by Hazel Parker
The sensation of the steamy water calmed me and cleared my mind. Evan was at the forefront, but I wondered about Ethan as well. I didn’t expect him to walk out. If anything, I would have expected him to have been the one leading the show. I wondered why he left, what was going on in his mind, and if he was okay. If anyone could find him, it was Evan. They probably had some kind of Spidey-sense with each other.
I wanted to be with Evan, this much I was sure of. I wondered how that would affect my relationship with Ethan. Would he be mad? Hurt? I couldn’t imagine he would be. He didn’t strike me as the kind of man to catch feelings like that. He seemed so in control of everything. Maybe that’s why he left; because as much as he thought he was in control, Evan had ruled me. He’d rocked my world, and there was no one else I wanted to touch me.
I washed my hair, detangling it as the suds dissipated under my fingers. Washing my hair never felt this luxurious before. I knew it was just because I was in such a good mood. I combed through the silky strands and rinsed thoroughly. Drying and picking out my clothes were easy tasks, done without worrying as I always dressed in scrubs and always wore my hair pinned in a bun. I usually let it dry that way. After dressing, I treated myself to a Starbucks coffee and blueberry muffin before driving into work.
“Hey, boo!” Serena called, seeing me the moment I walked in. “Ooh. Somebody looks like they finally got some,” she chimed.
“What?” I asked trying to appear nonchalant.
“Oh, don’t try to play me, girl. I know that face. You’ve been all uptight and now you practically gliding.” I turned my head to the side trying to avert her gaze, but the sudden rosiness of my cheeks gave me away.
“Oh my god, oh my god. You did! Tell me. Who was it?”
“Nobody,” I said, waving my hands in the air trying to direct her attention somewhere else. “So who’s on rounds today?”
“Oh no, girl. You don’t get to get away that easy. Tell me, tell me.”
I don’t know her like that. I didn’t know too much about Serena. I knew she was a year younger than me, genuinely excited about helping people, and didn’t like nuts in anything she ate. Aside from that, I didn’t know anything about her – whether she had kids, what she did after work, or if she was even in a relationship.
“Look, you look like you could use a friend, right?” She didn’t pause long enough for me to answer, “And I know I could use one too.” She sat us down until we were side by side on a bench and leaned forward. “Who else are you gonna tell? We’re both new here, we’re the closest thing to friends either of us has got. So I’m thinking we should stick together.”
I looked into her eyes and I saw what I knew she saw in mine—loneliness. We both needed a friend.
“Okay.”
“Great!” she said sounded every bit like a cheerleader, even smiling like one. “Now spill.”
“Okay.” I sighed deeply, like I didn’t want to admit anything. “There is this guy.”
She squealed like we were in grade school. “I knew it! I knew it! Tell me more.”
“It’s complicated,” I said.
“No, ma’am. It’s never really that complicated. Simplify it for me. Don’t play me. You really like him, don’t you?” she prodded.
“Yeah. I do.”
“Then that’s all that matters, honey,” she said tapping my hand. “Now let’s get to work,” she said with a wide smile. “And then who knows, maybe later we can do something after our shifts end. That’s how friendship works right?”
“Right,” I said with a smile.
My patient for the day was an older woman who seemed to be on my round every shift. The woman in the bed was old beyond a natural lifespan—and paying the price. While her heart beat stubbornly in her pigeon chest, her skin was so fragile it ruptured from anything more than the softest of touches. Her open eyes were not focused but move randomly, white, obscured with cataracts so complete that I couldn’t even tell you her eye color. Her hair is wispy over a scalp that showed signs of pressure sores, pink from constant contact with a pillow or chair. I raised my voice and called her name. "Emma, Emma, can you her me? It’s Nurse Kaylen.”
After no reaction, I asked her to raise her arm: nothing. I applied mild pressure to her temple and her hand moved feebly as if to swat me away, but missing by many inches. She's still in there alright, just deaf and blind.
I giggled and let her go.
“Okay, Emma. I see you.”
I saw several patients throughout the day, but in the back of my mind I wondered about Evan and Ethan. Why hadn’t I heard from either of them?
I pushed out the door and paused walking down the hallway.
I know that head. Why is that head here?
“Evan?”
He turned quickly and by his face I could tell it was Ethan.
Ethan. What are you doing here? Did Evan find you? He was looking for you. We were worried about you.” My voice trailed off at the look on his face. His eyes were wide with terror.
“No. he didn’t find me. He’s here.”
“He is? How do you know?”
“They found him! Passed out, beaten half to death on the side of the road. ”
“Who found him?”
“The ambulance! They called me! He’s in a goddamn room somewhere and they won’t tell me where he is.”
“What?”
That doesn’t make sense. They tell family members where the patient is.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. Something bad. Help me, Kaylen. Where’s my brother?”
I slid behind the nurse’s desk and searched his name. “Evan Hunt.”
“He’s in the emergency wing. It says he’s in severe condition… He just got out of surgery. That’s why they couldn’t tell you where he was before.” I didn’t realize that the volume of my voice was rising. “What happened to him?” I asked, more to myself than to Ethan as I read through his chart.
Head laceration. Concussion. Bruised ribs. Broken nose. Severe bruising.
“Let’s go.”
Together, we ran down the stairs to his room. I pushed it open without pausing and gasped at the man on the bed before me.
The man lying in the hospital bed was nothing like the man that had left my bed this morning. I tried not to stare at his nose, but my eyes kept coming back to it. One moment they were obediently on his swollen eyes, and the next they were rested on the bloody mess that had been a perfectly ordinary nose only hours before; so ordinary in fact, that I could not recall what it had looked like. His left eye was too swollen. I knew he couldn't see anything out of it and probably wouldn't for a while, but his right eye wasn’t as bad. He could see through a slit of the swollen flesh. His eyelashes poked through like clumped spikes from the thin strip of skin that wasn’t discolored. His face was still covered in congealed blood in some places.
My bottom lip trembled and I struggled to hold myself back. His brother should be by his side. When he tried to say my name, his cracked lips failed at the first syllable. I hurried to sit by his bedside. I reached forward to hold his hands. “I’m here,” I said, my voice cracking. “I’m here,” I said pushing back his limp, dirty blond hair.
I forgot about Ethan, who was beside me. I forgot about what I read on his chart. All I could think about was him possibly leaving me, and that idea didn’t leave space to thing about anything else.
Were we ever strangers? I couldn’t remember. I'm not sure we ever really were. That day I first saw him there was something even then, though I didn't know what.
“Who did this to you, bro?” Ethan said, wringing his hands. “Who the hell did this to you?”
“Skulls,” he whispered.
“What?!” Ethan screamed. “Why the fuck were you in Skull territory?”
“You,” he groaned before losing consciousness again.
“Evan,” I whispered kissing his hand. “Oh, Evan. Please don’t leave me. You’ll be alright. Everything will
be alright.”
Ethan turned slowly, too slowly to be normal. When he spoke, his voice trailed, his words unwilling to take flight. “I’ll be right back.” His eyes held a sadness, the blue furiously glossy. “The brothers are on their way.”
Chapter Eight
Kaylen
I bit my tongue trying to hold the tears that threatened to leave my eyes. But that's when I couldn't hold them back. First, one small crystal bead escaped from my right eye. I could feel the warmth, sliding down my cheek, and rolling off my chin. Then another. And another. Until my eyes flooded with them, coming like rainfall. Sniffing every ten seconds, they fell and fell, and I let them.
The doctor entered and I jumped to my feet.
Doctor Harris. I’d seen him before, though we’d never actually worked together. I tended to stay on the long-term care patient wing or pediatrics.
“Doctor Harris.” It was then that I realized I was still at work. I was still supposed to be working.
Ethan walked in behind him, followed by several men I recognized from the club.
“Oh. Nurse. Good afternoon. Are you family?”
“Oh no sir. This is –”
“Her boyfriend,” Ethan cut in. “I’m the brother.”
Ethan’s proclamation knocked me off my feet and back into the chair beside Evan’s bed. I looked at him, the question plain on my face and he smiled—not the smug smirk he used to hide behind his feelings or pretend he had everything under control. A real smile.
His girlfriend.
Either way you look at it, it was only two words, and yet those two words held everything. Two words that were an apology, an acceptance, and forgiveness all in one. He understood and nothing needed to be explained further.
I clasped Evan’s hand in my own and looked confidently and expectantly at Doctor Harris.
“Oh. Okay.” He said looking between us. “I’m Doctor Harris, I’ll be supervising Mr. Hunt’s treatment.”
I know what he’s going to say. I’d already looked in the chart, but I wanted to hear from his mouth that everything would be fine.
“Mr. Hunt has several lacerations on his head, though none were deep enough to be fatal. He does have a concussion though, and will need several days of observation. Thankfully, none of the cartilage from his broken nose has moved or blocked any parts of his nasal passage. It was set and should heal in the normal 2 to 3 weeks. The swelling should start to go down within a week, and the bruising will take a while. He has three bruised ribs. We can prescribe pain medication, but the best thing to do is leave them alone and let them heal on their own. It will hurt to breathe for the next couple of weeks. As a matter of fact, it would be natural for him to feel like his entire body hurt. He has severe bruising on several critical areas of his body, but he will survive. Your brother’s a tough guy,” he said smiling at Ethan. “He walked away from a severe beating with only 10 stiches in his head.”
“Are you sure?” I asked as Doctor Harris turned to walk away.
It was dumb of me to ask. Of course he was sure. He’s a doctor. I should have known better than the rest of the people there that he was sure. Doctor Harris did this every day and yet, I still had to ask. I couldn’t lose him. Evan had to come back to me.
Thankfully, Doctor Harris understood. He smiled reassuringly. “Yes. I’m sure. He will be in and out of consciousness today. Call a nurse whenever he wakes.”
I nodded. I would.
“Oh and Nurse…”
“Shaw,” I said, filling in my last name.
“I’ll let someone know that they’ll need to cover your rounds.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
The big guy who seemed to be in charge of the group followed the doctor out and suddenly the room was empty of the big men with tattoos—leaving only Ethan and me.
“So, boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” he said, taking his familiar stance against the wall. The man loved leaning.
“Don’t think you should wait until he wakes up to ask him that?”
“Nah. I know my brother.”
“And when did you come to this conclusion?”
“The first time I saw you look at each other.”
“What?” I turned my body to look at him fully.
He continued talking as if he hadn’t said something significant. “If I had been paying attention I would have realized what it was, but I’m dumb.” Then he shrugged. “I never claimed to be the smart twin. There’s a reason why he’s the bookie and I’m just a lowly mechanic.”
“You’re not a lowly mechanic. If your bike is any indication of what you can build with your hands, then you’re amazing.”
“And I didn’t have to waste four years and money to get a fancy piece of paper for you to say that.”
I smirked. Of course Ethan was proud of the fact that he didn’t go to college.
“So, you’re done trying to win. You’re letting him have me?”
“I’m not done anything. It was never a competition. He had you from the very beginning. I just didn’t see it clearly until we were at your apartment, and of course I would never admit that because I’m stubborn,” he said, smiling devilishly. “It’s one of my best qualities.”
I smiled and shook my head.
“You think he’ll agree with you?”
He nodded. “He will. I’ve seen my brother with a lot of women, and he’s never looked at any of them the way he looks at you.”
My insides warmed and I blushed. It took this for me to admit it, but I was falling for Evan. I had been since the moment I saw him standing in the hospital corner, clueless and grieving. I hoped he felt the same.
“I have a feeling when he wakes up, he’ll tell you himself. My brother ain’t no coward,” he said looking at his brother’s condition in the bed. “And he deserves somebody who loves him.”
I kissed Evan’s hand softly and stood. Ethan watched me approach and didn’t recoil when I placed my hand softly on his cheek. “So do you, Ethan. You’re a good man and you deserve somebody too.”
He turned his face and kissed the palm of my hand.
I hope that’s true.” He walked to the door. “Take care of my brother. He’ll want you when he wakes up.” Then he left the room.
Ethan
Fragments of that day came back to me in pieces. Driving. Stopping at the first bar I see. Getting kicked out. Knocking over the bike. I tried hard to remember the bike. It was beautiful. Ghostly white. With something drawn on it. Casper, the ghost. That was what was drawn on his bike. Not Casper the friendly ghost, Casper but in a bad ass way.
I trashed Casper’s bike. Casper fucking Karin, the top dog of The Skulls.
Triple fucking shit.
As if they didn’t hate us enough already. Now they really were going to hate us.
How did they get Evan, though? I thought about what Kaylen said. They were worried about me. He must have been out there looking for me. My brother was there looking for me. That’s the only reason he was even there. My brother was in here because of me.
My hands pulled at my hair, the pain in my follicles rooting me to this moment, to the ground.
What can I do? What am I going to do?
Every possible option ran through my head. Revenge. That’s all I could think of what not right now. Right now, I had to make sure my brother was going to wake up tomorrow.
“What happened?” Gus roared, rounding the corner.
“He was jumped.”
“The hell? Ev? I would have guessed you, not him. What happened?”
The boys stared at me all looking for an answer. Jerry, Warren, Gus, and Luke were waiting here, more were waiting at the club. I couldn’t lie. I wouldn’t lie. A man takes responsibility for his mistakes.
“It was my fault.”
“What? I don’t understand.” Warren said taking a step back.
There was nothing I could say to explain it anyway.
“Some shit came up. I got drunk and trashed a bike
… Turned out to be Casper’s.”
“You couldn’t have gotten drunk at the club?” Jerry asked.
Gus cut in. “The Casper?” Gus’ face turned red. “Casper fucking Karin? That Casper?” I couldn’t help but feel like I was letting him down.
I wanted to hang my head in shame, but that’s not how I was raised. A man accepts his shame head on. “Yeah. That one. He must have thought Evan was me, and knowing them, they probably didn’t wait to ask any questions or make sure they had the right guy, not that they’d care. So they made him pay for my crime.”
“How bad is it trashed?”
“I don’t know. I was drunk off my ass, I barely remember doing it.” I couldn’t help feeling like I sounded like a child. “I knocked it completely over so I imagine it’s scratched, got broken mirrors and dents.”
That was putting it lightly. That bike was heavy. It hit the ground hard, and I knew it was more than broken glass and dents. The left side of that bike was probably shredded.
“Jesus!” Warren yelled, rubbing his temples.
Where I’m from, motorcycles were like jewelry. You chose them by hand, not from a sell lot. You did your research and decided what’s best for you. Unlike most clubs, Los Banditos was a club that accepted all bike types. We weren’t all Harleys or just crotch rockets. Yeah, the old guys gave us hell about our small bikes, complaining that all we wanted to do was look fancy, but in the end they respected our choice. Bikes were personal. We built them up, bought accessories, changed out the inside, chose specific paint jobs, loved them, and made them perfect. Bikes were more than machines. They were an extension of the self.
My bike represented me. It looked how I wanted it to looked, matched my jacket and my helmet. Fucking with anyone’s bike was the equivalent to fucking with their kid. It was worse than that. I might as well have cut off his arm or spit in his face. He had every right to be angry. Bikes are sacred.
“How bad is Evan?”
That was the most important part.
