Chapter 19
This has been the longest fucking day. And it really wasn’t all that long, it’s just that I’m used to being up all night and sleeping all day, not the other way around.
Asher was staying late at the shop and then said he was going to, and I quote, “Call up one of the girls in my phone and hope for the best.”
That guy… But at least he’ll be gone for the night and Roxie and I will have the whole apartment to ourselves.
It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I left her hours ago. Getting her completely alone and taking my time with her.
I park the bike, cut the engine and kick off, running into the building. But the moment I step inside the stairwell, something immediately feels off.
Roxie.
I sprint up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and barging into the apartment.
Oh my god.
My breath catches and horror fills me as I take in the apartment.
Everything is trashed. Whoever did this was insistent on making the biggest fucking mess.
The couch cushions are slashed and thrown, stuffing’s everywhere.
The bookshelf next to the TV is broken and the few knick-knacks we had are destroyed.
My eyes take in the damage, but my brain only has one thought.
Roxie.
“Roxie?” I call out, running through the small space and taking in all the damage.
There’s a slash mark through the wall, blood on the floor, a big ass bloody handprint dragging down the wall.
My heartrate picks up and imagines of Roxie fill my mind.
“Baby, where are you?!” I scream out, and dart into the kitchen.
Laying there, completely still, is Roxie. I drop to my knees, trying to catalog all the injuries I can see. Her chest is rising, so she’s alive, but there’s a lot of blood. A lot of blood.
“Dios mio,” I whisper, cradling her bruised and bloody face with my hands gently. “Roxie?”
Her eyes flutter open; one eye has a burst capillary so the white of her eye is all red, while the other is already swelling. She makes a noise that’s closer to a whine than a groan, and I can hear something rattling in her chest.
That’s really, really not good.
“Roxie, what happened?” I say softly as my hands move quickly along the back of her head, her neck, her spine. I’m trying to make sure she’s safe to move. I need to get her out of here. I need to call Asher and make sure he knows.
“Mickey,” she groans, and she tries to sit up, but winces.
Fucking Mickey motherfucker. At her words, a fire-hot anger rushes through my veins but it’s mixed with guilt as well because this…this is on me. I caused this.
“Help me,” she whispers, holding up one of her hands that’s most definitely broken, and I lean down to pick her up.
One arm under her knees, one under her back and I lift her easily.
I walk back into the living room, kicking the door closed loudly, before rushing to my room and setting her on the bed as gently as I possibly can.
My room’s untouched. He really only came for her.
“Where else are you hurt?” She’s still wearing just my shirt, so I can see the bruised handprints along her thighs and that fire in my veins turns to ice. “Did he touch you?”
“No,” she croaks out hoarsely. “I stabbed him in the hand before he could.”
“Good girl,” I say softly, swallowing a lump in my throat. “Who was it? Mickey?”
“His goon. Cory.”
Cory. Count your days, motherfucker.
“Where are you hurt?” I ask again, and she lifts her hands gently, trying to have me help her take her shirt off.
When I slide it over her head, I see. There’s a long gash along her chest, the dark shirt was hiding it.
The blood’s dried, but it’s from armpit to armpit.
It doesn’t look like it’s deep, but it’s going to hurt for days.
I take a deep breath, and push myself up to get the first-aid kit.
“Don’t leave!” she cries out, grabbing my hand quickly. The terror in her voice breaks my heart. My expression softens in an instant and I cover her hand with mine.
“I’m not, I promise. I’m going to go get the first-aid kit though. I need to clean these and splint your fingers,” I say, gesturing with my head to her other hand. “I’m not leaving you again. I swear it.”
Roxie blinks slowly, swallowing hard before nodding once. She’s putting on a brave face and I fucking hate that she feels like she has to.
“I’ll be right back,” I promise. Running to the other side of the room, pulling out the meager first-aid kit I keep at my desk before going back to her side as fast I can and I grab the supplies I need.
Wetting a cotton swab with rubbing alcohol, I turn to face her.
“This might sting.”
“You and I both know it’s going to. Just get on with it,” Roxie says quietly, bracing herself for the bite of the antiseptic. I start with her hands, gently wiping away the blood there and focusing on the torn skin. “Goddamn it, fuck,” she hisses.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper over and over, every time she’s in pain. Like the more I say the words the more I’d be able to take her pain from her into my own body.
I wish that’s how it worked.
I keep moving, gently cleaning the gash on her chest so I can see if I need to get Asher to stitch her up. I don’t think I could stomach stitching her up myself when she’s already in this much pain. She clenches her teeth and her eyes screw shut.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat.
“Stop saying that.” And that makes my mouth snap shut.
“I don’t think you need stitches. It looks shallow, like you were able to get away.” I try to keep the heat out of my tone because I don’t want her to think I’m angry with her. Never at her. Forever at him.
“He’s a big fucker, but I got some good hits in. He definitely won’t look the same after I slashed his face.”
Holy hell.
“You what?”
“I got’em good, Daddy,” she says faintly, a small smile on her lips. “I made sure that if he was going to hurt me, he’d remember who he messed with.”
“That’s my girl.” I can’t help the pride I feel. Roxie’s smart, quick, strong. She did what she could with what she had and protected herself when I should’ve protected her. The smile drops as the tension leaves her body and she melts into the mattress, eyes closing and her breath evening out.
“Roxie?” I say gently. “Baby?”
When she doesn’t answer immediately, terror fills my entire body. I put my fingers to the already bruising flesh on her neck to check her pulse. It’s there, thank fuck. Strong and steady.
She already has a mild concussion, this probably pushed her into dangerous territory.
I need to call Ashe. He knows this stuff better than I do.
I pull my phone out, dial his number, set it to speaker and get back to cleaning her injuries.
She’s going to have wicked bruising, but none of it seems life threatening…
The fact that she fell asleep again? That could mean that her brain is trying to recover.
It could mean that she’s simply overwhelmed and her body is shutting down to protect herself and she knows she’s safe with me.
“Yeah, man, what’s up?” Asher’s voice comes through the phone speaker loudly and I almost worry that it’s going to wake Roxie up, but she doesn’t even tremor.
“Come home, now. Please.”
“I’m just closing up, what’s wrong?” Asher asks, “I was going to meet up with Blonde Britney.”
“Someone broke in. Trashed the place. Hurt Roxie.” I know I should give him more details, but I’m too focused on her. “I’m cleaning her up now, but I’m worried.”
“I’ll be there in five.” Asher hangs up the phone quickly, and his complete switch in tone makes me feel better. Like he knows exactly how dire this is.
Standing up, I move to cover her up with the sheet as gently as I can not to jostle her. Slipping the sheet around her chest, covering her breasts, but keeping the gash out for Asher to double-check that it doesn’t need stitches, I move to her hand and start splinting it.
We really should go to the hospital, but I remember how much she didn’t want me to take her there after the fight.
I’ve broken my fingers before so I have my old splint in the kit for times like this.
Her middle finger is dark purple, like the asshole twisted it to get her to move somewhere, and her ring finger isn’t quite as bad, but it’s definitely going to hurt.
Grabbing the athletic tape, I start wrapping them together in the splint so she won’t bend them.
I hear boots thudding through the house and I turn around quickly, preparing for a fight, putting myself between whatever’s coming and Roxie.
“Ty?” Asher says and my spine relaxes.
“We’re in my room. Did you lock the door?” I call back, turning back towards Roxie just as he enters the room.
“Yeah, I…” But the rest of the sentence dies on his tongue as he sees Roxie. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah.”
Asher comes to the other side of the bed and stands over her, his eyes trailing over her covered body quickly before returning to her face.
“Was this Mickey?” he growls, his hands curling into fists in anger.
“She said it was Cory, one of Mickey’s goons. But the order came from Mickey, for sure.”
“Did he…” Asher gestures to Roxie’s state of undress, his expression turns to stone. My head shakes no.
“She fought him off.”
“Of course she did,” Asher says softly, nodding. “That’s Roxie.”
“I cleaned most of the cuts, splinted her fingers, one of her eyes has a burst capillary, and then there’s this cut across her chest. It doesn’t need stitches, right?” I walk him through her injuries, but I haven’t even started to see if she broke any bones, other than her fingers.
“No, it doesn’t look deep. Ribs?” he asks and I shake my head slightly. I know her ribs were still tender and I’m sure Cory cracked them more.
“Has she been out long?” Asher steps into healing mode, getting all the information as he gently prods the cut on her chest.
“Five minutes, maybe. She was passed out in the kitchen when I got here, but woke up when I started talking to her. I made sure there wasn’t anything broken in her neck or spine before I moved her.”
“Good thinking,” he says, picking up her hand to inspect the bracing job I did. “Nice.”
“I’ve broken a few fingers.”
“I’m well aware.”
It’s quiet for a moment while he gently looks over all the bruising and then starts to feel along her ribs over the sheet.
Over the sheet, Ty, rein it in, I try to tell myself to calm down, but I don’t like anyone touching her but me. I take a deep breath to try and calm down, but he’s touching her…
“She’s like a sister to me, calm your shit,” Asher says without looking up.
“Yeah, okay. I’m sorry,” I mutter in Spanish. He knows what I mean by the tone of my voice, and I run my hand nervously through my hair as I watch him fix her.
“Her third rib is definitely broken. It doesn’t feel like it’s floating though, so she’s lucky as fuck that it didn’t puncture anything.
” As he talks, I drop to my knees, elbows on the edge of the bed and I hold my hands under my chin while I watch her.
His hands move to the other side, and the tortuous process of watching him touch her so methodically starts again.
“Oh shit,” he says softly and I immediately sit up straighter.
“What?”
“Two ribs on this side are cracked, one in two places that I can feel. The fucker must have stomped on her after kicking her.” My fingers grip the blanket tightly as the anger fills me.
“I need you to go get a chest binder of some kind. A big-ass ace bandage we can wrap around her chest, something like that.”
“I’ll stay here, you go.” I throw the words out there, never looking away from her. “But what about her head?”
Asher moves from her sides to focus on her head, slipping his fingers all around her neck, back of her head and up around the top.
“What are you doing?” I ask after a few minutes of watching him gently caress my girl.
“I’m checking to see if there’s any swelling, broken spots, anything like that,” he says, and lightly moves her hair out of her face. My jaw clenches but I don’t say anything. “There’s some swelling on the side of her head, we need to watch her carefully for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Obviously,” I say automatically because after this, she’ll be lucky to take a piss alone.
“No, I mean, we will need to wake her up every two hours or so and make sure she can answer basic questions, no screens, no TV, dim lighting, quiet sounds. She was recovering from a concussion and then got hurt like this? It could be fatal if we don’t treat her gently.”
As he talks my heart clenches, fear overtakes my mind as I’m suddenly thrown into agony at how she might not wake up from this.
“She was talking completely fine earlier, maybe a little slurred, but nothing horrible.” I don’t know who I’m trying to convince that everything’s going to be okay. Him or me. Maybe us both.
“I’m going to go get the binder. You think she’ll be okay to take our pain meds or should I buy another bottle?”
“I think she’ll be okay, but buy a new one just in case. I know cash is tight, but…”
“No, I get it. This is important.” My chest tightens with gratitude and I know I’m so fucking lucky to have a best friend like him. Asher stands up fully, holding his hand out, “But I’ll have to borrow the bike.”
“Here,” I toss the keys to him. “Don’t wreck.”
“I’ll be back as quick as I can. If she wakes up before I get back; water, don’t move her, pain meds, ice,” he lists things off and I nod.
“Got it.”
Asher nods, turning to leave, but as soon as he gets to the door he stops, turning back to look at me and snarls, “He’ll pay for this.”
I don’t look at him, instead turn my attention fully to Roxie, holding her hand in mine gently.
“Yeah he will,” I say softly. “With his blood.”