by Palmer, Dee
Yes…yes I can.
“You can can’t you?” Atticus breaks the kiss when Logan speaks, and fresh lips replace the salty kiss that Atticus and I shared.
Wake the fuck up, Tia! I want to shake the life back into me. Look what you’re missing, lying here like a useless sack of crap. Wake the fuck up and participate!
It’s been a three weeks since I closed my eyes and decided not to wake up. I didn’t make that decision, my brain did, and I fucking hate my brain right now. This is like purgatory. I know it’s been a whole three weeks because Atticus and Logan tell me each day. They change my clothes, wash me, talk to me and each other. Play chess across the bed and make me howl with laughter and frustration. I don’t move a muscle but they know they affect me. I blush at their banter, my heart rate rockets making the monitor I’m attached to spring to life when they touch me, and at my lowest points I cry a single tear every once in a while.
Atticus has been doing my exercises and threatening all kinds of kinky treats if I just open my eyes. I’ve opened them a hundred times over in my head but the blackness surrounds me like a thick winter coat on bright summer day, irritating and unnecessary.
“How is she?” Logan asks his voice is filled with misplaced optimism.
“Sexy as fuck and stubbornly refusing to wake up and give me head.” Atticus retorts.
“I thought you were supposed to be the classy one.”
“I’ll cry out ‘God save the Queen’ when I come if that makes you feel better,” he quips.
“You not mentioning anything to do with sex and my girlfriend would make me feel better.” Logan growls, but I can hear the seriousness in his tone is missing its edge.
“My girlfriend.” Atticus clarifies.
“Our girlfriend.” Logan offers, and in my mind’s eye, I can see the wickedly wide grin stretching his perfectly soft lips when he agrees. Wait, that’s not my minds eye, that is my actual eye. I blink rapidly and the bright light hurts but I relish the pain. I’m eager to take in the vision before me. Atticus has placed my good leg back and walks around to the end of the bed where Logan is looking at what I assume is my chart.
“I wish I understood all this crap.” Logan flips a few pages up and lets them flutter back. He replaces the board at the end of my bed and wanders over to the window. Atticus follows and I can’t help smiling at the easy way they seem to be with each other. There’s certainly no visible tension, stiff body language or even much distance as they stand almost shoulder to shoulder regarding the same view. It’s so very strange, and I can’t help watching the spectacle for a little while longer.
“She’s in good hands and when I get her home she’ll be in even better hands.” Atticus pats Logan’s shoulder, and Logan snorts out a flat, humourless laugh.
“Get her home? What makes you think she’s going home with you?”
“Because I can take care of her. It’s a large flat and will be easier for her to get around on one level until she’s fully recovered.”
“I can take care of her too and trust me, she’s going to want to come back to our home.” Logan emphasises the last word, and I can feel his affection for the term like a warm, familiar blanket. Our home. “And honestly Atticus, I don’t think she’s going to give a flying fuck how big your flat is—”
“She’s coming home with me.” Atticus swings round and squares up to Logan. They are angled slightly away from me so I don’t get the full effect of the standoff, but I can feel the surge of testosterone and anger as it hits the room like a seismic wave.
“Over my dead body.” Logan grits through his teeth, and all that easy camaraderie from earlier vanishes, and with it, my desire to remain silent.
“Don’t I get a choice?” My voice sounds as rough as it feels, scratching its way from the back of my throat and out into the small hospital room. It’s barely above a whisper but they heard, and the stunned silence that greets me is unnerving. They are both rooted to the spot and I’m about to pinch myself because I’m worried this might be some drug-induced dream when they both rush across the room. Four strong, sure hands race to touch and caress almost every inch of my body, leaving a wake of tingles and an irrepressible smile on my face. This isn’t a dream; this is heaven.
“Tia! Tia are you okay?” Atticus’s hand settles on my cheek, his eyes wide, bright blue and piercing into me.
“Does anything hurt? Can you feel this?” Logan’s hands sweep the length of my legs, skimming my torso with lightning speed until his thumb and finger stop on my arm and he secures enough flesh to pinch.
“Ow! Yes, I can feel that.” I flinch away as much as my limited mobility will allow.
“And this.” Reassured by my smile and reaction, Logan uses his fingers to hone in on more sensitive spots, with a mix of tender strokes and teasing tickles. At the same time, he moves close enough to press his lips to my cheek and Atticus does the same.
“Yes…yes.” I giggle-sigh as I’m peppered with a dozen kisses over every part of my exposed neck and cheeks. I feel dizzy and adored and in no rush for them to ever stop, but they do.
“I’ll get the doctor. This is great!” Logan beams at me and pushes himself upright. He steps back from my side and is about to turn away when I shake my head, wiggle the fingers of my hand in the cast and motion for him to come close again.
“Wait! Wait, Logan, please don’t go.” He is instantly at my side before I finish my sentence, concern etched on every tired line on his brow and around his dark eyes. “Can you give us a minute before they start with more tests? I’m okay; I just need a minute,” I explain, and some of the worry seems to lift when his shoulders drop. He lets out a deep breath, nods, and flashes a knowing smile filled with relief.
“Of course. Would you like some water?” He perches carefully on the other side of the bed.
“Yes, that would be great, my throat feels like I’ve been chewing on sand for three weeks.” Taking the cue I gave myself, I try to swallow and the raw burn makes my eyes water.
“You had a tube in there for a while and not speaking for so long is going to affect your speech for a bit.” Atticus explains, taking the cup of water from Logan. Atticus is seated on my good side, with my one free arm and break-free leg. All the same, I’m a little shaky and he helps me steady the glass to my lips, before handing it back to Logan.
“You sound sexy as fuck, T.” Logan grins suggestively and I cough on the little water I had in my mouth.
“Yeah, I’m smoking hot in this sexy arse gown, arm and leg in casts, black and blue and…” I pause and smooth my hand over the slight mound on my abdomen unable to finish my sentence.
“Pregnant.” Logan states and threads his fingers with those of mine that are peeking from the edge of my cast. Atticus shuffles to get a little closer, and taking my hand in his, he encloses both of his firmly over mine. Time seems to freeze as I look at Logan and then Atticus; Atticus then Logan and, they return my gaze like I’m the only person on the planet. No, even that’s a gross understatement. They look at me like I’m the only person in the whole damn universe.
“It’s true then? How? How can that even be possible?” My voice wavers, not from disuse but from the swell of emotion coursing through me. I draw much needed comfort from their closeness.
“What actually happened when you were in the prison hospital, Tia?” Atticus asks and Logan nods, clearly wanting the same information. I suck in a deep breath and try to recall. Self-preservation meant I buried it all, deep. It wasn’t anything I ever wanted to think of, so I didn’t. I told Logan about the attack, but what happened after, well, what was the point reliving it through words. It was my nightmare, and I wanted to forget. Now though, everything has changed and its time to delve…deeper.
“I…I was only semi-conscious after the attack.” I speak after the few long, silent seconds I needed to compose myself. “I had emergency surgery, and when I woke, they told me I had had a hysterectomy.” I swallow, and the pain in my throat is nothing as I rec
all each agonising revelation as it was told to me. “They said it was the only option to save me. I had lesions and massive internal bleeding. I was told I would always be in agony from the damage so they did what had to be done. I didn’t argue. At the time I was too out of it to take it all in and after, well, what good would it do? It was done. I was in prison and no one cared.” I draw in a stuttered breath, and taking a moment before I can continue, I drink down the comfort and love that surrounds me. I need it. “I had a follow-up consultation with the doctor that performed the operation. It was awful. The doctor was clinical and cold, he wouldn’t even make eye contact. He didn’t explain anything, he orated like he was giving a seminar. I wasn’t a frightened young woman, I wasn’t even a patient, I was a member of his audience. He told me I had one working ovary remaining, which meant I didn’t need to be given any hormone replacement therapy and I would most likely start the menopause in my mid thirties. I might need to take tablets then. He didn’t give me an internal examination, he pressed around my tummy a bit and then signed me off.”
“You never sought a second opinion when you were released?” Atticus’s tone is incredulous and even sounds accusatory.
“I didn’t do anything wrong here,” I snap. Tears spring to my eyes, too fat to contain, and flow on to my cheek.
“Oh god, Tia, I didn’t mean that.” He looks mortified and is quick to soften his tone, but he continues to muse out loud. “It’s just, a major surgery, you’d think you would know your body.” I ease myself back, creating a little space to face him.
“Can you feel you don’t have an appendix Atticus? I mean, apart from the scar…would you know? Unless you went back for a scan, for all you know your little appendix could be sitting in there this whole time. I was told I had a hysterectomy, why would I question that? My periods were always light to non-existent, and it wasn’t like I was sexually active. I had no reason to go to a doctor, no reason to doubt what they told me. And regardless, why would anyone lie about giving a nineteen-year-old woman a hysterectomy, least of all a doctor?” The pitch of my voice escalates with every righteous declaration until Logan pulls me back from the brink with his deep, commanding voice.
“I think I can answer that.” The tears that had started to trickle, now dry with the comforting squeeze of Logan’s hand. “I managed to track down the doctor who performed the phantom hysterectomy.” His jaw pulses, and his thick brows knit together, forming a dark and furious expression. I feel like it should be me confirming him, as he struggles to swallow and force the words out. “He was struck off, sued for gross negligence. There were many victims of his incompetence,” he bites out and roughly runs his hand through his hair, disgust and rage distorting his features. I squeeze as much of his fingertips as I can, and he offers a placatory smile before he continues. “Shortly after you were released, it was discovered he had given thirty-four misdiagnoses and claimed to have performed surgeries when in actual fact he did little more than a D & C. Records were misplaced, partly completed or not filled in at all. On the day you had your surgery there was another lady, Tiara Palmer, and your records were actually combined with hers. It wasn’t until the court case that they discovered you were actually two people.”
“How was I not told? If there was a court case, wasn’t it in the papers?” I feel sick. I’m not sure if I had much colour to begin with, but I feel it drain from my body.
“It was in the paper, Tia. I read the papers and must have missed it. All potential victims were sent a letter by the prosecution. Your probation officer said he had forwarded all posts, but you know yourself, you stopped getting mail after the first year. It slipped through the cracks, Tia. I’m so sorry.” Logan’s hands cup my face, and I can see he means every word. He is sorry, like this is somehow his fault.
“Why are you sorry?”
“This is unbelievable gross negligence, and the trauma you’ve suffered, you can’t even sue the fucker. He died last year. We could probably sue the prison, maybe?” he mutters, and Atticus nods in agreement. Like a wave retreating on the sand, revealing a glorious beach, I can feel the shock begin to ebb. My wonderful reality starts to creep in, and I can honestly say suing anyone is the last thing on my mind.
“I don’t care about suing anyone.” I stop them before they take that notion any further.
I’m not that damaged after all.
I’m having a baby.
No, I’m having twins.
“I’m pregnant,” I announce on a long and happy exhale.
“Yep.” They both reply in unison.
“Twins.”
“Twins.” They repeat.
“Oh god, I don’t know who the father is!”
“Can you gentlemen leave us while I check Miss Parker over?” The nurse was passing did a double take at the open door. It was almost comical but she quickly regained her professional composure and efficiency. She brushes past Logan and waves off Atticus from the other side of my bed. They move like a gentle wave, easing back to give her room to check my tubes and pulse only to fill the space as soon as she moves away.
“No,” Logan answers emphatically.
“No, I didn’t think so.” She raises her brow and straightens her back so she can at least attempt to look him in the eye. She’s a good few inches adrift, but what she lacks in height she makes up in sheer presence. “Look, Mr Matthews…” She turns her head toward me but looks directly at Atticus. “Whatever you have been discussing has her pulse rocketing, and I don’t want her slipping back into a coma. It’s not a request, it’s an order.” She points her finger to the door and tips her head, waiting for them both to follow her instruction, which they do. They hover like lost sheep at the doorway; however, the nurse doesn’t falter in her resolve. “The doctor will tell you if and when you can come back.” Atticus looks like he’s going to snap. Even from here I can see his jaw muscle jumping like crazy. Logan’s pats his shoulder and they step over the threshold. The nurse walks over to shut the door.
“Tia, we’re right outside!” Logan doesn’t so much shout as growl the words like a threat. Unaffected, the nurse simply closes the curtain across the vision panel in the door and turns to face me. My jaw is drops. She rolls her eyes and mutters, “Men…”
“Wow, I’ve never seen either of then actually do as they are told before.” My voice holds just the right degree of awe. This woman is five foot nothing, and I swear I saw a flash of fear in both of their eyes when she addressed them.
“I know for a fact neither of them would’ve left if I hadn’t frightened them. They have been a royal pain in my arse.”
“I can imagine.” I snicker since her irritated tone holds little credence when her eyes are smiling like they are.
“My name is Caroline. I’m the ward sister.”
“Hello, Caroline. Um, it wasn’t only them you frightened though, will I fall asleep again?”
“I’m sorry, that was definitely meant as a means to get your men to leave the room. In my experience, no, but each patient is different and head injuries are always taken seriously. I think it’s best we let the doctor check you over, shall we?” She continues to speak since I don’t think the question warranted an actual answer. “I’m sure you have many questions, but there’s no need to rush, we have plenty of time to get you fighting fit. These broken bones will likely take months to heal.” She adjusts the strap holding my arm and then fiddles with my IV tube.
“I’m going to be in here for months?”
“Not necessarily, but you will need lots of care, rehabilitation and rest. You have more than yourself to look after.” Her eyes dip down the bed and my free hand flies to lay a protective cover over my tummy.
“Yes, I know. It’s a lot to take in.”
“It is, but you have two men out there that haven’t left your side for a moment, so I think its safe to say you’re not going to be alone.”
“Is it possible to find out who the father is, before the birth I mean?”
“You ca
n, if you want or you can wait, you’ve been through a lot.” She rests a comforting hand on my shoulder, and her soft smile tells me she’s knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“I don’t know who the father is, and I think they will want to know,” I tell her all the same.
“What do you want?”
“I want time to think.”
“Then I suggest that’s what you give yourself.”
The door swings wide and a tall man wearing a smart navy suit, bow tie and a Consultant Surgeon badge enters the room. I recognise him as the doctor that told me I was pregnant but he doesn’t have his string of student doctors in tow this time. He strides purposefully into the room, takes the chart from the end of my bed and settles to stand next to Caroline. The numerous grey flecks in his jet-black curly hair suggest a man much older than the smooth dark skin on his face. He raises a thick brow when Logan and Atticus appear like shadows at his side but his focus is otherwise in me.
“Good, sore and in shock, but I feel good.”
“That’s very good to hear. You’ve had us all a little worried, although some more than others.” He winks.
“Is she going to be all right? Are the babies okay?” Logan asks.
“When can she come home?” Atticus adds his own rapid-fire question.
“Gentlemen, I understand your concern. How about you step back and let me see if I can answer some of your questions.” The doctor moves around the bed and both Logan and Atticus give him just enough room to examine me. He casts one of those looks at Caroline when my good leg fails the flexion test.
“Can you feel this?” He pinches my big toe on both feet.
“Yes.”
“And this?” He runs the end of his pen the length of my leg, first the right then parts of the left that aren’t encased in plaster.
“Yes. I can feel all of that, why can’t I move my legs?” I can hear the panic in my voice.
“You suffered extensive injuries. Its possible there is some swelling around the spine that might be preventing movement. It is encouraging that you have sensation throughout the lower body. It’s early days, Miss Parker; give your body time to recover. I’ll arrange for some scans so we can get a better picture of what’s going on. In the meantime, you need to rest.”
