“May I help you?” the voice in the bed rail asks.
“He’s coming to. He squeezed my hand,” Amy says back to the nurse, her voice shaking in excitement or fear, I am not sure which.
I feel the jab of the IV in my arm, the pressure of the feeding tube in my side, and the weight of the compression stockings for circulation on my legs and feet. They are all things I haven’t noticed before. I want to move, to stretch, to pull, to itch, to open my eyes, and yes, to live. I can hear the nurse coming in, and everything around me is more vivid than ever before.
“As we’ve explained before, the squeeze most likely is an involuntary reaction to your stimulation. If you press the right pressure point, even accidently, the nerves in his hand will react.”
Straining to talk, I only manage a strangled sound as I try to alert the nurse that I am indeed waking up. Concentrating, I try to move my leg. However, I can’t tell if I am successful as everything feels so foreign right now. This is worse than an out of body experience, this is lack of complete control. I am here, but I’m not really a part of myself.
The nurse moves quickly to my side, paging a doctor quickly. She pulls open my eyelids one at a time, shining a light directly into them. Yes, I am awake. Please let her see that. Why can’t I talk? I feel like I have a brain to body disconnection.
“I’m going to have to ask you all to step out so the doctor can come in and examine Mr. Oleander. As soon as we’re done running some scans, you can come back in,” I hear the nurse announce.
I feel Amy come down and kiss my forehead. “Come on, Tank. You’re almost back to us… back to her. Keep fighting. Keep fighting.” I feel warm liquid on my forehead from what I assume to be her tears.
With one last squeeze of my hand, she pulls away.
For the next few hours, the doctors and nurses prod, scan, poke and talk about me as I continue my attempt to move. They scrape the bottoms of my feet with something cold and metal, causing a shiver to run up my legs. Well, I can feel everything, that has to be a good sign.
It takes focus and the calming of my nerves, but I slowly blink. The light burns, causing my eyes to water.
I am here! I can see!
Hold tight, Sass. I’m pulling through, Button.
Chapter
10
Limitations
~Sass~
It has been a week since the wedding. My first week without a job since college. The house is spotless, our closets organized. Hell, my spice rack is in alphabetical order. All this free time on my hands is driving me nuts. I have even learned to bake. Call me, Betty fuckin’ Crocker.
Nick is over the moon to have me home, waiting for him all the time. Tonight, he is taking me to a special dinner.
Following the instructions left on the island in our kitchen for me, I have been massaged, waxed, hair done, makeup done, and I now step into the sage green, flowing halter dress he has bought me. Nick, is always on top of every little detail. My jewelry has been laid out on the vanity for me as well as the perfume he prefers me to wear. There is nothing left for me to consider, my evening mapped out for me to enjoy.
Pulling up in front of our house is a Porsche Cayenne. I am surprised to see Nick stepping out of it. He makes his way inside our house, and when his eyes meet mine, I see the approval in his gaze.
Smiling sweetly, I take in the pretty-boy in front of me. He is in his black dress pants, a sage green button shirt that matches my dress, a black tie and his black sport coat. His hair is done up in a spiked style that clearly shows the hair product it takes to hold it in place purposefully. He is handsome.
“Ready to go, Savannah?”
“Let me grab my purse,” I reply, eager to spend the evening out together.
When he opens the door to the Porsche, I can’t help questioning the car as I get in. “Where did this come from?”
“It’s for you.”
“What do I need a new car for?”
“I told you, if you quit your job, I would provide for you. This is the beginning.”
Before I can respond, he shuts the door behind me and makes his way to the driver’s side. Once he’s buckled, he picks up my hand and kisses it gently before lacing our fingers together and resting them on his thigh.
Watching as we drive, I wait for us to get on the main road to all the restaurants. Only we never do. We stay in the housing areas. Nervous energy builds in me as we pull up to a newly developed, gated community. Nick pulls out the gate key card then, pulling through the entrance, he waves to the guard in the gatehouse. We wind our way through the neighborhood of overly elaborate houses.
Usually, Nick tells me if we are attending a dinner for his business. This isn’t the case today, but given we are obviously going to someone’s house, we must be attending an event of some sort this evening. I am on edge since I’m not prepared to be at one of his company functions. I am a biker’s daughter; I am far from polished or refined like the circles of people Nick associates with.
We pull into the horseshoe shaped drive of a three story beach house on stilts. Its sage green paint with ivory shutters and a matching ivory tin roof towers over us. It has a grand staircase with dual sides coming off French glass doors on the first level.
Nick pulls the Cayenne into the parking area directly under the house. In the spot in front of us, I see Nick’s car sitting there. Knowing it is my place to wait, I sit in the car as Nick exits and makes his way to open my door.
Seeing the expression on my face, Nick smiles sweetly. “No questions; just follow me.”
When we make our way to the small door in the middle of the under belly of the house, Nick pulls out a key, unlocking the door to expose an elevator. Following him in, I watch as he presses the button to take us to the first floor. The elevator doors open to a pristine home.
With gentle pressure on the small of my back from Nick, I exit the elevator and step into what could only be described as the entertainment floor. The entire level is an open space. A sectional sofa with a huge TV mounted to the wall opens in one corner. Off to the left of that is a full-sized pool table, and just beyond that is an air hockey table as well as a foosball table.
Behind the elevator area is a full library with six bookshelves covering two walls, two chaise lounges in the middle of the space waiting to be snuggled into with one of the many books stocking the shelves.
Off from the couch area and behind the elevators lies a fully stocked bar area with five bar stools off a crisp gray granite counter making out the bar. There is a door off the bar that Nick informs me is a bathroom for this floor. The walls throughout are painted in a light blue with all the furniture done in light shades of gray.
“This place is huge, Nick. Why are we here?” I question as my boyfriend watches me, studying my every reaction as I continue in my attempt to really take in the space around me.
“We’re here for dinner,” he replies calmly, as if it is every day we eat in such an extravagant place.
Guiding me back inside the elevator, we make our way to the second floor. Once again, the elevator opens to a living room or family room of sorts. This time, rather than a sectional, there are two oversized white couches facing each other with a loveseat between them, shaping the room into a U. Another giant ass TV is mounted to the wall, this one over an electric fireplace insert with a stone facing and mantle.
Behind me, I see a kitchen that is a dream, with crisp, white cabinets that even hide the refrigerator in such a way so it looks like regular cabinets. There is an island and six burner stove. Dual stainless steel ovens break up the white. Once again, the countertops are done in granite, only this time in a shade of beige. The space is all painted in a light taupe with sea foam green and white accents throughout.
“This is the master quarters. You’ll find a fully stocked kitchen over to our left. The living area is equipped with satellite TV already and it has full surround sound.”
Nick’s hand comes to the small of my back as he guides m
e around and away from the elevator. We come to a door that he opens to the master suite. Stepping in, I find the walls are done in a soft ivory. The oak of the four post king-size bed is a soft accent to the sage green bedding adorning the area. There is a reading area off in the corner with another two book shelves and a chaise lounge in a cream color.
Taking me by the hand, Nick shows me two closets that are bigger individually than my parents’ bathroom in their current home. After that, he takes me into the biggest bathroom I have ever seen. My thoughts swirl as I take in a Jacuzzi tub large enough for four grown adults. A shower that requires multiple showerheads and a separate vanity area complete the space.
Silently, I continue to follow Nick as he rambles off ridiculous descriptions. None of this makes sense why I would care about someone else’s house. Hell, I still don’t understand why I am even here.
After we make our way out of the one bedroom that is on this floor, Nick informs me there are four more bedrooms and two more bathrooms upstairs we can check out later, but our dinner is waiting in the dining room.
He leads the way to a dining area that is once again a taupe color. What has my attention is the glass dining table with all white chairs that seat eight people. There are two place settings made currently. One is at the head of the table, the other to the right of it. Two candles flicker in the area that is purposefully dimly lit by the switch on the wall, controlling the recessed lighting of the space. Nick pulls out the chair to the side of the table, extending his hand to show me to sit.
He steps out of the room, coming back in with two steaming plates of halibut, asparagus, and au gratin potatoes. He then pours us both some wine as he sits down.
“A toast, Savannah,” he says, raising his glass. I nod and raise my own, still confused. “To new beginnings. Out with old the old, Savannah.” He clinks his glass to mine and sips his wine. Lost in formalities, I sip mine as well.
“What is going on Nick?”
“I told you, I wanted to lay my world at your feet. This is my world, Savannah. You’ve left your past. This is your future, our future. The Cayenne is your new car, and this is your new house. Today is just the beginning of your new wardrobe.”
Did he say what I think he said? Did he really have me dress tonight to match a damn house? What the hell have I gotten myself into?
This is my new house?
~Tank~
My head is pounding as I force my eyes to open. Blink, blink, blink. The light filters through, burning, but I keep pushing to snap out of it. Just the exertion to open my eyes is making me tired, but I refuse to sleep any longer.
My mouth is dry and my tongue feels like sandpaper. I try to raise my hand, only I can’t. Trapped, helpless and unmoving, I manage a mangled grunt, catching the attention of the nurse scooting around my room.
She rushes over and pulls out a small tube of petroleum jelly before rubbing it over my lips. My thirst goes unquenched, but my lips don’t feel as dry. I fight to speak, but only more garbled grunts seem to escape.
“Shh. Now, Mr. Oleander, shhh. We need to let you slowly become more alert and then assess where you’re at physically, okay? You’re in the hospital, in case you’re confused. It’s gonna be okay. It’s good to have you come back to us. It’s been a long time,” the sweet nurse comforts. She is cute enough with her brown hair in a short bob-style and blue hospital scrubs.
Unable to reply, I only nod my pounding head in agreement.
As the doctor comes in and begins bending my legs and checking my range of motion, everything feels stiff and awkward. I open my mouth to speak, yet I can’t seem to make any intelligible sound. Frustration builds inside me.
“Mr. Oleander, this is all perfectly normal. You need to relax.” I watch as he eyes the obnoxious beeping machine beside me. What I wouldn’t give to have that thing unhooked. Each beep of my heartbeat adds to the throbbing in my head.
As I twist and turn, trying to have some semblance of control over my body, I become more agitated. Reaching, I try to grab at my IV and pull it out. The needle puts an uncomfortable pressure on my hand. Unable to do more than move my arm slightly, I quickly have to give up this conquest. The compression socks they have covering my feet and calves are tight and confining. I feel claustrophobic in my own body.
“You have a feeding tube, but we will start bringing you liquid meals. We will work you up to solids slowly, once we can establish you aren’t a risk for aspiration. We can remove the feeding tube now that you’re conscious.
“Due to the long term lack of use of your muscles, we’re going to need to send you to a rehabilitation facility to give you extensive physical therapy. You’ve been asleep for quite some time, and although the staff here has moved you and stretched you, your body has lost its muscle mass. It’s all perfectly normal for your condition, though, so try to relax.
“For your possible cognitive issues, we will call in a speech pathologist and put in orders for occupational therapy as well.”
When I open my mouth to try to speak again, it all comes out in a strained groan rather than audible words. Damn it, I don’t want to go to therapy! I want to get the fuck out of here and find Sass. She needs me. I feel it. I have to be whole for her, but right now, I am a broken, damaged, disabled mass of nothing. I’m no good to her. I have to keep fighting. Fighting for her, that is.
This is just another bad hand of cards dealt to me in the game of life. I will not be bound by my current limitations. It’s going to take time and work, but I will pull through this. I’m coming back stronger than ever before, too.
Don’t give up, Sass. Please let me have a chance to get you back.
Chapter
11
Struggles
~Sass~
Nick is serious about all of this. He has movers already packing our personal belongings. The furniture he showed me already in the house apparently belongs to us. When he closed on the property, he went out and hired an interior designer to give it the crisp look he wanted. The house is one of beauty and is elaborately filled with plenty of luxuries. It doesn’t, however, give off the feeling of home. The warmth, the comfort, that’s all missing.
We have spent every night here since our dinner. He is only having his clothing moved to the new house and a few of our personal effects. Most of my things he’s putting in storage or donating to charity.
Nick feels I need to step up my wardrobe to better suit the lifestyle he lives. No more jeans, he says. I struggle with all this change. He wants me to have the best of everything; from the car to the house, and now to the clothes. We are flying out for Miami tomorrow so he can set me up with one of the business partner’s wife’s personal shopper at Nordstrom’s. I am so out of my league here.
I unpack one of the few boxes I’ve been given of my personal books, photo albums and keepsakes. I watch the screen of my phone repeatedly light up with names. Doll. Amy. Daddy. Mom. Frisco. Roundman. Nurse Jamie. And the most recent call… Aunt Marsha. Tank’s aunt, to be exact.
Do I answer any of them? No, not one. Nick is my priority now. Whatever is going on with Tank and the Hellions is none of my concern anymore. I continue to work on my new home.
My chest tightens painfully as I try to hold the tears at bay. It’s for the best, I remind myself. Look at everything Nick is doing for me.
My breath hitches as I see the first text pop up on my phone’s screen from Doll.
Tank is awake.
That explains why everyone is calling me. What do I do with this information? Do I go see him?
I am supposed to be packing a small bag for Nick and me to go on our trip. The phone pings again, alerting me to another text, again from Doll.
I know u need space right now. I’m trying 2 give it 2 u. Pls, this is 4 Tank. I love u. I’m always here no matter the time.
I miss my friends. Since Doll has been home from her honeymoon, I have avoided her calls. I know she has been informed of my decision to leave my job, though. By now, I also k
now she is aware I’ve followed through with that decision. She is going to push for me to go back. Hell, if the shoe were on the other foot, I would push her to go back. I can’t imagine her letting go of the club, so I’m sure, although she is trying to support me, she doesn’t fully understand. In Doll’s mind, this translates into my seclusion rather than my freedom from the Hellions. I know she understands my need to separate for a time, but not to walk away completely.
Although, the more I sit here taking in all that is around me, I have to think: is she that far off base? Outside of Nick, who do I have surrounding me? No one.
I have gone from a life of constant interaction and multitasking to waiting on Nick to come home. My entire purpose in the day now revolves around him.
Walking into the bathroom, I look in the mirror. My hair is no longer black and red; it is now a shade of auburn. Nick wants me to have a more down home, natural look, so the last trip he sent me to the salon, he prearranged the change for me. The longer I gaze at the woman in my reflection, the less I see of myself.
*****
The flight to Miami is uneventful. We are settled into a suite at the Hilton now. For Nick, a regular hotel room with stiff sheets, two beds, a TV, and a bathroom the size of a small closet just won’t do. We’re always in king suites with a living area, kitchenette, full bedroom with a king size bed you can get lost in, and a bathroom as big as my childhood bedroom. Traveling with the Hellions, I never once thought of the places we stayed. By the end of the day, I was always so tired from whatever trip we were on, it was just a bed to rest my head on. With any of those trips, it was about taking in the scenery or the rally we were attending. Of course, the boys were doing business, but for me, it was about the ride. The feel of the bike under me, the pavement moving away below us, and the wind whipping around, engulfing you in its comfort and peace. The ride is the open road; to be free of expectations the regular world puts on you. Freedom… that’s the feeling of a ride, complete abandonment of responsibilities, of life’s woes, of everything around you… acceptance of what’s before you. Total sovereignty.
Forever Ride Page 10
