by Lilly Wilde
I flipped off the tablet. I didn’t want to read anymore, but I was intent on focusing on the positive section of the article—that Aiden might be able to hear me. Regardless of what Dr. Burgess said, I was sure Aiden was coming back to me. I squeezed his hand. “I’ll never give up on you,” I whispered.
The incessant monitor beeps came to a halt and my eyes darted to the daunting piece of equipment as panic ripped through my chest. As I was about to cry for help, a green line appeared on the monitor and the beeping started again. I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack on top of everything else?” I asked.
Running my fingers through my hair, I scanned the room—it was cold and dismal. We needed to do something about that. I looked for my purse, not really sure where I’d left it. It wasn’t anywhere in sight, and then I remembered Tristan had placed it in the small closet. I kissed the back of Aiden’s hand and then went for my bag.
I pressed speed dial eight for Tristan.
“Hello, Mrs. Raine. Is everything okay?”
“There’s been no change, but I’d like to spruce up his room a bit. Something that’ll give it some warmth. We need to make him as comfortable as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it.”
“And let’s get some of Aiden’s things from home. His shaving kit is in our bathroom, in the bottom right drawer of the vanity. And contact Brooklyn to order some new pajamas … and some bed linen.”
“Of course,” Tristan said. “I’ll get on it right away.”
“Thank you, Tristan,” I said, and disconnected the call.
My lips curved into a smile as I looked down at Aiden. “You know you can’t sleep forever,” I said. “I know how much you dislike receiving flowers, so you need to wake up before I fill this room with tulips and orchids.”
As difficult as it was at times, I remained positive, talking to him and even telling the occasional joke. After all, as the article stated, there was a strong likelihood of coma patients hearing and understanding events happening around them. I was inclined to believe that was the case for Aiden, so I scrolled through my phone and found a few videos of the three of us—Aiden, Lyric and I. I played one after another, letting him hear our joy and laughter, and reminding him what he had to look forward to.
He hadn’t squeezed my hand anymore, even when I’d begged him to. I figured the absence of a response was due more to the medication in his system than his desire to show me he was still with me. He had to be, and he had to wake up. He and I had so much love to share—so much life to live—and there was no way he’d ever let me do it all on my own.
“Humph … well, I’d better make good use of the time I have to practice my own bedtime stories without your interrupting, right? And I think the first one should be about the hot prince.” I paused the plans for the story, wondering if I should continue with my train of thought. After a few minutes, I decided I should. “An evil sorceress cast a spell that placed him in a deep sleep and now the prince is awaiting a beautiful princess to come along and gift him a sweet kiss that breaks the hex.”
As if believing my own story, I leaned over Aiden and touched my mouth to his. I breathed him in, my lips lingering on his until tears streamed from my eyes. Reluctantly, I pulled away, wiping my tears as I glanced around the room.
It all looked so clinical. Glass containers with silver lids held dozens of cotton balls, gauze, and tongue depressors. On the shelf above that were large plastic bags holding various pieces of medical equipment. There was a tacky painting on the wall above the reclining chair, and beside that was the standard hospital bed. A call button was on the bed handle and another beside Aiden’s pillow. Above the bed were outlets and cords leading to all of the machines to which Aiden was connected.
As I turned back to him, my eyes welled with tears and the positive vibe I was desperate to maintain started to falter. Aiden no longer resembled the unconquerable titan of industry. He looked like a man I didn’t know …
He looked like a man who wasn’t going to wake up.
Chapter Fifteen
Day eleven. My mind was blank, and since I was too afraid to think, I preferred it that way. With no change in Aiden’s condition, it was easy to jump to the most horrific of conclusions. And each time I allowed that trail of negative energy to seep into my head, I was almost overcome with anger. I was thankful, therefore, for the absence of thought, but with each day that passed, a little more of me faded.
From outside the door, the sounds of unrecognizable voices and shuffling equipment sifted into the room. Turning toward the noise, my breath caught at the unexpected appearance of April, my best friend. A surge of gratitude coursed through me as she stepped into the room, rushing to pull me into a hug.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I said, stepping back from her embrace.
“Where else would I be?” she asked, her face falling as she took in my state of disarray. She glanced behind me, her expression even more dismal as her eyes rested on Aiden.
“I know,” I said, following her gaze. “It doesn’t seem real.”
“He’s going to be okay,” she said, her lips curving into a smile.
She studied my tear-stained face and moved her hand up and down my arm, offering her reassurance.
I moved the back of my palm over my eyes. “But what if he doesn’t make it? Something similar happened to that girl in college, remember? The doctor said she was going to be fine. He expected her to wake up from her coma, and then suddenly something went wrong, and she died.”
“That’s not going to happen to Aiden,” April said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about him, especially when it comes to you, he won’t let anything keep you two apart. Not even death. He’s too stubborn,” she said, grinning.
“He is, huh?”
“Of course he is. You of all people know that.”
“Yeah,” I said, shaking the nonsense out of my head. “You’re right, and I feel horrible for thinking the worst, but the longer it takes him to wake up, the more I start thinking about things I shouldn’t. I can’t lose him, April. I just can’t.”
“And you won’t. Come on. Let’s get you out of here. Don’t let him hear you like this.”
“So you think he can hear me?” I asked, perking up. “I really think he can, too,” I said, moving my hand over his.
“No one’s sure of what a person hears while unconscious, but I believe he can hear you,” she said. She grasped my hand. “Now come on. You need to get some air.”
“No, I won’t leave him. I can’t do that,” I replied, pulling away from her.
“Well, at least go splash some water on your face.”
“I can do that much, but I won’t even consider leaving him here alone.”
Her gaze was filled with warmth and compassion, but I saw the worry there too; she was looking at me as if I were standing on the edge of a plank, about to jump.
“I met Tristan,” April said, changing the subject. “He’s sitting in the waiting area. How about I have him do a tea run? And food. Have you eaten?” she asked.
“Not in a while,” I said, glancing at the unopened containers on the table. “But food sounds great. Thanks, April.” I kissed the fading bruise on Aiden’s cheek and then turned toward my best friend, pulling her into another hug. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Everything is going to be fine,” she said.
“I know. You’re right. I just need to be a little more patient.”
“Exactly,” she said, offering a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right back.”
In the bathroom, I splashed my face with some water and pulled the loose strands of my hair back into the barrette. In surveying my reflection in the mirror, I didn’t detect any signs of the patience I needed. I saw that same fearful woman I’d seen several days ago, the woman who was worried that her life with her husband was going to be cut short.
*****
April was able to s
tay for only two days and then she had to get back to work. She promised to check in everyday and she was confident I would soon have good news to share. Saying goodbye to her was hard—I wanted her to stay.
But April had to get back to her life, and as the door closed behind her, I stepped back into mine. Continuing my quest to block out reality, I sprayed some of Aiden’s cologne over his body, and then pumped a few more squirts in the air, casting a mist over his sheets. Turning the nozzle toward myself, I sprayed some on the collar of my shirt before placing the bottle on the table, and taking a seat beside the bed.
With my gaze fixed on him, I willed him to wake up—to open his eyes and let me know he was fine. I was a statue—unmoving as I counted the rises and falls of his chest. The low buzz of the fluorescent light bulbs pushed its way into my thoughts, somehow seeming louder—my attention then vacillating between the beeping equipment and the unending hum of artificial light. Needing to block out the irritating sounds, I increased the volume on the television and then slipped in the bed beside Aiden. This was my first time lying beside him, I’d been too afraid to get this close, too afraid of how it would affect me, but I needed this closeness. I rested my head on his chest, finding comfort in the steady beat of his heart. The familiar scent of his cologne masked the scent of sanitizer. Drawing in a deep breath, I bathed my insides with the smell of happier times. I lifted Aiden’s hand, pressed it to my lips and then lowered it to his chest, my fingers entwined with his.
I wanted to stay awake—to watch over him—but it wasn’t long before my weary body took over and pulled me toward slumber. Just for a little while. I’d rest my eyes … just for a little while.
Minutes later, half asleep, I was certain my imagination was toying with me when I heard the cracked whisper of my name. I didn’t really hear that. Did I? I’d been waiting so long to hear his voice that I was sure I was hearing what I wanted to hear. Lifting my head from his chest, I zeroed in on Aiden’s mouth and then raked my eyes over his face. He appeared the same as before, and his eyes were still closed. Then he said it again. My name. It was an almost indecipherable murmur, but I was positive I’d heard correctly—Aiden had whispered my name.
My chest tightening, I sat up beside him. “Aiden, can you hear me?” I asked, anxious for a confirmation. The muscles in his throat moved as he made an attempt to swallow, and then God answered my prayers. I saw the beautiful green of my husband’s eyes. He was finally awake.
My chest heaved and my eyes stung with tears as I placed a hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs.
“Don’t cry,” he said, his voice still small. So unlike the voice I was accustomed to hearing.
I reached for the call button. “He’s waking up. Can you get the doctor in here, please!” I turned back to him. “Thank God, you’re awake. How do you feel?”
His hand moved to his throat as he swallowed again.
“Water. You need water.” I looked toward the bedside table, but it only held my phone and my tablet. Not wanting to leave him—even for the short walk down the hall—I called the nurse’s station again. I was almost afraid to touch him, but I felt I needed to in order for it all to feel real. I noticed my hands trembling as I placed my palms on his cheek, tracing his strong, defined jawline. A few moments later, both Dr. Burgess and Nurse Connie filed into the room.
“I hear our patient’s finally awake,” Dr. Burgess said.
“Yes, and he’s talking,” I said. “Can we get this tube out of his nose?”
“Nurse, can you take care of the breathing tube?”
“Yes, doctor,” she replied.
“Aiden, I’m Dr. Burgess. You’re in the hospital.”
“I kind of picked up on that,” Aiden said, his voice raspy. “What happened?”
With his fingers on Aiden’s forehead, the doctor widened Aiden’s gaze and passed the flash of light across his eyes. “What’s the last thing you remember?” the doctor asked.
Aiden made a scratchy noise, trying to clear his throat. I poured a cup of water for him and held it to his lips, letting him sip through the straw.
“Would you like more?” I asked, when the cup was empty.
He shook his head and answered the doctor’s question. “Aria and I were at the benefit. We were just leaving. And Aria was headed across the—” he stopped and turned toward me. “Are you okay?” he asked.
There was a sudden spike in the frequency of beeps on the monitor.
“Let’s not get too anxious, Aiden,” the doctor said.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered, holding up my bandaged wrist. “A sprain.”
Aiden’s heart rate gradually resumed its normal pattern as the doctor filled Aiden in on the rest. “It was a hit and run,” he said. “A car was barreling toward your wife and you rushed toward her—to move her out of the way. Unfortunately, there wasn’t sufficient time for you to step out of the car’s path.”
Aiden looked at me standing on the other side of the bed. I reached for his hand as he turned back toward Dr. Burgess.
“Has the driver been apprehended?” Aiden asked.
“It was Nadia,” I blurted out. “She was the driver.”
Aiden’s gaze shot back to mine as the doctor continued, “I understand it was someone you all knew, and yes, she’s been arrested.”
Aiden was quiet, his gaze contemplative as he studied my face.
“Your most recent CT scan shows no bleeding or swelling,” said Dr. Burgess. “Your vitals are strong. Everything looks good.”
Aiden turned back to the doctor who was writing something on his chart. “So I can go home?”
“Not so fast. I want to keep you for observation—just one more night to make sure.”
I held my breath, watching intently as Dr. Burgess completed his examination.
“Mr. Raine, you gave us all quite a scare. From the looks of it, you’re doing well, and there’s no reason we shouldn’t expect a full recovery. You may experience some irritability, mild headaches, or sensitivity to light, but that will all pass over time.”
“Thanks, doc,” Aiden said.
“Mrs. Raine, if you’ll keep an eye out for the symptoms I mentioned,” the doctor said.
“You can count on it,” I said, exhaling my relief and assuming the chair beside Aiden’s bed. “You sure know how to scare the hell out of your wife,” I said, once the doctor had left.
“How long have you been here?” Aiden asked.
“Since the accident,” I replied. “Thirteen days ago.”
“You need to go home and get some rest,” he said.
“I’ve been doing that here, silly,” I said.
“And now you can take a break.”
“But the doctor said—”
“I already knew everything he was saying. Med school, remember?”
“No. I haven’t forgotten, Dr. Raine,” I said.
“It’s good to see your beautiful face, but you look tired, sweetheart.”
“I think you see more worry than you do fatigue. You’ve aged me twenty years,” I said, laughing.
He was silent a moment. “So Nadia did this,” he said. I wanted to scream I told you so, but that was a response that wouldn’t do either of us any good. “When did they catch her?” he asked.
“A few days after it happened. She’s still in jail.” Where she should have been all along, not in some plush resort posing as a rehab center.
“I’m sorry, Aria. If she had done anything to hurt you—”
“Well, she didn’t, but she did hurt you though and … and …” I couldn’t finish before my eyes welled with tears. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “You’ll never lose me. Don’t cry. Come here,” he said and reached for me.
I rested in his embrace, thankful I was once again in the arms of the only man I could ever love. Aiden moved to sit up once I’d released him. “Let me help you.” I went to fluff his pillows.
“The pillows are fine,”
he said, pushing the sheets back. “I’m getting out of this bed. I need to stretch my legs. I can’t believe it’s been thirteen days.”
“Yes, a very long thirteen days,” I replied.
“I’m sorry, babe,” he said.
“For what? You didn’t do anything. It was that psycho Nadia. Thank God she’s finally where she belongs,” I said.
Shaking his head, he let out a sigh. “I don’t know how Nadia could have done something like this.”
I knew how. She was fucking crazy. How many times had I said that only to be ignored? “I was her target, not you,” I said. “Hurting you wasn’t part of her plan.”
Aiden placed his palms on either side of the bed, his lips curving into a frown.
“Are you in pain?” I asked.
“No,” he replied. “That’s not it.”
My gaze trailed over him, taking in his large hands gripping the bed rails with white-knuckled force, then noticing his brows pinched together so tightly his eyes nearly disappeared. “Aiden. What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I can’t feel my legs.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Maybe they’re just numb. You know, from being still for so long,” I said.
“I don’t think that’s what’s going on,” he replied as his gaze reached mine. “Something’s not right.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, dammit, I’m sure. Get the doctor.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said, rushing from the room.
Luckily, Dr. Burgess was still on the floor, a few doors down speaking with Aiden’s nurse.
“Something’s wrong,” I said once I’d reached him. “Aiden doesn’t have feeling in his legs.”
“Come with me,” he said to the nurse as we started toward Aiden’s room.
“What’s wrong? Is this normal?” I asked.
“I’ll need to conduct an exam to get a better idea,” he replied.
“Why the hell can’t I feel my legs?” Aiden demanded when the doctor stepped through the door.
