“Let me know when you do,” she muttered as he left. “Asshole.”
Chapter Four
Trending on Twitter
#headfullofdoubt
George let the cool water from the shower wash all the sand and saltwater off his body. He didn’t know if they were doing the right thing moving in together, but he knew he wanted her near him and for her to be safe. Stella didn’t want to move back in with Patrick and Billy, so there really was no other choice. He couldn’t take her living by herself, so she was moving into his house. He scrubbed his face with some of her coconut shower gel and his thoughts went back to the hospital.
George’s “shift” at the hospital was Monday through Wednesday since Stella awoke; on those days, he was often there alone, giving her mother a break. Stella’s dad was working back in Atlanta during the week but staying at the hospital from Friday to Sunday. Stella was so restless and irritated; she just wanted to get out of the room and Montana. He warned her that things were going to be different. He planned to keep better tabs on her, and she’d have to be really careful about where she went. She’d brushed him off, not believing how different her life would be when she left the confines of the hospital.
Every time he saw her, he tried to bring her something to make her happy. George wanted to see Stella smile again, and not the fake one she used for everyone else. When he brought her a burger and fries from a Five Guys restaurant down the road, he thought she was going to explode with joy.
“Oh my shit, George, thank you.” She took an enormous bite of her burger and sighed blissfully. “I’ve wanted a burger and fries since I woke up.”
“So Millie told me that you now have a Twitter account,” he said casually, watching her eat the rest of burger. Watching her tear into her burger made him remember all the noises she used to make when she ate before the attack, relishing every bite. It also made him remember the other noises she made while doing other things. Am I really thinking about sex while watching her eat a burger? Yes, I am.
“Oh, yeah.” She leaned over and reached toward the side table for her phone. “Can you download Twitter on here and tell me how to use it?”
“Sure.” George fiddled with her phone while Stella finished her fries. Not only did he download and setup Twitter, he changed his ringtone to “I and Love and You.” “You know Millie is using this for PR purposes, right? So you should probably not cuss on it, okay?” He laughed, knowing he sounded like her mother.
Stella forced a fake laugh. “Whatever, dude. She said I should tweet about my progress and that’s what I’ll do.”
“Not that I doubt that you would follow directions, but that doesn’t mean you should tweet about how you hate the doctors poking you and how terrible the food is.”
She sighed. “I know what it means, George. I’m not an idiot.”
He ran his hand over her hair, smoothing it back. “I know you’re not an idiot, but you are on narcotics. I highly doubt you should have access to Twitter while you’re on narcotics. I’ve heard about your drunk posts on Facebook, after all. Although…it would be highly entertaining.”
“Okay, you may be right. Maybe we should designate less-drugged times to tweet; though that might mean I’m in pain, and we can’t have pain-influenced tweets,” she teased. “Now that I think about it, maybe you should put my phone on the other side of the room or in your pocket.” She smiled at his ass as he walked her phone over to the chest of drawers which the TV sat on.
He turned to face her and dropped the phone in the front of his jeans. “Let me know if you need to tweet.” He winked.
“Oh, I think I really need to tweet right now.” She swung her legs out and stood up slowly.
“Something really important, like your doctor has okayed sex.” George smirked and wiggled his crotch at her.
Stella laughed and then groaned as the pain spread through her chest, but she walked over to where George was standing. She eased her hand down his pants. “I think I found something way more interesting than my phone in here.”
“Excuse me,” Stella’s mother cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you were here, George.”
“Uh-uh, yes,” George stammered. “I just got here. Stella accidently dropped something down my pants.” He turned to hide his arousal and his laughter. Stella slowly pulled her hand out of his pants.
“Okay… sure.” Stella’s mother was clearly uncomfortable. “I’ll head to the hotel. See you both tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Stella turned her eyes back to George as her mother hustled out of the room. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh shit, that hurts.” She shoved her hand back into his pants, which made it really hard to think.
“So… how about that status update? Any sex yet?” George bent down to kiss her gently. What he wanted to do was push her up against the wall and ravage her.
“I’m afraid not, but I’m sure we can think of some other things we can do.” She raised her eyebrows at him suggestively.
After she’d made him seriously horny, George helped her back into the bed. He pulled the chair up to her side and they talked for an hour. The pain medication she was on made her incoherent at times and sleepy most of the remaining time. She fell asleep holding his hand. He sat holding her hand for a long time, just watching her and wondering if Stella would let him help her through this mess. George thought about the first time he met her at the dog park, her first day in DC. She’d been so full of life. He knew she was strong, but he wondered how this would impact her life. Would she move back in with Patrick? Did she want to move back to DC at all or was she going to move to Atlanta? Could he handle being with someone who had been through this sort of tragedy? He didn’t even know how to handle her. His head was full of doubt.
After a while, he moved to the couch and turned the TV on low to watch the news. It showed him entering the hospital earlier that day and then commented on their relationship. It was all speculation and made him cringe at the reporters covering the story. It was horrible and without any foundation. The broadcaster looked in the camera and told America it had been reported that Stella was now seeing one of the FBI agents that was investigating the case. Stella had broken up with George, but he refused to believe it. He shook his head; this news was obviously well researched.
He finally fell asleep, but jolted awake at the sound of something crashing. He sprang up and realized Stella’s bed was empty. “El!”
He ran to the bathroom and saw her crumpled on the floor, legs splayed, the back of her gown spread open, exposing her entire back and ass. Holy shit, she’s not moving!
“El!” With restraint he didn’t know he had, he gently pulled her into his arms. “Wake up, El!” He palmed her face and called her name, trying desperately to rouse her. He wondered if he should call the nurse.
She cracked her eyes and looked at him. “What happened?”
“You passed out, I guess. What were you doing?” He cradled her in his arms and carried her back to the hospital bed, careful to pull the IV pole back with her.
She shook her head a little and slumped into him. “I just had to pee,” she whispered, her voice soft and low.
“Love, I can help you.”
He saw a flash of something in her eyes he’d never seen before, something so feral it sort of scared him. It was quickly gone and he wondered if he’d imagined it.
“I just wanted to fucking pee by myself. I mean, this is fucking ridiculous. I can’t stand this.” A tear fell down her cheek.
He hated that she was hurting; hated that she felt so helpless, but had no idea what he was supposed to do. “El, I know this is hard. I can’t even imagine how you feel.” He put her in the bed and kissed away the tear that slid down her cheek to her chin.
“I don’t want you to have to help me,” she protested stubbornly.
“I understand, El, but you need me to. Just for now.” He stood for a minute next to the bed. “Can I get in?” he asked, pointing.
She scooted over
in answer and he fell asleep holding her hand.
Stella cranked the music up in the house and walked to the kitchen. “Hey, you want a sandwich?!” she called to George, who was sitting on the back porch watching the sunset.
“Sure!”
The fall day at the beach had been warm, but the night was crisp and cool. Pair the briskness with the sunburn on her skin and Stella was just plain cold. She shrugged on George’s pullover that had been draped over one of the bar stools. She inhaled and walked back into the kitchen, content. It smelled like him, rugged and male. Stella thought back to the hospital and how things would be different if George had run screaming from her, like he should have. She smiled; glad he was a masochist and sticking it out with her.
Her phone dinged, notifying her of a text. It was Millie.
you’re trending on twitter #WITWISM
Stella looked at her text, confused.
what does that even mean?
Millie’s response was quick.
where in the world is Stella Murphy
Stella bent over from the laughter that burst out of her. Her life was so ridiculous.
Stella stared out the window from her hospital bed, enjoying the quiet. It was rare that she was by herself with her thoughts. Since she woke up two weeks ago, there was always someone in her hospital room. She’d barely had one minute alone. As she watched the leaves sway in the breeze, she thought it was probably for the best. Her thoughts were not welcome.
Stella was finally starting to feel like herself again. While she remained in the hospital and continued to heal from all the physical damage he’d done to her, the emotional damage was only getting worse. It was immediate and all-consuming; from the moment she looked in his eyes, the moment she awoke in the hospital, she felt the difference, tasted the difference, smelled the difference. Hatred had invaded her entire being; every cell in her body was full of it. Every happy thought, every happy memory, every happy anything had been devoured by hatred and loathing.
She wondered if everyone could smell it on her. It smelled like death and coffee, like lilies and dirt, and it permeated her. He was out there somewhere, living, breathing and laughing. She was going to change that. She would put an end to his laughing…his breathing. From the first night she went home with Jamie until his “death,” she’d been completely, utterly, and stupidly in love with the guy who eventually tried to kill her. All she could think about was returning the favor. Every time she looked in the mirror or took a step, she thought of Jamie. Every time a doctor or nurse congratulated her on her progress, she counted it as one step closer to finding Jamie. She had several constant reminders of him, which made her even more pissed at him. Whether it was the tattoo on her back with a new bullet hole that was a big fat joke, the scars on her chests, or her life in shambles once again, she just couldn’t get rid of the ghost of Jamie.
She was getting really fucking tired of plastering on a fake smile for everyone else.
To say Stella was shocked when the bandages were finally removed from her chest would’ve been an understatement. Angry red scars mirroring a spider web covered her chest, the skin above her ribcage, and down her abdomen from the surgeries that were necessary to save her organs. Dr. Houston told her the redness would fade, eventually.
Tears rolled down her face as she stood in the hospital bathroom looking at her naked self. She turned this way and that, looking at herself from different angles and trying desperately to see her back. They didn’t show her the scars on her back. Stella had never thought of herself as a vain person, but she had no words to describe her feelings as she stared at her own image. Holy shit.
George knocked on the door and pushed it open when she didn’t respond.
“Love,” he said, looking into her eyes in the mirror. Closing the gap between them, he moved behind her and held her gently. “It’s okay. Alright?” He ran a hand over her hair.
Stella faced him and yelled. “You think this is alright?! This,” she motioned to her torso with both hands, “will NEVER be alright again.” Her cries were on the verge of sobs. “YOU WANT THIS?!” she yelled through her tears. “WHY?! I don’t!” Stella tried not to break down in front of anyone; she tried to be strong. She looked back at the mirror and met George’s eyes. “No one will want to look at me,” she said softly.
George took her hands in his and pulled her into him, burying his face in her neck. She sighed audibly and he released one of her hands to reach behind him and lock the door. Then he pulled off his own shirt so there was nothing separating their skin. Stella’s chest heaved with silent sobs, tears coursing down her cheeks and onto his chest. George leaned down and began kissing the scars on the right side of her chest.
“I could look at you all day, Love.” He continued until he kissed every one of her scars and she stopped crying. He moved behind her and kissed the healed bullet hole in her back as well. “This is a fucking expensive new tattoo, Love, but it’s pretty badass.” He wrapped his arms around her. “The bullet exited through the remains of the heart in your tattoo. You want to see?”
She nodded; she couldn’t speak. He turned her around so that she could look at the tattoo in the bathroom mirror.
After Jamie “passed away,” Stella had gotten a tattoo on her left upper back to symbolize her lack of a heart. The tattoo was a view inside her body, bones poking out all the way through to where her heart would be. Instead of seeing a heart, Richard, the tattoo artist, had drawn what looked like tattered remains of a heart. It was beautifully grotesque. Stella took in the puffy red skin in the middle of Richard’s masterpiece. It looked like Jamie had taken aim and shot her in what remained of her heart. He had perfect aim.
George kissed her forehead. “Totally badass. Richard’s going to shit a brick.”
Stella stifled a giggle. At least there’s a plus.
George trailed his fingers over every inch of her chest, kissing her neck and whispering his love. Stella shivered as he licked and sucked all the way down to her stomach.
As he headed even farther south, Stella thought about how long it’d been since she shaved. Since she’d showered. Jesus. “George,” she whispered. “I haven’t shaved in…”
“Shh, El. Let me love you.” He knelt, grabbing both of her thighs and pulling her to him.
Her head fell backwards and she groaned.
There was a knock on the door. “Stella? Are you okay? Did you fall? I thought I heard something!” her mother called from the other side of the door.
Stella stifled a laugh and then a moan as George continued to kiss her everywhere. “I’m okay, Mom.”
“Where’s George? I thought he was in here with you.”
“N-need a minute, Mom,” Stella stuttered.
“Are you okay?” Her mother’s voice went up an octave.
“Fine…oh, God,” she whispered. “Mom, can you get me some coffee?” Her voice broke. “I really need some…” she stifled a groan. “Some coffee. Please?”
Stella ran her hands through George’s hair, trying hard not to yell his or God’s name. After a while, her knees buckled and she sank down to where he was kneeling, smiling at her.
“Can we stay in here so I can look at you some more?” he asked wryly.
A week later, her mother was helping Stella back into the hospital bed when Dr. Houston came in. “Stella, how are we doing today?”
Stella rolled her eyes. She hated how doctors always asked how “we” were doing. She wanted to respond, “I’m not sure how we are doing, but I want to stab you in the eye.” She didn’t. Instead, Stella smiled her fake smile and eased herself into the bed. “Ready to get out of here, doc.”
“Well, we’re going to run you through a few tests and then you should be able to be released to a rehabilitation facility. Do you know where you want us to send your documents?”
“Emory,” her mother answered.
“George Washington,” Stella said at the same time.
Dr. Houston looked from daught
er to mother and then continued. “Well, it’s looking good for Friday, Stella. Wherever you go, you’ll want to make sure you have a good support system in place.” Dr. Houston looked down at the chart in her hands, flipping through a few pages. “Any more pain here?” Dr. Houston touched her chest. “When you move?”
“Yes, but I honestly just kind of have a dull ache all over.”
Dr. Houston nodded. “Let the nurse know your plans for transfer.” Dr. Houston turned and walked toward the door. “Stella, you’ve done great. You just need to be patient and give yourself time to heal. Okay?”
Stella nodded as Dr. Houston left the room. Oh yeah, time is really going to heal what’s wrong with me.
“Stella Eugenia Murphy, you are being transferred to Atlanta so that I can take care of you. Period.” Her mother was going through her purse looking for something.
Stella let out a huge breath. “Mother, I’m an adult and I will make my own decision.”
“Already made.” Her mother didn’t even look up from her bag.
“I’m not going to Atlanta. I can’t. My job, my life...everything is in DC.”
“I’m not discussing this any further with you, Stella. I can’t believe you actually think I will stand for you to be in DC with no one there to take care of you.”
“Mom, I can walk now. I’ll be doing physical therapy forever; I won’t be out gallivanting or anything. I don’t plan on being in the rehab facility very long. The investigators are in DC and I’ll be close to Cooper. George said he could bring him to the facility.”
“Oh, is that what this is about? Being close to George?” Stella’s mother asked, concern filling her voice. “Your father is going to be heartbroken. You know he’d be here every day, if he could.”
“Um, no. It’s not about being close to George.” Stella also knew her dad was having a very difficult time dealing with her being shot and what he thinks of her “being raped” by the media. He was also killing himself flying back and forth every week to sit with her in the hospital every weekend. She knew moving back to Atlanta with her parents couldn’t happen. Besides that, they’d drive her mad. She stubbornly believed that she was an adult and could deal with her recovery by herself. Ok, maybe it’s a little bit about George.
Tension Page 4
