Chapter 23 Kamirah #2
I clicked on his contact and hit Call. His phone rang and rang, then switched over to a message service. I let out a choked sob and said, “V, I need you. So does Chris. Please call me.”
I hung up, and only a moment later my cell phone rang. “Kam? Sweet thing, what’s wrong?”
“Everything.” My tears started flowing again, and I cried uncontrollably. “It’s Chris. He’s in the hospital.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s hurt. They hurt him.”
“Kamirah, listen to me. I need to know this. Is he going to survive?”
“Yeah. But they hurt him. They hit him and kicked him.”
“Where are you, sweet thing? Which hospital? I’m coming.”
Relief hit me, and I sagged into the hard plastic chair. He hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t told me no. “Boston General.”
There was a pause. “Boston General as in Boston, Massachusetts?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Oh Chris, what have you done?” he murmured. I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say a word, V vowed, “I'm coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Kamirah. I promise. You aren’t alone.”
“Thank you.” He hung up, and I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cream wall, more tears falling.
I didn’t know how long I sat there before I heard, “Mrs. Minns?”
I opened my eyes to see the doctor who’d seen Chris sitting next to me.
She had long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, her stethoscope hooked around her neck, and her blue-green scrubs covered by a white lab coat.
“I’m Dr. Reeves. We’ve finished examining your husband.
He’s getting settled in a room. We’re going to keep him for a few days for observation. ”
“Is he okay?” I asked.
“He’s pretty banged up. He has two fractured ribs and an orbital floor fracture—a cracked eye socket,” she clarified, pointing to the spot below her eye.
“He has a boot-shaped bruise on his upper leg and lower abdomen, but thankfully they missed his groin. He has multiple bruises on his torso and legs and a few minor lacerations to his face. The one on his cheek needed a stitch to close it.”
I choked out another sob and held my head as the headache that had been building all day ground into my brain.
“Were you hurt, Mrs. Minns?”
“No. They stopped hitting and kicking him as soon as I managed to get to him.”
She patted my hand and gave me a sympathetic smile. “You were very brave to step in and try to stop the fight.”
I shook my head, my raspy voice emphatic when I shot back, “There was no fight. He was beaten black-and-blue by his father and brothers. He didn’t provoke them.
He didn’t throw a single punch. He didn’t even raise his voice.
” I sucked back a breath and dashed my tears away, my hands shaking and my head pounding.
“All he did was tell them he’s bi. They lost it.
They hit him and kicked him until his bones broke in the name of their fucked-up god.
Chris didn’t even lift a finger to defend himself.
He didn’t deserve this. This wasn’t some drunken fight. ”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Minns.” She shook her head, her eyes filled with pity. “I can take you back to see him now.”
“Please.”
I walked down the linoleum corridor with the doctor, and my breath caught when I saw Chris lying on white sheets, a blue striped blanket covering him and his head resting on a pillow.
He was facing away from me, but I could see the bruises forming on his jaw.
I choked out another sob, and he turned his face slowly.
He held out his hand to me, and I moved woodenly toward him. Every muscle in my body ached, exhaustion and heartbreak draining my energy levels to zero. I wanted to curl up on the bed with him and sleep, but I didn’t dare.
“Baby, I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he murmured.
“Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?” I curled my hands around his, unsure whether I would hurt him if I touched him anywhere else.
“A cuddle,” he responded, holding his arm out wide.
I laugh-sobbed and pressed a kiss to his forehead before I half stood, half laid across his bed and rested my head on his shoulder, barely touching him.
“You don’t ever need to apologize for what those monsters did to you,” I whispered. “I’m going to make them pay, hon.”
“I just want to go home,” he mumbled. “Back to San Diego. I never want to see them again.”
“We’re going to be here for another few days. They’re keeping you for observation in case there are complications with the fractures. But then we’re leaving, and we’re never coming back.”
“I wanted to talk to V.”
“You will. Rest, hon.”
He closed his eyes, and turned his face away, pressing it back onto what I realized was an ice pack. His breathing slowed and deepened as I watched Chris quickly fall asleep.
My cell phone buzzed in my bag, and I tiptoed over to answer it. When I saw it was Dad, I almost rejected the call, but something inside me made me take the call.
“This had better not be you talking me out of staying with Chris,” I warned in a whisper as I walked outside the room.
“No, Kam, I’d never do that. I just wanted to check on the two of you. How is he?”
“Beaten and bruised. A few cracked bones, some cuts and bruises that needed tending to.” I rubbed my forehead, my headache accompanied by a serving of starburst lights in my line of vision.
“My God,” he murmured. “And you? Are you okay?”
I leaned against the doorframe and looked up at the tiled ceiling. “Apart from seeing them hurt him every time I close my eyes, yeah. I’m fine.”
“I’m at the police station about to give my statement. Can I come by and check on you two after we wrap up here?”
“Not this afternoon, Dad. I’m exhausted, and Chris just fell asleep.”
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then. Do you need anything? I can drop off whatever you need.”
“I’ll be okay, and they’re looking after Chris.”
“Okay, Kam. Call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
I slipped back into the room as quietly as I could, pulled a chair closer to Chris’s bed, rested my arms on the mattress next to him, and laid my head down. But every time I did, I saw the same vision—his dad punching him, his brothers hitting him, kicking, and stomping on him.
Nothing justified their actions.
Nothing.
I would never forgive them for what they did to him.
Tears of relief mixed with anger, frustration, powerlessness, and heartbreak fell, wetting the sheet beneath my cheek.
Everything that happened today were my worst fears come true.
We were blessed given Chris’s only injuries were fractures, but with two words—“I’m bisexual”—he’d lost his entire family.
They’d assaulted him, laying their hands on him in anger and disgust.
But I was so damn proud of how Chris had handled himself.
His nieces and nephews would remember what their fathers and grandfather did to their uncle, even if they didn’t understand why.
They’d remember he didn’t react in anger or with hatred.
He tried to talk to them. He’d acted like the good Christian here, not them.
I just wish he’d used some of the aggression he had on the ice.
Fuck, the ice. He was due to go on a road trip with the team in less than two days’ time. It was only a short one—San Francisco for a few days—but there was no way he’d be fit to play.
***
I startled when I heard the door click closed. I blinked my eyes open, but what I was seeing wasn’t quite right. Locke was standing there in front of me, shivering. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms, and a full-body shudder wracked him again.
His gaze ping-ponged between Chris and me. His hair was a mess, like he’d run his hands through it and tugged on it for hours. He had dark circles under his eyes, and he was wearing what looked like a set of white pajamas under a long trench coat.
A black trench coat. One that was very familiar.
He tentatively stepped closer and bit his lip, then slid his hands into his pockets.
He didn’t say anything at first, but he didn’t need to.
Everything clicked into place. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it earlier.
There were so many signs that pointed to him.
He was on the island with us, karate, his donation…
. But the accent he’d put on had completely thrown me off.
I stood up and slipped my arms around him, holding him tight.
He was freezing. I reached back, snatching the blanket that had fallen off my shoulders, and wrapped it around his, then pulled him close again.
My tears were cried out, but I released a shuddery breath and choked up anyway.
He didn’t hesitate, enveloping me in a hug that healed every one of the pieces of my shattered soul.
He kissed my hair and held me tighter, rocking me slowly as I sank into those safe arms that I’d needed more than ever.
Locke drew me to the bed and sat down. He pulled me between his legs and wrapped his arm around my waist. I buried my face in his shoulder and breathed him in while Locke reached for Chris’s hand, grasping it gently.
“Hey,” Chris croaked. I pulled back to look at him, and he blinked a couple of times, then winced. “What are you doing here?”
“Kam called me,” Locke explained. Chris blinked slowly, his eyes glassy from the painkiller-laced sleep he was coming out of. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak but groaned in pain instead.
"I called V," I clarified for Chris. The confusion began to lift as the gears in Chris’s brain began to tick over and understanding dawned.
Locke nodded. "You did. If you hadn't guessed already, I’m....” He shook his head, and the utter devastation written on his features gutted me. “I'm sorry for the deception—the accent, telling you I live in Phoenix—"
"Why? How?" I asked, my own brain not quite functioning yet.