Chapter 6
Chapter
Vivian
Something was off with Lennon. He’d been so quiet when I told him the details of our attack. I’d expected him to rant, maybe even rage, but he didn’t. He’d simply absorbed the information with that same patient expression on his face.
Only later did I realize that Lennon had slipped on a mask in the hospital—and that armor concealed something that happened the night we were attacked. I wasn’t sure what had transpired between Lennon and those men, but those moments had left serious consequences.
Clearly, those long, long minutes when I’d run for help, my heart thumping, had been violent and painful for Lennon. Thankfully, as I’d turned the corner, I’d found a police cruiser easing down the street a couple of blocks away. I’d sprinted into the road, waving my arms and screaming. Well, I’d tried to scream, but I was breathless and unable to do so. Still, the patrol team had noticed me and flipped on their lights so they could get to me faster.
Breathing choppily, I’d told them of the attack, pointing to the road. The man and woman had wasted no time speeding toward the Lennon, siren blaring. I’d slammed my palms to my ears and ducked my head. But my need to get back to Lennon had outweighed the discomfort, and I’d followed the cruiser to the scene. When I arrived, the female officer had been bent over Lennon, assessing his injuries as she spoke into her shoulder microphone. The male officer had torn off down the road, probably after our attackers, though I couldn’t see them.
I’d fallen to my knees, cradling Lennon’s bloodied head in my lap. “Do you have anything I can use to compress the wounds?” I’d asked.
The officer had nodded and hurried back to her rig.
“Oh, Lennon,” I’d murmured. “Please be okay. I need you to be okay.”
I’d bitten back the sob working its way up from my chest and focused on doing my best to mitigate his injuries. I’d breathed a sigh when I realized the wound to his scalp wasn’t deep. The bruise to his temple worried me, and my anxiety had ratcheted up when he began to mumble about not letting the men hurt me.
“Not Vivi. She’s precious. Beautiful. Not Vivi. I won’t let you hurt Vivi.”
My heart had swelled. Even in this vulnerable state, Lennon had thought of me, wanted to protect me at great cost to himself.
“You’re safe now,” I’d told him. The officer had thrust a cloth toward me, and I’d applied pressure to the wound on his scalp, pulling the fabric around so I could also compress the deeper cut on his neck.
“Vivi,” Lennon had mumbled. “Too sweet to be caught up with me. Ruben was right. I always end up causing hurt.”
Clearly Lennon didn’t remember those frenetic moments between the police’s arrival and the trip in the ambulance. He’d passed out when they lifted him onto the gurney.
I’d insisted on riding in the ambulance, nodding my thanks for the antiseptic wipe the EMTs had given me to wipe my bloodied hands.
By the time we’d arrived at the hospital, I’d calmed down enough to realize Lennon wasn’t in imminent danger. I’d given the officers my statement and then gone to sit in the waiting room.
A little girl there had looked at me and my blood-covered dress and burst into tears. The charge nurse had come around the corner to see why the child was so freaked out and shook her head. “You, come with me.”
Linda, as I found her name to be, had offered me the staff’s bathroom facilities and a pair of her scrubs, which I was still wearing because I hadn’t wanted to leave the hospital until I was absolutely positive Lennon would be okay.
I looked over at him in the bed as he stirred. “What do you need?” I asked.
He peered up at me from half-mast lids. Whatever medication they’d given him was strong. Or his concussion symptoms were worse than I’d assumed. I bit my lip, wanting to ask him about his history with concussion, but I stopped.
Delving into Lennon’s medical history might upset him. Better to let him tell me what he wanted, when he wanted.
“Water, please,” he said.
I picked up the cup and tipped the straw so he could sip the liquid comfortably.
“You have to go home, Vivi,” he told me.
I frowned. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I kept my tone light, but my heart was heavy.
“No, of course not. But you have a job, and I’m sure there are consequences for missing a shift. I don’t want that for you.”
“I’ve already called the hospital?—”
“But you told me you didn’t have a lot of accrued time off. Don’t waste it on me.”
“It’s not wasted,” I snapped. Then, I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “I want to be here. With you.”
“There’s nothing you can do for me here. Except lose your job, and I don’t think you’re willing to let me pay your rent.”
I looked away because he was right; I wasn’t comfortable with Lennon paying any of my expenses. We hardly knew each other. “I…” I swallowed the lump bulging in my throat. “I don’t want to leave you.” I don’t want to lose you. You’re the very best thing that’s happened to me in years, since before my mother fell ill.
Yesterday, I might have said that to Lennon, but now something was different. The situation between us was…off. “You don’t want me anymore,” I whispered.
“Oh, Vivi. No, that’s not true. I…” He closed his eyes, and his lashes tangled together as he squeezed them shut. “I care about you. A lot.” He met my gaze. “But I can’t be the reason you’re hurt, that you lose your job or can’t make rent. That’s not okay. You see where I’m coming from.”
Slowly, I nodded. I did see, but something deep inside me said that if I left now, this way, nothing would be right between us again. “I…”
“I’m going to be stuck here for…what?”
“Two days, possibly more,” a voice said from the doorway.
We both turned, Lennon more slowly and with obvious discomfort, to see an older woman in a white lab coat standing just inside the room. She had a small pair of silver-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose. “I’m Dr. Delancy, and I can say with a degree of certitude that you aren’t going to be leaving for a minimum of two days. I think four is more likely.”
“Why’s that, Dr. Delancy?” Lennon asked.
“Because we’re monitoring internal bleeding.” She raised her eyebrows. “And for concussion protocol. I really don’t like the initial scans.”
Lennon turned quiet. After a long moment, he asked, “Is it bad? I’ll have to let my team doctor know, so I need to be prepared for the outcome of your decision.”
I sucked in a breath as the situation formed a clear picture: Lennon might not be able to play hockey for a while—maybe ever—because he’d saved me.
I struggled to keep my breathing calm and my expression neutral, but I could now understand why he was so adamant that I leave. The attack may have cost Lennon his livelihood. Of course he needed space.
Dr. Delancy and Lennon spoke longer, but their words were white noise to me. I kept seeing him on the ground. My mind returned over and over again to the blood. To his mutterings.
He must resent me. I couldn’t blame him. I bit the inside of my cheek; the pain centered me, just as it had when my mother was alive. I made the painful decision, the necessary one: I had to go. I had to give Lennon the chance to heal and the space he’d asked for.
That also meant I had to give up the possibility of a future with him.
He might want you again, once he’s cleared to play—once the trauma of the attack fades.
I nearly snorted. Always the optimist . Somehow, no matter how bad the situation became, I couldn’t stop wishing for a better outcome.
That was over.
I wasn’t meant for a family or happiness. Best I could do was ease pain for others.
Time to take your medicine, Vivian. Take it and move on. Let Lennon live his life.
Get used to being alone. That’s what always happens. That’s what you deserve.