Eleven
T his wasn’t what I’d planned for when I went back to my room. If she’d stayed, I imagined me touching her again, pressing her down on my bed, so I could kiss every inch of her. I wanted her squirming beneath me. It wasn’t going to happen now. Fuck my shoulder.
“What happened, Ice?” She’d not only helped me take pills, but now she’d made us a damn instant coffee, and was sitting with me on the sofa, like she wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.
Hell, it had to come out sometime, but at least she wasn’t a club member. She couldn’t tell Reacher.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“Ice, you’re starting to scare me. What happened?”
I flinched as another spasm tore across the top of my shoulder, and neck. I closed my eyes, fighting the urge to curse with the pain.
“The thing you need to know about club life, is that there’s one rule that is non-negotiable. It’s a do or leave kinda thing.”
She frowned, trying to turn in her seat beside me, that long narrow skirt getting in the way. I wanted to tell her to hitch it up, and show me some leg. I wanted her to take it off, but I knew, with the pain, that there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, even if she was into me.
“Ice, breathe through the pain.” I snorted, shaking my head.
“Trust me, darlin’. Not my first fucking time.” Breathing did help, but then when the spasms started, there was nothing I could do but wait them out. The painkillers didn’t even fucking touch it, didn’t stop the spasms, or the pain, but for some reason they numbed everything else, and lifted me out of myself enough that I could cope. Survive.
“ You have to be able to ride . It’s the one rule in every club. You gotta be able to ride a fucking motorbike. You can’t ride, you’re out. You get sick or injured, and you can’t ride, tough titty. It’s all over.”
She frowned. “That seems harsh.”
“Yeah. A few years ago, I’d have disagreed with you. I’d have said it’s fucking vital we can ride. Said that any loser who can’t ride doesn’t deserve to be in a fucking club, but now I’m that fucking loser .”
Her hand rested on my knee, and damn, her heat seeping into me was everything. In that moment it was comfort, and safety, and respect, and being seen. Being understood.
“Couple of years back, I came off my bike, but it wasn’t that bad, you know. Landed badly on my side, but the bike, that was all I cared about. Surface damage. I was so lucky. You come off wrong, and the bike can be fucked. I laughed it off, as we do, and I got her home, and started working on making her perfect again. I hurt, of course I did, but it wasn’t unbearable. Didn’t see a doc or anything.”
She squeezed my knee lightly. I found myself focusing every ounce of my attention on her hand, to try and distance myself from the waves of pain in my shoulder and arm.
“Did you see a doctor later?”
I nodded. Of course I fucking did, but by then maybe it was already too late.
“Yeah… there’s this thing doctors do, when they don’t have a fucking clue what your injury is. They do scans, and x-rays, and physio, and then they give it a dumb label, like they’ve figured it out. Truth is, my shoulder is likely permanently damaged, and there’s nerve damage, and I get these… hellish spasms of pain that radiate across my shoulder, up into my neck, and down my arm, and even across part of my chest. It’s all related to that injury, but you… you know what they call it? Biker’s Arm. Yeah… apparently we’re prone to dropping bikes on ourselves, or landing badly when we crash, and they just give it this stupid childish name, which means they don’t give a fuck, and they don’t know how to fix it.”
She looked horrified, squeezing my knee again. I marvelled at the fact that I could feel that over the agonising clenching in my shoulder and neck.
“Jesus.” I tried tipping my head back, but it caused an additional twinge of pain, and I didn’t need any more fucking pain.
“Are you better off lying down?” I glanced at Lissa, seeing the worry on her face.
“Probably, but I’m here now. Can you maybe just stick another cushion behind my head, please? I have to wait it out.”
She wedged a cushion behind my head, and I sagged against it, relaxing my neck and shoulders with a hiss of pain.
“How long does it last?”
I clenched my other fist. “If I’m lucky, twenty minutes or so.”
She reached up, pressing her hand against the side of my face. Wow, her touch was soothing, and arousing all at once.
“And if you’re not?”
I fucking hoped I’d have luck on my side this time.
“Forty five minutes, maybe an hour.”
“Of spasms?”
“Yeah.”
Lissa
N o wonder he had resorted to other methods of numbing his nerves and senses. No fucking wonder. He didn’t often verbalise the pain he was in, but I could see him flinch now and then, his forehead creasing up, presumably when another spasm tore through his shoulder. I wished I could do something to help him.
“The painkillers don’t even work, do they?”
He sighed. “Mostly they just numb it a little. The spasms won’t stop until they’re done.”
“Did something cause this? I’ve never seen you like this before.”
He smirked briefly. “Tried to punch Has-Been. Sudden movements are not my friend, and this is my punishment for wanting to punch his lights out.”
“What did he do?”
“ You know what . He was mouthing off about you being up here. In fact, I’m really surprised Reacher hasn’t been in, to make sure we’re not up to anything untoward.”
I stared warily at the door.
“This would be a bad time for him to come in though, right, because he doesn’t know about your pain.”
“Exactly, Doc. That’s why you get paid the big bucks… because you’re smart.” He cursed and flinched again, and I reached for his hand, the one not gripping his shoulder. He let me take his hand, squeezing my fingers lightly.
“Sorry, I can be a dick… well, most of the time.”
I rubbed my thumb over his hand, watching as he squeezed his eyes shut against another barrage of pain.
“The drugs you used to take… the stuff you’re trying to stay away from now… what were they?”
He took a breath. “Cocaine, mostly. I dabbled with a few other things, but cocaine and ecstasy were the ones that distracted me the most. Why?”
“I’m your rehab therapist. I’m supposed to talk to you about that stuff.”
He snorted, giving me the side-eye.
“Rather than getting all hot and bothered, when I’m too close to you?”
Wow, he just went right in for the kill.
“Yeah, Ice… despite your name, you made me hot. Are you happy?”
He winced again. “Yeah. Fucking ecstatic, or at least I will be once this is over.”
He caught my frown, and shook his head slightly.
“The pain, not my time with you. Although this is the longest session you’ve probably ever had with an addict, right?”
“Ice, I don’t know what the hell this is anymore, but I’m not leaving you in pain like this. Would… would massage help it? Or, I don’t know… muscle sprays or rubs?”
He stared down at my hand in his.
“While I’d fucking love these delicate hands on me, Lissa, I have to say, touching it right now would be bad. And I can’t rub anything into it, because I might trigger another bout of this shit. And sprays? I think you’re not supposed to use them near your face or neck. Now, admittedly, I’m a stubborn bastard, and a biker, and a man, so I’m surprised I didn’t try it anyway, but I figured I was miserable enough already.”
I smiled, because it seemed to be the right response, but inside I was hurting for him. Wishing I could help. Wishing I could fix him.
“Doc, don’t look so sad. It’s easing, I think. I’ll be fine.”