know how to handle it. Anger I can work with.
I trot back to the waiting area in a huff, tearing the woman limb from limb in my mind. Sickening stares bore holes through me as I stalk back and forth, waiting for the doctor to come out and give me the news. I just know it’s going to be bad. Happiness comes with a price. Nothing in life is free. Chase and I have been coasting on our mirth for far too long. It was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down around us.
I have no idea how long I’ve been wearing a track in this singular piece of shitty gray carpet when Athena wanders through the door looking like she’s lost. “Jesus, Kat, I’ve been calling you for an hour.” The curly tendrils of her updo still hang around her face, an absurd contrast to the yoga pants and Golden Girls tee she’s now wearing. She takes my hand and pulls me to the row of plastic chairs against the wall. “What’s going on?”
“He’s in surgery. Still waiting for the doctor.” My stomach somersaults, but the tears in my eyes have long dried up. I’m pretty sure I’ve cried myself empty at this point.
In one maneuver, Athena lets the tote bag fall off her shoulder and swings it onto the chair. “Zeus is fine. I grabbed him from the police station, then stopped at your house and got you some clothes.”
“Thanks, Thene. I . . .”
My brain goes into hysterics when a middle-aged woman in purple scrubs comes waltzing through the emergency room door. The breath stalls in my chest as she meets my gaze and continues moving toward me. She extends her hand. “You must be Katarina.” A fresh set of tears wells in my eyes. It turns out I’m not dry after all. “I’m Dr. Fisher.” She extends her hand, her icy fingers wrapping around mine. “Your fiancé was hit by a car. His left tibia broke in several places, causing a compound fracture in his leg. We’ve reset the bone and sewed up the wound. He should be up and around in a day or so.”
The warmth of Athena’s hand spreads across my back as the relief washes over me. “When can I see him?”
“He’s stable and resting in his room now. You can head in . . . through there and to the right. The first room on the left,” she says, gesturing to the set of glass doors she came through.
“You want me to go with you?” Athena asks.
“No, Thene. It’s okay. You can go. I’m going to stay with him. Thanks for everything.” When I wrap my arms around my cousin’s slender shoulders, she damn near squeezes me to death. Athena has been singing Chase’s praises from the moment we met. Somehow, she always knew we’d be great together.
I grumble out a thank you to the doctor next, then wander toward the doors, hurling myself through when they magically open for me. The nose-stinging stench of bleach smacks me in the face the minute I’m through. I move one peep-toe pump in front of the other, listening to the way they echo on the stark linoleum and trying my best not to lose what little breakfast I had.
The door to his room comes up quicker than I anticipated, and I freeze. The last time I was in a hospital, I was the one clinging to life while Chase patiently waited at my bedside. It feels like a lifetime ago. A rock sits in my gut. Chase has saved me every day since the moment we met. What if I can’t do the same for him?
Chapter 4
Chase
A concrete feeling sits upon my limbs. I crack open my lids, groggy-eyed from too much sleep. It’s quiet, save for the robotic beep that occurs every few seconds from the machines next to me. As the room comes into view, I’m greeted by the unfamiliar face of a woman in scrubs. Shredded-wheat wisps of tawny hair fall from her messy ponytail and hang around her face. I blink twice, trying to focus, but I have no idea what the fuck is going on.
“Look who’s awake.” Her voice sounds as if it’s coming through a tunnel. A cold rush of panic floods my veins. I try to flee, but my body won’t move, which only worsens the hysteria. “It’s okay, Mr. Chase! You’re in a hospital. You’ve just woken up from surgery.”
Memory snapshots pop in my fuzzy brain. Surgery. The car. The wedding. Fuck, that’s right.
My guilty gaze travels to the little tube dispensing the beautiful poison directly into my veins. I was lucid before the surgery. They managed to ask the appropriate questions. What's your name? Where were you headed? Do you know what happened? When they asked if I had any addictions, my tongue froze. My brain screamed yes, but my head moved back and forth. I lied. I told them no.
“Did you call my fiancée?” I manage, looking up as the nurse busies herself around me. The sky outside has changed from a bold shade of azure to deep cobalt. Kat and I should have already said I do. If I hadn’t been so reckless, I’d be with her, hearing her needy moans whimpering in my ear. Instead, I landed here, busted and broken, alone with my regret.
“You know, I’m not sure,” she answers, her squeaky voice more pleasant than it sounded a few minutes ago. “I can ask at the desk.” I adjust my bed, grimacing as it pushes me up as far into a sitting position as I can go. Thick bandages covering my right side hold together a few broken ribs. My leg is casted in plaster, having been fitted with a rod and pins. All things considered, I’m lucky it was only my leg—the tibia, to be exact—and I’m going to walk out of here good as new. Eventually.
“My name’s Hannah. Call the nurses’ station if you need anything.” With that, she speed walks from the room, leaving me alone. The hazy thoughts rolling through my mind get pushed aside by a set of timid footsteps clacking in the doorway.
Charcoal eyes glisten as Kat steps inside. Dressed in white, she’s more gorgeous than I ever imagined she would be. The long lace gown clutches her hourglass figure. It trails behind her, the delicate train making her appear as though she’s floating toward me. An angel come to save my tortured soul.
A slow smile creeps across my face as she enters. “There’s my girl.”
A river of tears floods her cheeks; a salty mix of horror, fear, and sheer relief washes over her
face. She rushes toward me, pressing her lips against my mouth, chin, and jaw. “Shhhh. Baby, you’re shaking.”
“I was so scared, Chase. I thought . . . I don’t even want to say what I thought.”
She doesn’t have to because I already know. She thought I left her. After all this time, she’s still not sure. I’ll never forgive myself for putting her through this.
Holding her face in both hands, I stroke my thumbs across her wet cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Kat. I’m sorry I scared you, and I’m sorry I ruined everything.”
“I don’t care about any of that. I only care about you.” She settles on the edge of my bed with lines of worry etched on her face. “They said you were hit by a car,” she says, running her hand over my sheet-covered torso. The peaks and valleys of my stomach ripple under her fingertips, the action forcing another wince.
“It came out of nowhere and tagged me in the middle of an intersection.”
A fresh set of tears fills her warm, brown eyes. “Are you in a lot of pain?”
“Nah, I’m good.” Too good. My leg is shattered, and I’ve just had major surgery, yet I feel incredible. Tingles travel the length of my body. I feel them in my toes and the tips of my fingers. That prickle in my nuts I’m far too familiar with.
“You sure?”
Swallowing hard, I nod. “I’m fine.” I decide on the spot that Kat doesn’t need to know my shameful little secret. An omission of information isn’t quite the same thing as a lie, is it? It’s hospital-grade pharmaceuticals—not nearly in the same league as my drug of choice—yet the euphoria feels strangely similar.
Heroin hits like an explosion of bliss. This amazing, orgasmic warmth that pulses through your body, hitting you like a Mac truck as soon as you finish pushing the plunger down. Pure euphoria. This is more slow and deliberate. Enough to soften the pain and buff out the sharp corners, smooth and mellow.
I miss it sometimes. The rush, the ecstasy, the damn ritual that churned my insides with excitement. Only an addict can truly understand the perfect thrill. It never goes away no matter how long it’s been. A week, a month, a year . . . or four. It’s always there, a tiny want, a tick clinging to the base of your brain stem. It feeds off your energy, steadily growing until it’s too large to pick off.
I am stronger than my addiction.
Yeah. Sure, I am.
“You look really beautiful.”
“Well, at least one of us does.” A sad smile sits on her face as she reaches out to touch the bandage on my head, then leans in to kiss it. The sweet scent of apples invades my senses. Even lying here broken and bandaged doesn’t squelch the intense need I have for her.
“I’ll be all right if you wanna go home and change.”
“I’m never leaving you, baby. Athena already dropped off some clothes. I’m all yours.” She reaches out running her fingertips over my eyebrow. “They took your piercings out.”
“Oh, yeah. They had to before the surgery. They’re over there,” I reply, thumbing toward the kidney-shaped bowl on my bedside table.
“You want me to put them back?”
I shrug. “May as well.” There’s that tunnel vision again. Fuck.
She leans to grab the bowl, the crystal chandelier earrings dangling from her lobes swaying with the movement. “Hold still,” she murmurs, a look of determination creasing between her eyes as she lifts the first piece of jewelry. She pinches my brow and pushes the mini barbell from bottom to top. She does the same with my lip ring next. “There ya go. Good as new.”
“You forgot one.”
Her gaze flits to my lower half, a sexy smirk twisting her lips. “I’m sure you can handle that one.”
I shrug, the corner of my mouth lifting. “I can’t really bend. For better or worse, right?”
Blue and black tendrils fall across her shoulder as she chucks a glance at the closed door before pushing the sheet aside. Her eyes dance over my naked cock. It’s not surprising. He’s quite impressive. A thick slab of meat that at one time made me money but now belongs solely to her. She’s owner and master. The puppeteer that controls him at will.
She quirks a brow and side-eyes me. “Are you seriously getting hard right now?”
Between the medicine coursing through my blood and the insane scenario taking place at the present moment, I can’t help but grin. “Been a while since you touched it.”
“You’re such a perv. Let me know if this hurts,” she whispers, lining up the four-gauge barbell with the tiny hole in the shaft. Carefully, she works it through until it pokes out the other side, then attaches the ball at the end to hold it secure. “How’s that?”
I reply with a muddled sound. Somewhere between a grunt and a fine that comes out all distorted and groggy. “Come lay with me,” I mutter, gesturing her over with a two-fingered come hither.
“Okay, baby. Lemme get out of this dress first.”
“Wait.” My fingers close around her wrist. “I fucked up a lot in my life, but this . . .” A storm cloud of feelings whirls in my gut, but the one wreaking the most havoc at the moment is remorse. “I’m a fucking idiot. I should have been holding Zeus tighter, paying attention to the traffic, not looking at my phone . . .”
The corners of her plump little mouth curve down. “Your phone?” I watch in slow motion as the light in her eyes dims, another fresh wave of salt water brimming the line of her thick black lashes. “This is my fault.”
“No, no. Kat. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. Fuck . . . don’t blame yourself for this.”
“How can I not? I distracted you! If I hadn’t been blowing up your phone with text messages, it never would have happened!”
“Baby, the dog pulled me into traffic. If anything, blame Zeus.” I force a comforting smile on my face. Shit like this is no one’s fault. Our fate is written before it even happens. But I know Kat, and I know the feelings of guilt will gradually start to fester. She’ll overthink it until her brain feels like it’s ready to bleed, allowing it to eat away at her like a cancer.
“That fuckin’ dumb dog.” A crackle of laughter pops through the tears. “I’m gonna make a coat out of him.”
“Then I’ll make some socks out of the little rat you call a dog,” I joke.
“You leave my Aphro out of this. She’s an innocent bystander!” Kat’s tears are long forgotten as we jump into our usual routine of sarcastic banter and witty retorts. This is good. This is us.
“Now go change and come snuggle with me.” I jut out my bottom lip as she turns and disappears into the bathroom. Yeah, it’s childish, but whatever. I'm a grown man with mommy issues, and she eats that shit up with a spoon.
A few minutes later, my sweet girl returns. A tank top and shorts have replaced the fields of white satin and lace. No trace of the glamazon she is by day remains. Only a fresh face, lit up by the soft glimmer of moonlight filtering through the blinds.
She pads across the linoleum tile, stopping at the corner of my bed. “Why are you looking at me like that?” A small smile curls up the corner of her soft pink lips. The dim light of evening gives her face an innocent glow. The way she looks up, peering at me through thick lashes with her mouth half cocked and slightly parted, I almost forget where we are. All I know is I want to be exactly wherever she is.
“I just can't believe how lucky I am.”
“Scooch over.” I shift to the left as best I can, and she slides in on her side. “I’m pretty sure we’ll get yelled at for this,” she whispers, cozying up on the side of me still intact.
“I don’t care.” And I don’t. Truly. No matter what happens, as long as I have her in my arms, everything is copacetic.
Reaching up, I cup her face in my hand, reveling in the silken-soft feel of her skin. A contented sigh leaves her lips. This is heaven. Lying this close, she wears her sleepy little smile with her head on my chest. It’s everything I ever wanted, everything I hoped for in the miserable wasteland I called my life. I spent the first half of my life in a fog. There was not
hing before her, only bitter blackness engulfing my will to move on.
My fingers catch under her chin and tilt her face up to mine. Closing the distance between us, I meet her lips, softly drinking in the tiniest taste of her. The sigh of pleasure I get in return heats my blood like fire bursting in a frozen hearth. She melts against me, letting me love her mouth with slow, sensual flicks of my tongue as my fingers curl into the loose ponytail behind her head.
“Chase,” she whispers in the dark, moving past my lips over the thin layer of stubble covering my jaw. My leg may be fucked, but the rest of my body still works like a well-oiled machine, ready and raring to go. Tightening my grip on her back, I roll her on top of me. The heat from her core radiates through her thin cotton shorts.
“We shouldn’t do this, Chase. You just had surgery,” she mumbles against my lips, but my hand tightens, holding her to me and taking fistfuls of hair in the process, still kissing her with a ferocity that transcends time and space.
“I feel more alive than I have in weeks, and nothing's gonna stop me from getting what I want. Not some silly accident. Not some stupid surgery.”
When Kat pulls back, her shining eyes glisten, her lips red and puffy. I can tell by the tremble of her hips that she can feel me hard and ready pressed against the seam of her opening. All it will take is one little push to send her plummeting over the edge.
The tip of my pointer follows the scooping neckline of her tank top. “I used to hear you at night when you thought I was asleep. I’d lie there silent and listen to your raspy breath and quiet whimpers as you released your own built-up ache.”
Breath hitches in her throat, the pulse in her neck jumping as I sweep my fingertip over the swell of her breasts. I love that I have this effect on her. The tiniest touch burns her to ash. The connection we have is unlike any other. Stronger than the howling wind, more powerful than the pounding rain. An unstoppable force that whips around, keeping us tethered.
