by Roxie Rivera
She hesitated at the foot of the bed. “You were lucky, Cassie. Extremely lucky. Being hit like that?” She shook her head. “You’ve got some rough weeks ahead of you, but you’ll recover well. You’ll probably have some lingering side effects, but all the signs so far point to a positive outcome.”
Realizing that was the best I was going to get, I nodded and thanked her. She finished her assessment, smiled at us and left with a promise to check in later. Once she was gone, I squinted at the sunlight streaming in through the windows. I didn’t even have to ask Hagen to shut the blinds. He moved immediately, making quick work of blocking out the morning sunlight and giving my sensitive eyes a break.
When he was back at my side, he dragged the chair closer and took my hand as he sat. As if he could read my mind, he said, “We dated years ago. Seven years,” he clarified. “She wanted to get married and have kids, and I wasn’t there yet. She’s married. Well,” he amended hastily, “divorced actually.”
“Okay,” I murmured, not at all in the mood to ask uncomfortable questions about it. He seemed to be telling the truth and that was enough for me right now.
“I talked to Ronnie’s girlfriend earlier,” he said, rubbing his thumb over my hand in slow, soothing strokes. “She said Kyle didn’t call her, but he may have tried to reach Ronnie. Your brother just started his fourteen-day shift on the rig, and the service out there is spotty at best. She promised to get a message to him as soon as possible.”
“He needs to stay and work. I don’t want him messing up his new life because of this. He’s safer out there in the middle of the Bering Sea.”
“I agree.” He adjusted the blanket around my waist. “Is there anything I can get you? They left some water here for you. Do you want to try to drink some?”
“Yes.”
Carefully, he held the large plastic tumbler of ice-cold water and guided the straw toward my mouth. I sipped cautiously and swallowed slowly, the fear of bringing it right back up keeping me from gulping down the whole cup to quench my thirst.
“Okay?” He wiped the drip of water from my chin with his thumb.
“Yeah.”
He tenderly caressed my cheek, and he seemed overcome with emotion. “Cassie, about Travis, I—”
A knock at the door to my ICU room interrupted us. We both glanced up as a team of doctors entered. Hagen held my hand as the doctors and interns introduced themselves and kept holding it as they discussed my case. A series of tests were ordered as well as evaluations by various therapists.
“We’ll compare your scans from last night to the ones we’ll get this morning,” the head neurologist explained. “Have you ever had an MRI before?”
“A year or so ago,” I answered tiredly. “My friend needed another brain for her study.”
“Her friend is a neuroscience grad student at Rice,” Hagen clarified. “Do you think those scans would be helpful? I’m sure Taylor can get them to you if we ask.”
“Actually, they might be,” the doctor agreed. “We’ll put a call in to Rice and see if we can get them.”
I zoned out as Hagen asked more questions, his concern clear as he worried about my vision and memory. Vaguely, I was aware of the doctor telling him the usual spiel about how no two cases are the same and no one really knows what to expect in brain injuries. I wanted to concentrate on the discussion happening, but my mind felt fuzzy and slow, like a bogged down browser that needed a restart.
When the medical team left to see their next patient, I turned toward Hagen’s tender and chaste kiss. He stroked my jaw. “Are you okay?”
“Tired,” I said with a little yawn. “And sort of confused. My thoughts feel mushy and disjointed.”
“Well,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement, “your vocabulary seems to be just fine.” He reached for the tumbler of water on the nearby rolling table and brought the straw to my lips. As I took a small sip, he asked, “How is your vision? Vicky said that you were complaining of double vision and problems on the left side last night.”
“Was I?” I couldn’t remember—and that scared me. I closed my right eye and realized she was correct. “My left eye is fuzzy.”
“Okay, well, we’ll get that sorted out,” he promised, his voice tinged with fake optimism. “You’ll look adorable in glasses,” he added with a loving smile.
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t want to be adorable.”
“Too late. You already are.” He kissed the tip of my nose as if to prove his point. When he sat back, his stomach growled loudly. He made an apologetic face. “Sorry. I missed dinner and breakfast.”
“You should go home and shower and have breakfast.” I gave Hagen’s hand an encouraging squeeze, and he winced a bit, drawing my gaze back down to his hand. The bruising that I had noticed last night was even worse today. “Did you get into a fight?”
“Yes.”
I wasn’t brave enough to ask if he had fought with Travis. I couldn’t even begin to handle the implications of that admission. Like a coward, I ran my fingers over his forearm. “I know you have work and you probably need some sleep. I’ll be fine here.”
He made a face and shook his head. “I wasn’t here last night. I don’t want to leave you alone again.”
“I won’t be alone. I’m surrounded by nurses and doctors. I’ll be having tests and evaluations anyway.”
He heaved a reluctant sigh and finally relented with a nod. “If anything changes, I’ll have them call me.”
“Okay.”
Hagen carefully leaned toward me and brushed his lips against mine. “I love you.”
I cupped his jaw and kissed him. “I love you, too.”
After he left, I closed my eyes to rest for a bit. My thoughts were muddled, and my headache was slowly returning. When Vicky returned a while later, she was followed by a pair of techs who took me to the imaging department for the ordered tests. The CT scan went quickly enough, but the thrumming thump of the MRI aggravated my headache. By the time I was returned to my hospital room, I was ready to beg for pain medication.
Thankfully, Vicky seemed to have known I would need something and was waiting with a syringe that went directly into my IV port as soon as I was settled. “You’re getting the good stuff today and part of tomorrow, but we’ll start to wean you down before you’re discharged.”
“How long?” I asked, already starting to feel the pain ebbing away as the medication worked its magic. “Before I get discharged?”
“A week, at least,” she said and disposed of the syringe in a container mounted on the wall. When she was done, she cleaned her hands and came back to my bedside to check all of the tubes and catheters snaking out of my body. “If you continue to improve, they’ll send you to a step-down unit and then out to the regular floor. You want to push yourself to reach the goals they set for you, but you also need to rest. Your body has been through a lot. It needs to recover.” She adjusted my blanket and patted my hand. “Why don’t you try to nap until lunch? If you need anything, the call button is right here.”
Even though it felt as if all I did was sleep, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I drifted off as the pain faded and woke up sometime later to the smell of beef broth. My vision seemed even blurrier as I glanced around the room, and a ball of worry thrummed low in my chest. What if I went blind? What if I could never see the stars again?
“Hey, you’re awake.” Kyle’s voice drew my gaze toward the right side of my bed. He sat in the chair Hagen had earlier vacated. Leaning forward, he put his hand on mine, his face a mask of concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I croaked, my throat dry. I tried to adjust the bed, and he hurried over to the controls, helping me settle into a more comfortable and upright position. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He gestured toward the rolling table. “They just brought your lunch. Do you want some help with it?”
“Please,” I said with a nod.
“Sure. Of course.” He pulled the table into pla
ce. “Do you want to start with the broth? Or maybe the Jell-O? Or this lemon ice thing?”
“The lemon ice,” I decided, my mouth watering as I imagined the taste of it. The reality beat my expectations. My right hand trembled a bit as I spooned the cold lemony ice into my mouth, but I managed not to make a mess. The realization that my body wasn’t behaving the way it normally did was hard to accept. Would it always be like this?
“Taylor wanted me to let you know that she’s coming by later. She’s already got her brother waiting to start your occupational therapy, and Danny gave her a list of speech therapists if you need one.” He gestured to the broth or the Jell-O and I pointed toward the Jell-O. As he peeled back the foil lid, he said, “I spoke to Dr. Symonds this morning. She’s handling everything school related. She doesn’t want you to worry about any of it.”
“Thank you, Kyle. I really appreciate that.”
“I brought your backpack and phone.” He pointed to the empty chair by the window where my backpack now sat. My phone was on the arm of the chair and plugged into the wall to charge. “Your phone was dead, but it’s probably got enough battery to make calls or texts.”
I grimaced. “There’s no way I can handle looking at a screen right now.”
“I can send messages if you need help.”
“Maybe later,” I said, planning to have Hagen help me with that.
Kyle hesitated before asking, “Have the police been here?”
“Apparently, they came earlier but were turned away.” Even with blurry vision, I could read the expression on his face. “Why?”
“They came to see me last night at my apartment. After I’d left here,” he clarified. “They told me Travis is in the hospital. This one,” he added with a stricken look. “He’s down the hall, actually. I don’t think he’s going to make it.”
“What happened?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Someone beat the living shit out of him,” Kyle said soberly. “Cracked his head like an egg. I heard the nurses out in the hall talking about the transplant team coming.”
“Oh my God.” My appetite fled as images of Travis, beaten to a pulp and clinging to life, filtered through my head.
“Cassie,” Kyle said forcefully, “they think it was Hagen.”
“So did Janine,” I admitted before I could stop myself. “That’s what she said when she was beating me up, but—”
“But what?”
“Hagen wouldn’t do that. He’s not that kind of man.”
“He’s exactly that sort of man,” Kyle insisted. “He was a loan shark. I’ve heard what he was like before he went legitimate. He was violent.”
“He may have been what you say, but he’s not that man anymore.”
“Why? Because of you?” Kyle shook his head. “No, he’s not going to let anyone disrespect you. There was no way Travis was walking away from what happened in the laundry room without at least being punched in the face.”
I wanted to argue with Kyle. I wanted to tell him he was wrong and Hagen wouldn’t do that, but deep down, I had my doubts. He had been ruthless in business and dealt in the seedy underbelly where fists solved most problems. He had never lied to me about any of that. He had always been honest and open about the life he had lived.
“Travis ran with a rough crowd,” I countered, unwilling to believe Hagen had done this. “It could have been anyone that hurt him.”
“You’re here in this hospital bed because the man who loves you fucked up,” Kyle said, his voice filled with anger. “You got hurt because of him.”
“Kyle, there’s no proof this was Hagen’s fault.”
“The police don’t need proof. They need motive—and your man has a ton of it.” He frowned down at me. “Don’t you understand? Hagen will go to prison. For murder!”
His raised voice made me wince, and I drew back into the bed, pushing against the lumpy pillow tucked behind me. Kyle breathed heavily as he scowled at me, seemingly overcome with frustration as I refused to think the worst of Hagen.
“Is everything okay?” Vicky asked from the doorway, her worried gaze darting from me to Kyle.
“Yes,” I said, not taking my eyes off Kyle. “My friend was just leaving.”
“I’m sorry,” Kyle said immediately. “I’m sorry, Cassie. I shouldn’t have upset you. I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“I know you are.” Not wanting to argue, I said, “But I’m tired. I’d like to nap.”
“Sure. Right,” he said quietly, awkwardly. “I’ll, uh, I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
Vicky kept an eye on him as he crossed the hospital room and left. Once he was gone, she walked over to my bedside and looked me over. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. He’s just trying to look out for me.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, unconvinced. “If Hagen knew he was in here shouting at you like that…”
I met her knowing gaze and felt the unwanted pang of jealousy. Had Hagen defended her once? Had he protected her? Saved her? Had he loved her? Had he done with her what he did with me? Used his hands and mouth to bring her to wild peaks of pleasure that left her panting and boneless and utterly and completely overwhelmed by love for him?
“The therapists are here to do their evaluations,” she said, breaking into my troubled thoughts. “Do you want me to ask them to come back later?”
“No.” I was desperate for a distraction. “I’m fine.”
I’m not fine. Not even a little bit.
Chapter Seven
Sore and uncomfortable, I adjusted the bed and tried to find a position that didn’t make my back hurt. Just when I thought I had finally found it, someone knocked on my door. I sighed and then inwardly groaned as two police officers walked into the room.
“Hi, Cassie,” the female officer greeted. “I’m Officer Delgado and this is Officer Greene. Is it okay if we come in and chat for a bit?”
“Um, sure, I guess,” I replied uncertainly.
“Great.” Officer Delgado smiled as she shut the door behind them. “How are you feeling?”
“Like someone drilled a hole in my head,” I said matter-of-factly.
Officer Greene chuckled. “I bet you do.”
“So,” Officer Delgado said as she pulled up a chair, “we were able to get your clothing from the ER last night. It will be processed for evidence. We also have some statements from neighbors who saw the assault. Do you think you could walk us through what happened?”
I took a deep breath and told them everything I could remember. From the questions Officer Greene asked, it was clear they knew all the details except for what Janine said to me. I hesitated before telling them, not wanting to implicate Hagen in the attack on Travis.
“Do you think that’s what happened?” Officer Delgado asked.
“That Hagen attacked Travis over a laundry basket? No. Of course not,” I insisted. “He’s not going to risk jail over ten dollars.”
“Maybe it wasn’t about the baskets,” Officer Greene suggested. “Maybe it was about sending a message that no one disrespects his girl.”
“No. Hagen wouldn’t do that. That’s not who he is.”
“You sure about that?” Officer Delgado asked.
“Yes.” Not in the mood for any more questions about Hagen, I said, “Can we wrap this up? My head is killing me, and I just want to sleep.”
“Sure. Sorry,” she apologized. “We need some photos of your injuries if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine.”
Officer Greene stepped out of the room to get Vicky. She helped the officers shift me onto my side to get photos of the bruises on my back and bottom as well as clear shots of the bandaged wound on my head. When they were finished, they placed a business card on the rolling cart and left.
“You okay?” Vicky asked as she rearranged my pillows and straightened out my various IV and drain lines.
“Yes.”
“I think you shoul
d ask for no visitors tonight and tomorrow. You need to rest. You’ve had people in and out all day. I think you would benefit from some uninterrupted quiet and sleep.” She tucked the blanket around my waist. “I can tell Hagen when he comes and have him let your friends know that you need to rest.”
“Okay,” I said, trying to stifle a yawn. “Can he stay the night?”
“That chair reclines.” She gestured to the chair closer to the wall. “It won’t be comfortable, and it’s too short for him, but he’ll survive.” She pulled the rolling tray closer to my bed so I could reach the water if I wanted it. “Do you need anything else?”
“No.”
“We are about to start shift change. Ameka, your night nurse, will come in and introduce herself and give your next dose of pain meds. She’s really great. You’ll be in good hands.”
Smiling at her, I watched her leave the room and then sagged into the pillows propping me up in the uncomfortable bed. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, and I dozed off again. It seemed as if my eyes had been closed only a minute when I was awoken by a slight tug on my IV. I gazed, bleary-eyed, at the new nurse at my left side.
“Sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she apologized quietly. “I’m Ameka. I’m your nurse tonight.” She tapped at the touchscreen monitor next to my bed, updating my record, and then scanned the barcode on the capped syringe in her hand. “These are your pain meds. How are you feeling now? On a scale of one-to-ten?”
“A six, I guess,” I answered uncertainly. My head was pounding, the thud deep and harsh as it caused my stomach to churn with nausea. “Can I have something to settle my stomach?”
“Of course,” Ameka replied quickly. “You have orders for anti-nausea meds. Would you like me to get rid of this dinner tray?”
“If I could just get something to drink, I’ll be fine,” I said, the idea of any kind of food making the nausea even worse. The scent of the broth that had tasted so good at lunch now made me want to gag. “Something cold,” I added. “Please.”
“Okay.” She placed the juice and Sprite that had come with my dinner tray on the rolling cart and covered up the other things I didn’t want. Tray in hand, she said, “Let me grab those meds, and I’ll be right back.”
