Chapter 3 Micah #2
Two officers step in, both in uniform. I recognize one of them immediately. Deputy Morrison, the same older officer who probably responded to the scene. The other is younger, maybe early thirties, with a military haircut and an intense gaze that has me tensing in his presence.
"Micah," Morrison says, nodding at me. "Good to see you awake. This is Detective Pinkney, from a few cities over. We just need to ask you a few questions about what happened this afternoon. Take your time, and if you need us to stop, just say so."
I nod again, more carefully this time.
"Can you tell us what you remember?" Pinkney asks, pulling out a small notebook.
I take a breath, wincing at the pain in my ribs. "I was on the roof, finishing up some repair work on the entertainment building downtown. Was packing up my tools when I saw Derek and Colt at the bottom of my ladder."
"Derek and Colt?" Morrison prompts. "Can you give us their last names?"
"Derek Hutchins and Colt... Brennan, I think?
" I try to remember. "They approached me at Riley's Bar a few nights ago.
I turned them down. They didn't take it well." That whole evening was a disaster and while I wish I had gotten my dick wet, I’m glad now that I wasn’t drunk enough to go home with them.
Pinkney hums as he jots that down as well. "What happened when you saw them today?"
"They started calling up to me. Making comments.
" Heat rises in my cheeks at the memory of their crude suggestions.
"I told them I wasn't interested, same as before. Started climbing down the ladder because I needed to get past them and I wasn’t going to risk them knocking away my only escape.
I should have just stayed up there." Jamie gently squeezes my shoulder, a sigh falling from my lips.
"And then?" Morrison's voice softens, encouraging me to continue.
"They started shaking the ladder. At first, I thought they were just messing around, but they wouldn't stop even when I asked them to.
" My voice breaks slightly. "The ladder came off the roof.
I hit my head on one of the rungs, and then I was falling.
Something caught my neck on the way down. Metal, I think? Then I hit the ground."
"Fucking hell," Pinkney mutters, and Morrison shoots him a look.
"What is it?" Jamie leans forward in his chair, his expression darkening as he searches both their expressions.
Morrison turns to him. "Karma must have got them or some shit because they were brought in about two hours ago on an entirely different charge. Got into a fight at another bar, and assaulted someone. They're in custody."
There's a beat of silence as that information sinks in. They can’t hurt anyone else for the time being but I have a feeling they won’t stay behind bars for long. They look like they’ve got money and in a small town like this, the officers tend to prefer bail money over letting people sit in jail.
"Micah, I'm assuming you're pressing charges?" Morrison asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I nod emphatically, then immediately regret it as the headache I’m already suffering from surges. White spots dance across my vision and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through the pain.
"Alright, that's enough," Dr. Reeves says firmly. She's suddenly at my bedside again, her hand on my shoulder. "Micah needs rest. You can come back tomorrow and ask more questions if you need to."
"I think we got what we need," Morrison says. "There were a lot of eyewitnesses. Your statement confirms what we already heard. We'll be in touch about the charges."
They file out, and Dr. Reeves adjusts something on the IV stand beside my bed.
"I'm increasing your pain medication. You should feel some relief in a few minutes.
" She pats the bed gently, drawing my attention to her.
"Really glad to see you're awake, Micah.
You gave us quite a scare. The call button is next to you if you need anything, alright?
" She looks at Jamie. "And Jamie, visiting hours are over in ten minutes. "
He throws her a nod, obviously disappointed about leaving, but that makes me realize I haven’t just been here for a few hours. I frown, turning my head carefully to look at Jamie. "Wait, what time is it?"
"Almost ten pm," Jamie says, pulling his phone out to check. "You've been touch-and-go for a while. They weren't sure when you'd wake up."
I've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours. The fall was in the early morning, which means I've lost most of the day. I groan and sag back against the pillow, exhaustion hitting me like a wave. But even as tired as I am, my eyes keep drifting to the door. I'm searching for something, someone.
"What are you looking for?" Jamie asks, following my gaze.
"I'm not sure," I admit. But that's a lie. I know exactly what I'm looking for. That scent. That Alpha. The one who held me and told me to stay awake, whose face I can still see clearly even though everything else about the fall is hazy.
Jamie leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "If you're looking for your knight in shining armor who came to your aid, he's not coming."
My heart sinks.
"Kellan Hayes from the goddamn band that's gracing our little town?
" Jamie continues, oblivious to the way my chest constricts at the name.
"He's not going to step foot in here. He sent flowers, though.
Or his manager did, I don't know." Jamie points to the table with all the arrangements.
"That big fancy one in the back with the white lilies and roses. That's from them."
I turn my head slowly, carefully, to look at the flower display.
There are so many arrangements I hadn't noticed the specific one Jamie's pointing to.
But now that he's mentioned it, I can see it.
It's massive, probably the most expensive arrangement in the room.
White lilies, red roses, some kind of greenery I don't recognize.
Elegant. Professional. The kind of thing a manager would order to look good for publicity.
But then my thoughts run back to the Alpha who held me against his chest.
Kellan Hayes. The drummer from the poster. I replay the name in my mind, silently trying it out on my tongue. Kellan. It fits him somehow, matching the intensity in his eyes and the gentleness in his hands.
I hide my smile, ducking my chin a little so Jamie doesn't see the stupid expression that must be on my face. Kellan sent flowers. Or his manager did. Either way, there's something from him in this room, some acknowledgment that what happened between us was real.
"I'll come check on you in the morning," Jamie says as he stands, throwing his arms up to stretch. He lets out a grunt as his back cracks, and then he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I’ll even bring you an actual cup of coffee because the coffee here is shit. Hospital coffee is always shit."
I laugh at that, before clutching my stomach, groaning as the movement pulls at my bruised ribs and the stitches across my chest. "Sorry, man," Jamie says, wincing sympathetically. "Get some rest, okay? I'll be back tomorrow."
He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, careful to avoid any injuries, and then he's gone. The door closes behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone in the hospital room with just the steady beep of monitors and my own thoughts.
I wait until I'm sure he's really gone, that he's not going to come back because he forgot something. Then I carefully, painfully, shift myself up slightly in the bed. Every movement is agony. My ribs protest, but I need to do this.
I reach out toward the flower table, stretching as far as I can without pulling my stitches. My fingers just barely brush the edge of the vase with the white lilies and roses. I try again, gritting my teeth against the pain, and manage to get enough of a grip to slide it closer.
The vase is heavy, probably crystal or something expensive.
I drag it across the table until it's within easy reach, then carefully pull a single rose from the arrangement.
It's perfect, a deep red bloom that hasn't quite fully opened yet and then like a fucking weirdo, I bring it to my nose and inhale.
The scent of the rose hits me first, but underneath it, is something else. Sweet rum.
He touched these flowers. Maybe he picked them out himself, or maybe he just happened to be near them when they were being arranged. But his scent is there, clinging to the petals, marking them as his in that primal Alpha way.
I breathe it in deeper, my eyes falling closed. Sweet rum fills my lungs, and for a moment I'm back on that concrete. Strong arms holding me. A rough voice telling me to stay awake. Worried eyes and tattooed skin and piercings that caught the morning light.
It had only been a brief moment but it feels important. I blame it on the drugs coursing through me and the weariness stealing me into the darkness again.
However, lying in this hospital bed with his scent on a stolen rose, I let myself imagine something impossible. What if he came to check on me? What if that wasn't just an Alpha responding to someone in distress, but something more? What if he felt even a fraction of what I felt in that moment?
I know it's stupid. Kellan Hayes is a rockstar, a famous drummer in a band that's big enough to headline charity galas. He probably saves people all the time, probably has that same intense concern for everyone. It didn't mean anything. I was just another stranger, another person who needed help.
But god, the way he looked at me…
I clutch the rose to my chest, careful not to crush the petals. Just holding it makes me feel closer to him somehow, connected to that moment when everything hurt, but his presence made it bearable.