What I Need

by J. Daniels

  The window at the front of the venue.

  My back hits the floor inside The Red Door. Then my head, snapping back as a weight presses down on my chest.

  People inside the club scream out.

  I groan, eyes closed as I try and move my left leg. A fire spreads through it, burning me from below. I can feel the warmth flowing under my knee and up beneath my thigh. A thousand needles sting my back.

  The weight on my chest is removed. Glass breaks around my head, then I hear my name being screamed, over and over.

  “Oh, my God! Let me through! Move! Move out of the way!”

  Riley.

  Something presses on my knee, then a little lower where the fire is.

  “Call 911! He needs to get to a hospital!”

  I flinch, jerking my body. My shirt moves and fingers tug at my jeans.

  “CJ, stay with me, okay?” Riley says through a shaky voice over the noise around us. Her warm hands hold my face and her breath tickles my lips. “Just hold on. I gotta use your belt as a tourniquet. I need to wrap it around your leg so we can stop the bleeding. An ambulance is coming, but you’re bleeding a lot. I need to stop it.”

  I make a noise in my throat. I feel like I’m choking.

  I want to look at Riley. I want to open my eyes and see those blue flames, let them burn me up instead of this fire I’m feeling now, but I can’t.

  I’m tired. My eyes are so fucking heavy. I can’t open them.

  Pain explodes in my leg as something tightens around it.

  I groan, arching my back off the floor and gritting my teeth. I feel the flames everywhere now.

  “Shh. It’s okay,” Riley cries over me. “Just hold on. They’re coming. They’ll be here soon.”

  My entire body starts shaking. Sweat breaks out all over as the fire continues to scald my skin. Continues to spread. It’s burning fast now.

  “CJ?”

  I want to sleep.

  Riley’s hands are on my face again. I can taste her breath. Her tears are wetting my lips.

  “Please,” she whispers, voice breaking. “Please, hold on.”

  Darkness closes around me. The fire burns out.

  I no longer feel it.

  I no longer feel anything.

  CHEWING ON MY cuticle, I pace between the rows of chairs in the waiting room at St. Joseph’s Hospital.

  Curious eyes follow my movement. I know why I’m being watched. I have blood all over me.

  CJ’s blood.

  I can typically handle the sight of it, which is a good thing considering the profession I chose. It’s never bothered me before. I’m not a squeamish girl. I never have been.

  But seeing the puddle pooling around CJ, thick and bright red, and the way it was flowing like a river out of his leg . . .

  I couldn’t handle it.

  I couldn’t handle it because it was someone I knew and cared about. I couldn’t handle it because it was CJ.

  He lost consciousness. I watched him slipping away. I tried talking to him and keeping him with me, but the blood . . .

  There was too much.

  Thank God the paramedics arrived when they did.

  I followed behind the ambulance while I made frantic phone calls and sent out texts. And now I’m waiting.

  CJ is in surgery and I can’t sit down or stand still. I can’t stop looking up every time a hospital worker pushes through the doors leading to the back. They’re carrying a clipboard and calling a name, but it’s not CJ’s name. It’s never CJ’s name.

  What if they’re having complications?

  My stomach rolls as the Emergency Room doors slide open again. I glance up and watch Ben, Luke, and Tessa hurry through. This stops my pacing.

  “What happened?” Ben asks me. He looks at the front of my shirt. “Jesus Christ. Are you all right?”

  “Riley, are you bleeding?” Tessa wraps her hand around my arm. Her skin pales.

  “No.” I quickly shake my head. “No, it’s not mine.”

  “Fuck,” Luke mutters, pushing his hands through his hair and gripping the back of his head.

  They all look concerned and as worried as I feel.

  “He’s in surgery,” I inform them. “He cut his leg pretty bad. I don’t know anything yet. I’m waiting.”

  “What the fuck happened?” Ben asks again, pulling his arms across his chest. He looks angry now.

  With me? Do they all blame me for this?

  Maybe they should.

  I look between their faces, and then at the floor. “Um, he was pushed through a window . . . by my boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend.”

  For real this time. We’re through. Over.

  Officially over.

  I made that clear after I watched Richard get arrested. I screamed our ending at the cop car window he sat behind. I made sure he knew we were finished before I followed the ambulance to the hospital. I didn’t want any confusion or mishearing of words.

  I sniffle when my nose begins to burn again. “He was trying to get me to leave with him and CJ saw. He knew Richard was on something.”

  “What was he on?” Ben asks.

  “Coke.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Tessa says. She gives my arm a squeeze.

  “Luke,” Ben growls.

  I lift my eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m on it.” Luke moves away while tugging his phone out of his pocket.

  “Riley.”

  I turn back to Ben. “Mm?”

  “You’re not hurt? You’re all right?”

  “I’m not hurt,” I reply with a quiet voice.

  The pain in my chest calls me a liar.

  The Emergency Room doors slide open again, and Reed and Beth walk through. Beth pulls her hand free and rushes over.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispers against my ear. Her warm arms wrap around me. She’s in her pajamas. She doesn’t mind that I have blood on my shirt. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head, locking eyes with Reed when he steps up behind his wife. He looks bothered and bone-breaking angry. I never thought Reed could hate Richard any more than he already did.

  I was wrong.

  Ben grabs his attention and fills him in on what I just shared, while Tessa and Beth fire a million questions at me.

  “Did you know he was doing drugs?”

  “Whose coke was it?”

  “Was he doing it at home too?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Riley?”

  I answer what I can, that I’m fine. I don’t know the answers to anything else.

  “He’s being booked in Kent County,” Luke announces, returning to the group. “Drug and assault charges. You trying to go down there?”

  Ben lifts his chin. “Yeah. Let’s get word on CJ first. I wanna make sure he’s all right.” Ben looks to Tessa. “Do me a favor and call Mia. She’s up. Let her know what’s going on.”

  Tessa nods and takes Luke’s phone. They both move to grab a seat. Ben follows.

  Beth keeps hold of my hand.

  “Riley.”

  I look up at Reed after he speaks. My lip trembles. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper with tears in my eyes.

  He blinks, brow furrowing. “What? Why? Jesus, this wasn’t your fault. It was that fucking dickhead’s fault. Come here.”

  Reed grabs the back of my neck and pulls me against him, hugging me to his chest. He holds me tight.

  I hold him tighter.

  “You got nothing to be sorry for, okay?” he soothes against the top of my head.

  I don’t nod or say ‘okay’ back. I don’t believe him.

  “Thank fuck CJ was there. Shit. You could’ve left with that asshole.”

  Reed’s words don’t offer me the comfort he’s trying to give. They can’t.

  My guilt is too heavy. It’s the only thing I can feel.

  “You’re not hurt? You swear?” he asks.

  “I swear.”

  “Tully? Do I have family here for CJ Tully?”

  I turn out of
Reed’s hold and face the nurse who just spoke. She’s wearing surgical scrubs and holding a patient file. The rest of the group crowds at my back.

  “Yeah. How is he?” Luke asks.

  She smiles gently. “He’s doing fine. He’s in recovery. You’ll be able to see him in about an hour.”

  A collective sigh leaves the group. Beth gives my hand a light squeeze, and I turn and look at her.

  He’s okay.

  “Thank fuck,” Ben says after the nurse moves away. He rakes his hands down his face, then turns to Luke. “All right. You ready?”

  Luke nods. “Handle this, then we’ll come back here.” He looks to Tessa. “You stayin’, babe?”

  “Yep. I want to see him.”

  “We’re hanging out too,” Reed says, throwing his arm around Beth when she moves to stand beside him. “Why don’t you head home, Riley? Get some rest.”

  My lips part. I look to Beth and watch her eyes soften and a frown tug at her mouth. She hears it too.

  You don’t belong here with us.

  CJ is their friend. Not mine. Why would I hang around? I’m not a part of their group.

  I don’t belong here.

  “Yeah, I probably should . . . get cleaned up,” I say, tugging at the hem of my blood-stained shirt.

  Ben and Luke utter their collective “Laters” and head out. Tessa gives me a smile before she reclaims her seat near the soda machine. I hug Beth one last time, then watch her and Reed join Tessa. They turn their chairs so they’re facing each other, and wave at me as I walk past.

  None of them ask me to stay. Nobody even suggests it.

  I cry the entire way back to Richard’s house.

  It’s been two days since the night of the concert.

  Two days of walking the same hospital halls and staring at the muted paint colors. Two days of smelling antiseptic in the air.

  We’ve all been here—Reed and Beth and Tessa, Ben and Luke when they weren’t working, and the boys, Nolan and Chase. Mia brought them. Everyone has been in and out of the hospital, visiting CJ.

  Everyone but me.

  I’ve been here, but I’ve gone unseen for the most part. I haven’t been in his room to see him. Saturday, both times that I came by and Sunday when I showed up after I was finished at the soup kitchen I volunteer at, CJ had visitors. His friends and my family or other cops that were in uniform, they gathered in his room. People who should be visiting him. People he has history with. And once I saw his company, I left.

  What did I have with him? Why would I have reason to visit? I didn’t even belong in the waiting room with everyone else.

  Besides not knowing if I have a reason to be in CJ’s room, I’m scared to face him. So nervous my stomach is in knots as I walk in through the main hospital entrance on my third day in a row and head for the elevators.

  It’s my fault he’s in here. It’s my fault he had to have emergency surgery after lacerating his Achilles. I dragged Richard to that concert instead of letting him stay at home and because of that, CJ was hurt.

  CJ was hurt and Richard is now in jail.

  Not that I care about Richard anymore. I don’t. Not after what he did. Not after I found out he was high that night. But I do care about CJ. He had gotten hurt trying to get to me. He wanted to protect me from the boy I gave my heart to. I know he did. I saw his face before he was pushed through that window. He tried to protect me and I got him hurt.

  I did this. This is all my fault.

  What if he doesn’t want to see me now? What if he’s angry and he tells me I have no business visiting him?

  What if he hates me for what I let happen?

  Wiping my sweaty palms on my scrub pants, I step off the elevator and peer around the corner, looking for Reed or anyone else who might question my reason for being on this floor.

  It’s Monday, so everyone should be working, but I’m still cautious. I need to be.

  The hallway is clear of anyone besides hospital workers filtering in and out of rooms. Feeling good about that, I round the corner and start moving.

  I just want to tell CJ how sorry I am. And I really want to make sure he’s going to be okay. I know his surgery went well, and Beth told me yesterday CJ seems to be making a steady recovery, but I want to see it for myself.

  I need to see it for myself. I need to get the image of him lying in a pool of blood out of my head.

  Deep voices stop me just before I reach CJ’s room. I plaster myself against the wall and listen, head turned toward the door. I recognize one of the voices as Ben.

  “You pulled this shit on purpose. Don’t lie,” he laughs. “I saw the nurses that are coming in here.”

  “For real. How many times has that one asked if you need your linens changed?” Luke’s voice filters out into the hallway next.

  I pinch my eyes shut.

  Crap.

  What if they see me? They could easily tell Reed I was lurking outside CJ’s room. And that’ll just stir up suspicions.

  Although . . .

  I look down at myself.

  My uniform. Yes. I can just say I’m here for clinical, which I am, just not entirely. I’ll only be half-lying. I can pull off a half-lie. No problem.

  Of course, they are cops. Human lie detectors. This could totally backfire on me.

  Can I be thrown in jail for lying to the police?

  Maybe I’ll just try and see CJ on my lunch break . . .

  “Later, man,” Ben calls out, his voice louder as if he’s closer to the door. Closer to me. “We’ll drop by tomorrow.”

  “Or you can save us the hassle and quit fakin’. This visiting you shit is getting old,” Luke throws out, his voice equally as loud as Ben’s.

  My head whips left and then right. I realize my best move here is to flee the scene so I don’t risk jail time, but I unfortunately realize this a second too late.

  Ben backs out of the room, turns his head and looks down at me. His eyes are assessing. He’s dressed in his uniform.

  So is Luke, who does the same, stepping out and following Ben’s gaze.

  Busted.

  Body still plastered to the wall, I blink up at them. My panic filled eyes jump between their faces.

  I watch Ben smile, that all knowing kind of smile that tells me he’s connected the dots. He knows I’ve had sex with CJ. Why else would I be here? That or his wife has been blabbing and finally shared the news of my wedding weekend walk of shame. Thanks a lot, Mia. I swallow thickly, then I look to Luke.

  Brow furrowed. Mouth tight. Eyes narrowing and dissecting.

  Luke has no idea I’ve had sex with CJ. He’s wondering what I’m doing here, since I obviously don’t belong. I’m reading that loud and clear.

  I push off from the wall and turn to face them both. “Hi,” I greet them softly, looking to the doorway and then back into their faces. I clear my throat. “I was just, uh, getting my steps in before my rotation starts.” I hold my wrist up and show them my FitBit. “And I heard your voices. I had no idea this was CJ’s room. Some coincidence, huh?” Laughter catches in my throat.

  Ben’s eyebrows raise.

  “This is my favorite floor to walk on. It smells the best,” I quickly add, wincing when I hear how ridiculous that sounds.

  It smells the best?

  Shut up, Riley!

  Keeping his smile and pairing it with the laughter he’s holding in, Ben turns to Luke. “You ready?” he asks.

  Smirking now, most likely due to my terrible lying I’m certain neither one of them are buying, Luke’s eyes leave mine. He gives Ben a silent nod, then the two of them move past me and head down the hallway. I watch them disappear around the corner. They never look back.

  Maybe they’re going to pretend they didn’t see me here? That would be seriously cool.

  I should make a donation to the Ruxton Police Department. Of course, you need money to make a donation and I don’t exactly have any . . .

  “Are you coming in today, or what?” CJ calls out f
rom inside the room, spinning me back around and startling me.

  My eyes widen. I feel my cheeks warm.

  He knows I’ve been here.

  I slow my breaths as I step up to the doorway and fill it, peering inside CJ’s room for the first time. I look over at him.

  He’s sitting up in bed, hospital gown on, sheets bunched up around his waist and tucked under his injured leg for easy examination. White bandages wrap around his ankle and halfway up his calf. It looks swollen. Parts of the bandage are stained brown.

  My stomach clenches when I think about how much blood he lost. I know there were cuts on his back too. He was bleeding from those as well. He seemed to be bleeding from everywhere.

  God, how many stitches did he need?

  “Hey.”

  I lift my gaze after CJ speaks. He’s staring at me, bright blue eyes looking alert but with shadows under them. Dark smudges revealing his exhaustion. Behind an overgrown beard that’s a shade darker than his golden auburn hair, the corner of his mouth is lifted.

  “Come here,” he says. His voice is rough. He sounds tired.

  I wonder how much pain he’s in. Maybe he isn’t sleeping well.

  “Are you comfortable right now? Are they giving you anything?” I ask, hooking my thumb behind me as I keep my spot in the doorway. “You can ask them for something stronger. If what they have you on isn’t working, they need to give you something else. I can ask them.” I drop my hand and begin to pivot around. “Let me ask them . . .”

  “Riley.”

  CJ’s voice halts me. I stop mid-turn and look back at him, meeting his eyes.

  “Come here,” he repeats, a little firmer this time. His mouth is tight now.

  I exhale a breath, then I step into the room and move around the bed so I’m on his non-injured side. I take a seat in the chair pulled up to the bedside and knot my fingers together in my lap.

  The monitor CJ is hooked up to beeps when he shifts back and sits up taller. I follow the tubing coming from his IV bag to the needle going into his arm.

  “Are you in pain? Does your leg hurt?” I ask, lifting my gaze to his face.

  “I’m all right,” he says through an easy smile. It does nothing for my nerves or the guilt I feel eating away at me. That’s deep in my bones. I fear it will never go away.

  “And your back? Is your back okay? Did you need stitches there?”