Southern Heat

by Natasha Madison

  "It’s a good thing,” I say. “Because if he wasn’t, I don’t know what I would do."

  Chelsea looks over at me, and her eyebrows pinch together. I know she wants to ask me questions, but she doesn’t. I also know she is saving it for another day when she can sit down with me and see if I’m lying to her. It was something we did when we were kids, and as we grew, we were able to see when someone was lying to us. "I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, and Mayson holds her hand as they walk back to her room.

  I walk back into the room, stopping at the foot of her bed to look at her. The monitor shows her heart is beating steadily. She lies there so peaceful with her chest moving up and down rhythmically.

  Making my way over to the chair beside her bed, I reach out and grab her hand. It’s small and fragile and cold. I put my other hand on it to warm her up. One hand holds her while I use the other one to rub her finger. My index finger rubbing hers, I’m tempted to bring her hand to my lips and softly kiss it. “Willow,” I say her name softly. “What secrets are you keeping?” I ask.

  Chapter 8

  Willow

  My eyes flicker open, and I take a deep breath. The pain in my head is just a bit less than it was last night. I woke up three times during the night, and each time I woke up, he was by my side.

  His eyes on his computer, he would get up and make sure I was okay. I wanted to tell him to leave. I wanted to get the nurse to get him to leave, but the darkness came to take me away before I could do any of those things.

  I fight the sleep off and look at the chair, and for the first time, he isn’t there. My heart speeds up, and I can’t stop it. My breathing comes faster and faster as if I’m running a marathon. My mind runs in overdrive as I take in the empty room and suddenly feel all alone. I’ve been wishing for him to be gone, and when he is, I don’t feel as safe. I push the thought away. The only one you can count on, Willow, is yourself, I remind myself over and over again.

  Glancing around the room, I look for where I can escape, and then I see him. Standing in the hallway with a blonde who smiles up at him. She gets on her tippy toes and kisses his cheek and then turns to walk away from him. He stands there watching her walk away from him. I swallow down the sudden lump in my throat as I watch him walk back into the room.

  "Good morning,” he says, and I see the big brown bag in his hand.

  "What time is it?" I ask.

  "Just after nine,” he says, putting the bag down on the hospital tray. “How are you feeling?"

  "Groggy," I answer him honestly. “But I’m fine." He just looks at me with his hands on his hips, and I see he’s wearing a different shirt. Maybe he did leave when I was sleeping.

  "I’ll get Shirley,” he says between his teeth, almost hissing.

  "Good morning, Willow,” Shirley says, coming in, and I wait for Quinn to follow her, but he doesn’t. He just stands outside the room, looking in.

  "Good morning," I say, and she comes to me and takes my vitals.

  "How are you this morning?" she asks.

  "Fine,” I say, and she looks at me over her glasses.

  "Um, Shirley," I say her name softly as I look out to see Quinn still standing there watching. I move my head back to make sure he won’t see me. “Why is he here?"

  "He hasn’t left here since you got here,” she says. “He takes off for twenty minutes each night to take a shower."

  My mouth opens. “What day is it?"

  "Friday,” she says, and she looks at me. “Now answer me honestly, and I promise not to tell anyone." I swallow, not sure I can actually answer the truth to anyone. "How are you really feeling?"

  I look down. “I’m in a little bit of pain," I admit and don’t meet her eyes. Just in case she sees that a little bit means a lot.

  "Where does it hurt?" she asks, her voice so soft it’s like we’re whispering to each other. She puts her hand on my arm to make me feel safe.

  "My head throbs,” I say. “Side feels like someone is stabbing me, and then on the other side, it feels like I’m being kicked." Tears sting my eyes, and I lift my hand and hiss out at the pain shooting all the way up to my shoulder.

  "Did your arm hurt when you lifted it?" she asks, and I want to tell her yes, but I look down at my lap.

  "It’s not that bad." I ignore the thumping of my heart as I try to block out the pain.

  "I’ll be back,” she says, and I grab her arm, surprising her.

  "Don’t tell anyone," I beg, fearing she will tell someone how much pain I’m in. "I’m fine."

  "Willow,” she says, her voice very low. “No one is going to know what you told me,” she says. “But I think you need an X-ray just to make sure everything is okay."

  "But …" I look from her to Quinn, who sees my face and comes charging in.

  "What’s the matter?" he asks, his tone going from low to loud.

  "Nothing is the matter,” Shirley says before I do. “She’s fine. But the doctor ordered some tests, so I was telling her about them."

  "What kind of tests?" he asks, his face full of worry. “He hasn’t been here this morning.”

  My mouth is suddenly dry as I hear the galloping of my heart in my ears. “It is a routine test,” Shirley says. “Stop asking me questions; I’m taking care of her,” she huffs and walks past him. “Don’t make me hurt you,” she says to him, and he rolls his eyes as she walks out.

  "Why do I feel like she’s lying to me?" He looks at me, his eyes never wavering from mine.

  "I don’t know anything about you," I say. “So I have no idea why you would think that. But if I did, I would just say that you’re paranoid and have too much time on your hands." I shrug my shoulders, and I almost cry out in pain.

  My lower lip trembles, and he sees the pain this time. I expect him to say something to me, but he doesn’t have the chance because Shirley comes back in. “Okay, let’s get you going,” she says, coming to me and unclipping things and then unlocking the wheels. “Let’s take you for a ride," she says with a smile. “We’ll be back in about thirty minutes."

  He just nods at her as she wheels me out of the room. “Thank you,” I say softly when we are far enough from the room for him to hear.

  "You don’t have to thank me for doing my job,” she says and pushes me through the blue doors. The lights shine in from the windows as we roll down the beige hallway.

  My eyes go crazy as I look around at the people coming and going. My palms get sweaty from my nerves, and I fear that he could pop up at any time. "He’s dead." I hear Quinn’s voice in my head, but nothing can stop the fear in my body that he will show up.

  My whole body starts to shake, and I look up at Shirley. “I’m going to be sick,” I say, and she springs into action, grabbing a steel basin from under my bed and putting it in front of me as I vomit.

  The pain rips through me as I shake so much my teeth are clattering. A warm hand rubs my back, and when I look up, I’m expecting it to be Shirley, but it’s not. His blue eyes look straight into mine. I’m about to tell him I’m fine when Shirley comes back with a wet hand towel and puts it behind my neck.

  I close my eyes, trying to catch my breath. “Take a sip of this,” Quinn says, and I open my eyes to see him holding a cup of water in his hand. "It should make you feel better."

  "Thank you," I mumble as Shirley takes the bowl away from me.

  I take a deep breath. “I’m good. It was just,” I say and then I stop talking. "Must be the motion of moving the bed."

  “Must be,” Quinn says, and just from his tone, I know he doesn’t believe me. He looks at me, brushing the hair away from my forehead. “Drink a couple more sips of water,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. The thumping in my chest is starting to calm down.

  Shirley clears her throat, making Quinn look over at her as he steps away from me. "We’ll get you all cleaned up in a second,” Shirley says as she pushes me down the hallway. I close my eyes and just feel myself being wheeled down the hallway.

  I open my
eyes when the light becomes a little bit darker and see I’m in the X-ray room. "Okay,” Shirley says, locking the wheels on the bed. “Let’s get these covers off you."

  I look at her and then look at Quinn, who stands there and watches everything. "I’m okay,” I say softly, and his eyes go just a touch lighter.

  "Here we are,” Shirley says as she slowly takes the cover off my legs, making sure that my hospital gown is in place.

  I look down, seeing it pulled up more on one side. The sounds of hisses fills the room, and I look up at Quinn, who turns around. “I’ll be outside,” he says, pushing through the doors.

  I look back down at the side of my leg, seeing my whole upper thigh a deep purple, the insides of the bruise turning blue. My hand flies out as I pull the gown down and look up at Shirley, whose eyes are filled with tears as she blinks them away and pretends that everything is okay. "In a couple of days, the color will fade," I mumble to her.

  "Let’s get you covered,” she says, and then I have clean sheets on me in record time. "We are going to lower the bed," she tells me everything as she’s doing it, making me relax just a touch more.

  I close my eyes as the machine comes down, and she walks out of the room to take the X-ray. "All done."

  "What next?" I ask as she unlocks the wheels and pushes me toward the doors.

  "The doctor is going to get the images and then let us know,” Shirley says, quietly pushing through the doors, and I see Quinn standing there with his back to the wall.

  I avoid looking in his eyes. Instead, I close my eyes as she wheels me toward my room. "Can she eat?" Quinn asks Shirley, and I open my eyes.

  "It depends on what is in that bag today,” she says, shaking her head.

  I watch Quinn look at her and smile shyly, and I look back at the brown bag. “She sent something for you, too,” he says, and I look over at Shirley, who raises her eyebrows.

  "What are you talking about?" I ask them, looking back and forth.

  "My grandmother," Quinn says, going over to the brown bag and bringing it to me. “She likes to cook and bake." He looks at me, and his blue eyes shine when he talks about her. “She especially cooks and bakes when she is nervous. She’s been on edge since everything went down." He puts the bag down, and I swear the bed dips. “So she sent a couple of things for you."

  "For me?" I ask him, putting my hand to my chest. There has been no one in my whole life that has ever done anything for me.

  "Well, yeah," he answers like it’s a normal fucking thing. "Obviously."

  The tears sting my eyes, and I have to swallow down the lump forming in my throat. This whole thing is just too much for me. “Did she pack some apple pie?” Shirley asks. He reaches into the bag and takes out container after container.

  I look down at my legs, seeing all of the containers spread out on my bed. So many containers, he has to leave some in the bag. “Is that blueberry?" I ask when my eyes spot the purple in one of the containers.

  "Yes." He nods, grabbing it. “It’s my favorite,” he says and looks at Shirley. "Can she?"

  "Maybe just a touch,” Shirley says. “You need to start with liquids first." She is about to say something else when the doctor comes into the room.

  “Pie?” he asks, looking at the containers. “Pecan."

  "She packed it especially for you,” Quinn says, handing him the container. “For taking care of Willow."

  My head spins as I take in the words. Why would she do that? My heart starts to speed up. “What is the verdict?" Shirley looks at the doctor.

  "Looks like you were right," he says, looking at Shirley. “Her clavicle is broken."

  "Her clavicle,” Quinn says, shocked. “She’s had a broken clavicle for the past four days, and no one knew?" His voice rises a bit, and then he looks at me. "Fine, my ass,” he says and walks out of the room.

  "What just happened?" I look at Shirley.

  "That is him trying to show you that he’s not a horse’s ass,” Shirley says, and I look out the window and watch him look up at the ceiling with his hands on his hips. “You should have seen him three days ago."

  Chapter 9

  Quinn

  I walk out of the room with my heart in my throat. My hands shake, and the anger and rage roar through me. If I would have stayed in the room, I don’t know what I would have done or said. Neither of which would have boded well for anyone. I run my hands through my hair and then hold them behind my head.

  Walking down the hall before and seeing her shaking like a leaf while she threw up was as if someone was pushing me to the edge of a cliff.

  I tried to reel it in as I rubbed her back. I couldn’t tell her that she was going to be okay; I didn’t trust any words to come out of my mouth, so I kept silent beside her as Shirley made sure she was okay. It was going as well as it could have gone, but then I saw that her whole fucking leg was bruised. Not just one spot, either. Her whole fucking upper leg was bruised a dark purple. It screamed at me that this wasn’t just one punch that created that. I closed my eyes, trying not to see it, but it was the only thing I saw in my mind.

  I had to walk out of the room because I thought I was going to be sick in the middle of the hallway. Knowing someone put their hands on her, I felt this rage soar through me, and I had no idea what the fuck was going on inside me. All I wanted to do was push the hair back from her face, just stare into her eyes, and hold her face in my palms. I wanted to take her in my arms and promise her that she would never be hurt again. I wanted to tell her that I would die before I let someone else put their hands on her. Then hearing that she had a broken clavicle and just fought through the pain? Well, that was the push I needed to go over the edge.

  I put my hands on the nurses’ desk and look up at the ceiling, trying to calm myself. I make the mistake of looking over my shoulder at her as she looks down at her lap, probably unsure as to what the fuck happened.

  "Well, that was smooth," Shirley says. Coming out, she shakes her head and gives me the biggest glare ever. "Idiot." I can’t even say anything to that because she is right. I have no idea what’s come over me, but I’m in uncharted territory, so I have no idea how to act. "I’m going to get her a sling for her arm." She turns and walks down the hall while the doctor comes out with his pecan pie in his hand.

  "She’ll be fine,” he says. “It’s a common injury."

  "Really? How many adults do you know that come in with a broken clavicle?" I ask, my eyes staring straight at him.

  "A lot more than you think,” he says, and I tilt my head to the side, not believing him for even a second. "It could happen riding a bike or playing sports." He tries to sugarcoat things. "Car accidents."

  "Or from being almost beaten to death," I add, and he doesn’t correct me. "How long will it take to heal?"

  "Usually, it takes six to eight weeks to heal in adults. With her arm in a sling, she won’t be in much pain,” he says. “I’ll check in with her later." He turns to walk away, and I start to take a step into the room when I see Shirley coming back.

  "How about you calm down a touch and then come in?" she says. “This might hurt, and she might not show it in front of you."

  I nod at her as she walks in, and I hear her talking, the phone in my back pocket buzzing. Looking at it, I see it’s my uncle Jacob. “Hello,” I say, my eyes never leaving from looking into the window at Shirley explaining to Willow what she is going to be doing.

  "Quinn,” he says. “I’m with the guys. You are on speakerphone."

  "Okay,” I say, confused. I step down the hall, looking into the room where Chelsea was and see it’s empty. The hospital bed sits ready for the next patient. I turn back as I slowly walk back to Willow’s room.

  "I hate to do this to you," he says, and I’m already annoyed. I don’t even ask him what guys he has there. Is he with my father, or is he with his men at the station? Either way, I couldn't care less.

  "I’m going to be honest," I start to say. “It’s not a good time,” I say instea
d of saying what I want to say, which is I don’t want to hear it.

  "Well, sorry, but we are running out of time at this point,” he says, and I stand straight. "We need to come in and interview her.”

  "No," I say right away. “Fuck no." My voice goes low as I hiss it out.

  "We’ve given her more time than anyone else,” he says, and I close my eyes. "We haven’t even placed an officer outside of her room."

  I ignore that last point. “She literally woke up yesterday,” I say. “Less than twenty-four hours ago. She was in a coma for four days. When would you have asked her questions exactly?"

  "And we should have had someone there get a statement." His voice comes in. “But we gave her some time because of you." His voice trails off, and I know that he’s bent many rules because of me being by Willow’s side.

  "Well, you aren’t coming today,” I say, my voice a touch louder. “She just got results back, and her clavicle is broken." My voice trails off with that statement.

  "What?" he whispers.

  "Yeah," I say. “She was fighting through the pain and not saying anything, but I guess the nurse saw it, and she just got the results."

  "Okay, fine," he huffs. “We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. That is the longest I can stretch it. There are lots of loose ends to this investigation, and we hope she can help us."

  "Yeah," I say, looking into the room at her, knowing that she holds many answers. "Okay, I’ll text you tomorrow morning to set up a time.” I finally give in.

  “Hang in there,” Jacob says. “It’s almost over.”

  I disconnect the call. “Or it’s just beginning,” I mumble to myself. Putting the phone back in my back pocket, I rub my face with my hands as I watch Shirley talk to Willow.

  I watch as Shirley explains something to her. Willow looks at Shirley and smiles softly at her, and she is breathtakingly beautiful. Shirley bends Willow’s arm, putting it in the bottom part of the sling. Willow winces just a bit when she sits up in the bed so Shirley can slip it around the bottom of her chest. Willow slowly puts her back against the bed and listens to whatever Shirley tells her. She leans her head back against the pillow. Her eyes close just for a second, and then she fights to open them again.