Chapter 34 Harper-Rayn
HARPER-RAYN
Stupid fucking men. Why do they always have to ruin everything?
I sit in my hospital bed, my legs crossed on the blankets as I wait for Nurse Celia to return with my discharge forms. It’s been five long days wasting away in this hospital bed, and while I’ve hated every second of it, I’ve also done everything in my power to make sure I get out of here as soon as possible.
When they told me to get up and start walking around, I all but sprang out of bed, despite the pain shooting through my body. I’ve pushed myself to my limits, desperate to heal from this shit and finally put it behind me.
The only thing that’s been getting me down is Knight. And not only because he tore my heart into shreds, but because he took it upon himself to mention what happened to his stupid brother, who in turn told my mother.
That asshole. I get why he did it though.
He didn’t want me to be alone, but is anybody ever truly alone in a hospital?
There are people everywhere. Not to mention the fact that most of them are my colleagues and peers.
My room has turned into the current lunch spot for the week, and while I’ve kinda loved getting to catch up with some of my older friends who I don’t necessarily get to see anymore, all I’ve wanted was for that space beside my bed to be taken by Knight.
Instead, it’s been my mother’s face staring back at me.
Apparently getting jumped can make a mother suddenly forget that she’s been feuding with you for the better part of a decade, and no matter how many times I tell her that she’s free to leave, her ass remains parked in that damn chair.
I let out a heavy sigh. As much as I want to see him, I can’t.
The moment he questioned me, I knew it was over.
After everything that I’ve been going through over these past few weeks, his support is what I’ve needed most, and to learn that he thinks it’s all in my head has killed me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
He broke my heart into a million shattered pieces, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at him the same.
Everything hurts, and I want to hate myself for falling for him the way I have as it only makes it harder to try and move on.
I knew it was stupid to get involved with a man like Knight.
It was only a matter of time before he swept me off my feet.
I just wish he was capable of catching me when I fell.
Goddamn it. That’s not fair. He has caught me, time and time again.
Every time I fell, he was right there to pick up the pieces.
So many nights he just held me and told me everything was going to be okay.
He’s had my back since day one, and yet, I can’t forget the pain that tore through me the second I realized he didn’t believe me, the second he dared to suggest that it was all in my head.
After everything, how could he possibly think that?
I was there, I experienced it all. I remember the agonizing pain as I pulled back the body bag to see Laith’s face staring back at me. How could he suggest that was all in my head? I have the fucking scars spelling out MINE on my ribs to prove it.
This right here is why I’ve never allowed anyone to get this close. You let them in, you let yourself become vulnerable, and all it does is open you up to hurt.
I should have trusted my gut, should have never let him get that close.
My phone chimes on my bed, and I scoop it up, finding a new text from my mother. I let out a sigh and open it.
I quickly respond before she ends up leaving.
I roll my eyes. There’s nothing wrong with my apartment, but at least she’s not on my back about my career for a change. It’s almost nice. Almost.
After dropping my phone back to my bed, I drag my hand down my face as I try to find just a semblance of composure.
I don’t know what it is about my mother, but she always manages to bring out the worst in me.
That woman could just breathe in my direction and I’d lose my mind.
Now that’s a real sickness that Knight should be worried about.
I’m busy mulling over everything Knight Slater when a familiar face pops into my room. “Your bitch-ass ready to leave yet?”
I grin at Izzy. “Almost. Just waiting for the nurse to come back with my discharge papers, and then we can get out of here.”
“Thank fuck. I love you and all, but hospitals give me the creeps. I don’t know how you spend your days down in that morgue. You realize how fucked up that is, right?”
“The morgue is my peace,” I tell her. “Well, it usually is. Not with all this stalker shit. That’s kinda fucking with my zen.”
“Ya think?” she grunts.
Izzy helps me pack up all the things she brought, including the human-sized bear that’s been taking up residence in the corner of the room—and scaring the shit out of me every damn night, thinking someone is watching me while I sleep.
The second everything is packed and ready, there’s a soft knock on the door, and not a moment later, Celia walks in with my discharge papers just as Izzy dips out.
“I’d like to say that it’s a shame to see you go, but honestly, I can’t wait to see the back of you,” Celia tells me.
“Doctors always make the worst patients.”
I suck in a gasp, feigning offense. “I’ve been nothing less than the perfect patient.”
She gives me a hard stare. “You’ve been a pain in my ass.”
I grin, but she doesn’t allow me the chance to respond.
“I trust Dr. Hart has already spoken to you about your pain medication and what’s expected of your healing journey?
I know you’re eager to get home, but I don’t want to see your ass back in here, so nothing stupid.
Play it smart. You’re still healing so no strenuous activity. ”
“I know, I know,” I say, getting back to my feet just as Izzy barrels back in with a wheelchair and her eyes lighting up like the Fourth of July.
Celia shoves the discharge papers in my face before handing me a pen. “Sign here, then you’re free to go.”
I quickly scan over the discharge form, making sure everything looks the way it’s supposed to before signing my life away.
Celia disappears, leaving me in the capable hands of my best friend.
“Get on,” she says, her grin widening as she points toward the wheelchair.
“I wanna see how fast this thing can go.”
Well, shit.
An hour later, Izzy is helping me into my bed, going the extra mile by fluffing my pillows and pulling the blankets right up to my chin, and while I’ve done nothing but rest for the past five days, I can’t help but feel tired.
The trip home took it out of me. Izzy is a great driver .
. . most of the time, but every corner and slight bump left me in agony.
She sets me up with my painkillers right beside the bed, along with my phone and a bottle of water. Then just when I think she’s done it all, she walks out into my living room and comes back dragging my entertainment unit behind her, the TV wobbling back and forth.
“There,” she says a moment later, tossing the remote onto the bed and surveying her handiwork. “That looks good.”
“Have I told you that even though you’re a thirsty hoe, I still love you?”
Izzy grins wide. “I’m gonna fuck Knight’s friends.”
I let out a heavy sigh. She hasn’t let up about it since the second they walked out of my hospital room. “Shut up and order us noodles,” I tell her. “Then let’s find you a Tinder date that’ll work those big asshats right out of your system.”
Izzy is all too happy to oblige, and forty-five minutes later, we’re snuggled in my bed, eating the best noodles Blackstone has to offer while swiping through the endless choices Tinder has to offer.
Netflix plays in the background, but I don’t think either of us has watched even a second of the show that’s on. I don’t even remember the name of it. All that matters are the faces that appear on Izzy’s phone.
She’s busily chatting away with someone when a text comes through on my phone, and as I glance down at the screen, all the laughter is sucked out of the room.
I grab my phone and show Izzy, and all she can do is scoff. “That man. I swear . . . ” she says, cutting herself off, not actually having an ending to that sentence.
I laugh, her supporting frustration warming something in my heart. She’s always had my back like that, whether we agree or not. If I’m pissed at someone, she’ll be twice as pissed at them before I’ve even explained what happened.
I know I should ignore his message, but I’m feeling petty and after having to spend five days in that damn hospital bed, covered head to toe in bruises and swelling, I can barely control myself as my thumb moves across the screen.
My phone immediately starts to ring, and my eyes bug out of my head as both Izzy and I stare at the screen.
My heart races as I gape at it. I’m more than happy to be a petty bitch over text, but I don’t think I can do it with that deep tone in my ear, calling me names that make my stomach clench with need.
“What do I do?” I panic, watching as it continues to ring, knowing that the bossy version of him is waiting for me to pick up.
“I . . . I don’t know,” she says, just as panicked.
My brain starts to short-circuit, and in a moment of pure terror, I throw the phone across the bed, only it slips right off the edge and drops to the ground.
I cringe, hoping like hell I didn’t just smash my phone.
After all, not having a working phone would really fuck with my recovery over the next few weeks.
“Really?” Izzy mutters, throwing the blankets back and retrieving the phone.
“I panicked.”
“No shit,” she says, glancing down at the phone, only to beam back at me and hold up the flawless screen like a trophy. But the moment she does, a new text comes through. “Ooop.”