by K. L. Savage
“Are you family?”
I hate that question. As a friend, it’s frustrating that blood makes family to a medical professional, but as a doctor, I understand not wanting to violate HIPAA. So I do what all people do in this situation. I lie.
I fucking hate liars. I like to kill people who lie to me more than twice, but given the situation, I need to do whatever I can to get into Joanna’s room. Right as I’m about to open my mouth, Tongue’s hand slaps against my chest, and he steps in front of me, towering over the doctor.
“We are her family.”
I peek my head around Tongue’s shoulder and see the doctor swallowing as he cranes his neck back to look at the savage tongue-cutting beast in front of him. “Um, all … of … you?” the doctor stutters, readjusting the frames of his glasses.
Tongue leans forward, arms crossed. “All of us. This—,” he slaps his hand on my chest again, taking the breath from my lungs—“is her fiancé, and we are his brothers.” Tongue spreads his arms wide to show the impressiveness of the men surrounding us. There are just a few of us here, but any regular Joe would be shaking in his boots. “I suggest you tell us what you know.” Tongue bends down until his nose is close to the doctor’s trembling shoulders and sniffs him. He groans as if he’s smelled something delightful, and the doctor leans back, trying to get away from Tongue. “I love the smell of a coward in the afternoon.”
His hand reaches for the knife on his hip, but it’s my turn to stop him with a hand to the chest. “What my brother here is trying to say is we are all family, and Joanna means the world to us. Is she okay?”
A drip of sweat rolls down the doctor’s temple, and his Adam’s apple bobs under the scruff of his day-old beard. “Um…” His voice shakes as he tries to get away from Tongue, but the menace keeps sniffing him and closing his eyes. Tongue is losing himself in the scent of fear, no doubt coming off the doctor in waves. “She is alive. It was very hit and miss. She died on the table, but we were able to bring her back.”
It’s a punch in the gut to hear that. It knocks the wind out of me. I know what it’s like to hear a flatline while operating on someone, and there is only a fifty-fifty chance at bringing them back. The person’s heart either beats again or it doesn’t.
“You’re talking dirty, doctor. I like that,” Tongue growls, sniffing him again.
“Damn it, Tongue. Snap out of it. This isn’t about you. This is about Joanna!” I snap. He lands his cold gaze on me, the bloodlust craze vanishes and is replaced with regret.
“Sorry.” He takes a step back and hides behind Reaper, not that it’s considered hiding since Tongue is a head taller than our Prez.
The doctor lets out a long breath as if he’s relieved he gets to breathe again. I bet he is. “She had to have two blood transfusions, and she has stitches up and down each arm after we repaired the veins. She’s going to be in pain for next couple weeks, but she will be fine. We are keeping her for a seventy-two-hour observation.”
Suicide watch.
And I’m going to be here for every minute of it. I’ll be damned if I leave her alone in her darkest time.
“Can I see her?” I ask. I know I can if I pull the doctor card; hell, I used to work at this hospital. This guy doesn’t know me, but I know people, and if he says no, I’m not afraid to call the big guy to allow me in. They have been begging for me to come back to the hospital, not that I’d tell Reaper that.
“Only two of you,” he says with an aged, shaky voice.
Well, that was easy.
Me and Reaper.
“I’ll be waiting out here,” Tongue says. He lurches forward and play bites the air, scaring the doctor.
“I got him.” Badge grips Tongue’s arm as he madly cackles through the waiting room. Slingshot and Braveheart shake their heads and follow the sound of what reminds me of an insane asylum. They sit in the chairs furthest away from the front desk.
“Sorry about him,” Reaper says. “Please, we would like to see her now.”
“He’s a danger to society,” the doctor grumbles. His white coat swishes as he turns around and heads through the double doors.
Reaper pulls up his pants by the Ruthless King skull belt buckle and mutters, “That’s kind of the point.” A subtle laugh leaves Reaper, and I try to calm my annoyance, but it’s too damn difficult. I’m the only person who seems to be in a rush.
I follow the man in charge of Joanna’s care, my heart beating faster than how quick my legs are moving to get to her room.
“Here you are,” the doctor informs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll give you guys some privacy.” He loosens the tie around his neck, and his collar is soaked with sweat. Wow, he really must have been scared.
We aren’t that bad.
Opening the door, I step inside the poorly lit room and see Joanna laying in the middle of her bed, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders, and her chest rising and falling.
She’s alive.
I’m so relieved to see her breathing. I stroll around to the side of the bed and pull a chair close. I slide my hand into hers and stare at the wrappings on her forearms. A familiar heat takes over my face when I realize I’ve been caught caring about Joanna a little more than I should.
I don’t know much about her, but I know there’s something between us. It’s evident every time we are around each other. It’s an odd energy that I’ve never felt with anyone before. I don’t know how to explain it. I barely understand it myself, but all I know is that I feel lighter, and it feels good to have a bit of weight lifted off my soul.
“Something you want to tell me?” Reaper asks, turning a chair backward and straddling the seat.
“No,” I state, staring at her pale face and high cheekbones. “No, I don’t want this blown out of proportion. I’m here for a friend.”
“Mmhmm, your secret is safe with me. Listen, whatever she needs, it’s hers. Like Patrick and Sunnie, she’s going to have to go to therapy. I’m ordering it. You’re a therapist, aren’t you?”
“I-I can’t get involved with her like that. She needs someone else. I’m sorry, Reaper, but I can’t be that person.”
“You might not have a choice in the matter. She may only trust you.”
I hope that isn’t the case. I don’t think I’d be able to think logically if she stepped into my office. Something about her has me in fits. I will just want to comfort her instead of being there and giving her solid advice like a therapist should.
“I’ll leave you alone. I’m glad she is okay. I’ll have the guys move her to the club—”
“Not the clubhouse. She needs her own space. Being around a lot of people, including the cut-sluts, it won’t be good for her.”
“She can’t be on her own.”
“I know. I know.” I sigh, smoothing a hand over my mouth. “Just move her in with me. Throw her stuff in the guest bedroom.”
“You’ll be her roommate, but not her doctor? Yeah, I see that going over really well.” He slaps my back and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re the one with the doctorate. I’ll trust you and your judgment. Are you staying for the seventy-two-hours?”
“Yeah, I’m staying. I don’t want her to think she’s alone.”
“I’ll have one of the guys bring supplies for you. Keep me updated.” Reaper gives Jo one last look and leaves. I hope I have control of my emotions and the strength that Reaper has. The man is a complete fortress, the ultimate badass, all while being President to a bunch of assholes like us.
Reaper shuts the door behind him, and the tension in the room is coming from me. Now that I’m alone with her, I don’t know what to do or say.
I bring her knuckles to my lips and press a kiss to them. “You scared me, Jo. You are the only one I know who sees right through me. You don’t see the doctor. You see the man who hides behind the doctor.”
You’re someone different than what I’m used to.
That’s what I really want to say, but the barbed wire fence aroun
d my heart tightens, reminding me that it isn’t a good idea to let anyone inside.
If I let her in, what if she does this again, and I don’t get to her in time?
My phone rings, and I have to let go of her hand to answer it. I hurry so I don’t wake her up. My mom’s name fills the screen, and I silently curse. Damn it. I forgot about dinner.
“Hey, Mom.” I keep my voice low. I turn away from Jo and get up, putting a few feet between us. “How are you?”
“Are we still on for tonight?” she asks. “I’m at the store, and I know how you get.”
I rub my temples as I figure out what to say.
“What happened, and when can you have dinner?” I can hear the smile through her words. I’m glad she knows me so well. I’d be lost without her.
“Mom…” I turn my head over my shoulder to check on Jo. I thought I heard her sigh. “I’m so sorry. An emergency came up. A friend of mine is in the hospital.”
“Oh, no! Well, that’s no problem. I understand. Let me know if there is anything I can do, okay? I’ll let you go. Now, tell me you love me.”
I smirk at her demand. “You know I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Give a hug to your friend for me. Let’s just do Sunday dinner, like usual.”
“You got it, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone and stuff it in my pocket.
I saunter over to the chair again and sit down. I’m fucking beat from the day, and it’s nowhere near over.
“Mmm,” Jo grunts, her brows pinching together as the anesthetic wears off. Her toes wiggle under the sheet, and her fingers twitch.
I stand up, excited from the movement. This is good. This is great fucking news. “Jo, hey. Come on, wake up. I’m here. Eric is here.” I stroke her cheek with my finger and the crease between her brows fade. A small smile tugs at her lips, but she doesn’t open those green eyes. “Come on, Jo. Let me see you. I need to know you’re okay.” The words of encouragement do nothing to seep into the unconscious state she’s in. I push her hair behind her ear and grin. “That’s okay. I’ll wait. I’m a patient man. Don’t hurry on my account.”
The gauze surrounding her arm rubs against the callouses on my hand. With my index finger, I draw a line down the middle of the bandage, knowing that underneath all the dressings are deep cuts that are bruised and ragged. The stitches probably look angry from pulling the skin tight. She isn’t going to be able to do anything for the next few weeks, not unless she wants to pull her stitches out.
“I just want to know what you were thinking,” I say, keeping my tone soft. “We haven’t gotten to know each other yet, not like we should.” There are more memories to be made besides one night of me spooning her so she’d stop screaming in the middle of the night. I’m not sure how I helped, but the moment I climbed into bed and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her back to my chest, her screams faded to a whimper. Eventually, she fell into a silent rest.
And what unsettles me the most is she brings me to a silent rest too.
No more overthinking.
No more stress.
No more burden of my past weighing on me.
The phantom pain of my dad’s scalpel hasn’t been there since I’ve heard her voice on the phone.
I’m a different man when she exists and if she didn’t, the man I’d become would start a war with himself.
Silence is scary, deafening.
What’s there to do in silence besides scream the pain away?
I don’t know. I’ve never learned, but Jo makes me want to.
I expect peace in death. Maybe learn if there is a heaven or hell. Am I going to spend an eternity in flames, or am I going to have wings and fly around the clouds? Or maybe none of that shit is real. Maybe it’s a void, a space where the afterlife gathers. Wishful thinking, I’m sure. When people die, that’s it. That’s where it ends. There isn’t anything after the last breath leaves your lungs.
And anything that says there is, it’s just a fable.
What I don’t expect is pain, which means, I’m not dead. I don’t know how the hell that can be. I made sure I cut long and deep. My eyes flutter open, and I expect the harsh light to make me wince, but the room is dark besides a glow coming from my left. I try to readjust my body, but my arms burn, and pain radiates up to my shoulders. I bite back a scream, but I can’t stop my eyes from pooling with water.
Holy fuck, that hurts.
“Jo?” a sleepy voice says beside me.
I stare at the door, completely shocked when I hear the nickname Eric gave me. I’m afraid to look because what if he isn’t there? What if I’m dreaming this, or this is some type of hell loop?
“Jo? Are you awake?” The side of the bed dips, and my eyes close when I smell his familiar cologne. I don’t know what it is, but it’s faint and it isn’t overpowering. It reminds me of fresh laundry after being dried, all warm with a fresh scent lingering.
I turn my head, and I don’t know what comes over me, but I start to sob uncontrollably. I can’t believe I’m alive. I’m embarrassed. I feel so lost and alone.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Eric settles beside me and covers us with another blanket. His body heat has me laying my head on his chest and holding him close. He wraps one arm around me and kisses the top of my head. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You don’t know how worried I’ve been. Everyone has been, actually.”
A tear falls on his shirt, and I try to wipe my cheek with the back of my hand, but the pain in my forearm stops me. “I’m sorry,” I say. I’ve never felt weaker than I do right now. Not even when I was cutting my arms open did I have this huge gaping hole in my chest like I do right now.
“You can talk to me, you know. I’m your friend, Jo. I’m always here. We don’t have to talk about this right now. You just woke up; I’m sure you want to relax.”
I shrug my shoulder in an uncaring way. I don’t know what I want. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be at home. I don’t want to talk. At the same time, I want Eric to stay next to me. I want to scream at the top of my lungs that I need help because I know I’m depressed, but nothing is coming out of my mouth. I don’t want to be alone again.
Alone.
I glance down at my stomach and lay my hand on top of it. The memory of taking a pregnancy test flares in my mind, and it reminds me that I’m never going to be alone again. I’m not strong enough to be a mother.
“Eric, I … has the doctor said anything to you about me?”
“Just that you are very lucky. You lost a lot of blood.”
My eyes dart around the room, my vision blurry as I decide how I want to tell a guy I care about that I’m pregnant with another man’s baby. An encounter I don’t remember. Not only am I ashamed for trying to kill myself and him coming to my rescue, but I’m ashamed that I’m a statistic. The typical college girl. The one who partied too hard, trusted the wrong people, and now her life is forever changed.
I need to talk to someone who isn’t Eric about this pregnancy. The judgment in his eyes will kill me, and I’ve judged myself enough.
“He’s been waiting on you to wake up so he can talk to you. You aren’t allowed to leave the hospital for another sixty-three hours. You’re on—”
“Suicide watch. Yeah, I know the drill. Can you help me sit up more? I can’t push myself into the mattress. It hurts the stitches.”
“Of course,” he says quickly. He pushes his hands under my arms and lifts me up. His face is close to mine, and his blue eyes are dark with a hint of gray surrounding the pupil. I hold my breath as our gazes sink into one another. A silly part of me thinks, for a second, that he might kiss me.
I know it isn’t the time or place, and I look like hell considering everything that brought us here. I’m also scared. I don’t want him to kiss me. I know if I feel his plump pink lips on mine, I’ll want them again and again. I have too much to deal with and dealing with more feelings than I already have for him is som
ething I can’t handle.
He leans his forehead against mine, and the break in connection has me remembering how to breathe again. “You have no idea how seeing you like that made me feel, Jo. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get it out of my head.” He cups the back of my head with his hand, and his minty breath ghosts over the tip of my nose. “I thought you were dead.”
“I wanted to be,” I admit, pulling away from him, and it’s like I’m creating a rift. I’m causing the space between us. I know he means well, and I know he wants to be my friend, but I can’t. “I still want to, Eric.”
He sits up, shock written all over his face, and his blue eyes are as wide as saucers. He scoffs and shakes his head. “What?” he gasps in disbelief, and then makes a few gestures with his hand. His brows are curled in the middle, and his cheeks turn red.
“You’re angry,” I notice.
“I’m trying not to be. I’m trying not to be selfish, but aside from my knowledge as a doctor, because medically—I get it. As your friend? Jo…” He takes my hand in his, and the first thing I notice is how big his palm is. He has a few old scars crisscrossed around his knuckles, like he hit something a few too many times, but other than that, his arms are golden, kissed by the sun itself. His hair is a dirty brownish blond, something in between. When the light hits it, I can see natural blond highlights, but when it’s a little darker, like it is now, it looks brown. “Jo, please.” He doesn’t give me a reason; he stares at me with sad ocean eyes.
An angel doesn’t come in white wings and a halo; they come disguised as the person you need most. The problem here is me. I’ll be the reason his good is tainted and inked in darkness, and I can’t be to blame for that. I’m too much for someone to handle.
I’ve heard that my entire life, and I’m not about to become a burden for someone else to dump. I know how it sounds. Pity me, pathetic Joanna, always looking for attention with her sad bullshit. I’m not trying to throw a pity party. I’m not seeking attention. I’m just trying to get some peace. Growing up, it was just me and my father. We lived in a rundown trailer park, and everyone pointed out how I was trailer trash, the girl with dirty clothes and a drunk dad who liked to hit me more times than not.
