Chapter 30 Tigerlily
Chapter Thirty: Tigerlily
My body feels heavy.
Like I’m underwater. Like gravity has doubled and I’m pinned to this bed by the weight of my own skin.
I’m incapable of moving a muscle. My eyelids feel glued shut. I hear noises—beeping, footsteps, voices muffled and distant—but I can’t distinguish what they are or where they’re coming from.
I lift my fingers. Or I think I do. I can’t tell if they actually move or if I just imagine them moving.
Is anyone here?
The thought of seeing a familiar face gives me the strength I need to lift my eyelids. One eye opens slowly. Bright light floods in. It burns. I squeeze it shut again.
Then I try again, and this time I expect the burn. I force myself to adjust.
I need to see if anyone is here.
I blink and open both eyes. The room is empty.
White walls. White ceiling. Machines beeping. An IV pole next to my bed.
No one’s here.
My arm throbs with pain. My shoulders feel tight like someone’s been pressing down on them for hours. My head aches. But it’s the loneliness that wins. That feels the worst.
A tear slides down my face.
I can’t wipe it away. I can’t move my hands. I’m too lethargic. Too weak.
“Nurse,” I try to say.
My throat burns. All that comes out is a squeak.
A nurse walks in and smiles. “Hi.”
I cry harder.
“How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I try to say, but it doesn’t sound like a word. Just a rasp.
“You have three visitors, but only two can come in at a time. Would you like to see them?”
My chest loosens. Relief floods through me so fast it makes my head spin.
I nod. It hurts my neck. More tears fall because they’re here. They came.
The nurse takes my vitals, wraps the blood pressure cuff around my good arm, and checks my temperature. She asks my pain level on a scale of one to ten.
I hold up eight fingers.
She prescribes more medicine, adjusts something on the IV, then she leaves.
The anticipation makes the next two minutes feel like an hour. Every second stretches. Intensifying the pain.
Then the door opens.
Jax walks in first.
His face is swollen like a pillow. One eye is nearly shut. His lip is split. But the sight of him makes my heart stutter.
He’s alive.
Zephyr walks in behind him. Less beaten but still bruised with a scratch down his cheek.
I’m so relieved I can barely breathe.
“Zinni?” I ask. My voice cracks on her name.
The tears are back, sad this time when she doesn’t round the corner.
“Zinnia’s with CPS,” Zephyr says gently.
I look up at the ceiling and cry.
Then I hear commotion in the hall.
“Fuck that. She almost died!”
Zephyr smiles despite everything. “Here comes Cal.”
Callum storms in. His face is bruised too—cheek swollen, eye blackened. I don’t recall a moment when he was beaten. When did that happen?
“Tiger,” he says.
The sound of his voice makes my chest constrict, makes everything hurt worse and better at the same time.
He walks over and kisses me gently on the lips. So soft I barely feel it.
I see his bruised cheek up close and wonder what happened to him. When. Where.
“Cal,” I try to say, but nothing comes out.
“Shh,” he whispers. “Don’t talk.”
The nurse appears at the door. “Only two at a time.”
“She almost died,” Jax says flatly.
“We all need a second,” Zephyr adds.
The nurse looks at all three of them. At me. Then she just walks away without another word.
I’m relieved.
Callum turns back to me and kisses me again. Longer this time.
I notice Jax and Zephyr in the back watching. Not jealous. Just waiting.
Jax comes to my other side. He wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumb.
Zephyr grabs my hand. The one without the IV.
“I wish I could kiss you,” Zephyr says quietly.
Jax looks at him. Then at Callum. When his eyes find mine, he asks, “May I?”
The air doesn’t reach my lungs as a tear slips out. I try my best to nod.
Jax leans down and presses his lips to mine. So sweet. So careful.
I squeeze Zephyr’s hand.
Zephyr pushes Callum out of the way gently and leans down. First, he kisses my forehead, then he looks deep into my eyes. I’ll never forget the moments right before the darkness really hit. All I saw was his face, those brown eyes. I think I really like him.
I try to nod when he asks for permission.
He kisses me, and the pleasure immediately makes my body jolt. Pain shoots through my chest and arm. I wince.
Zephyr freezes. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
I squeeze his hand again to tell him it’s okay.
He kisses me. Soft. Lingering. When he pulls back, he wipes the tear that just fell from my eye.
“We thought we lost you,” he whispers.
I squeeze his hand again and look into his brown eyes. They fill with water as he looks back at me.
“I’m so happy you’re okay, Tiger.”
He kisses me one more time. Then steps away to wipe his face.
Callum leans down and kisses my cheek. “Looks like I’m not the only one you like.”
My eyelids flutter. I want to laugh, but I know it’ll hurt too much.
I look at all three of them standing around my bed. My chest feels lighter. My breathing comes easier.
My dad didn’t kill any of them.
My dad.
“Dad?” I rasp.
Jax and Zephyr exchange a look.
Zephyr says, “He’s going to prison for a long fucking time. You’re going to press charges, right?”
They all look at me.
More tears fall. I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m alive, because they’re alive, because they’re here, or because I just lost my family for the second time in my life.
“No,” I whisper.
Callum shoots up straight. “Tiger, you have to. To protect Zinnia.”
“He shot you,” Zephyr says.
Jax grabs my hand. “You didn’t have to take the bullet for me.” He pauses. “But thank you. And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
I exhale. My lungs burn. My chest aches with a pain I’ve never felt before. My arm is the worst of all.
Zephyr adds, “Whatever you want to do, Tiger. We’ve been looking into how to become foster parents, so we can get Zinnia.”
I look at all of them, and anxiety floods through me.
“They said it’s the only way,” Jax says. “We tried everything possible. I called this morning and they couldn’t tell me any information because I’m not family.”
I blink out more tears.
Callum kisses them away.
The nurse comes back in. “Okay, time’s up. We need to change her bandage.”
“They can stay,” I try to say. It comes out garbled.
“Hmm?” The nurse asks. Impatient now.
“Stay,” I manage.
They all look at her. She huffs and closes the door instead of kicking them out.
She washes her hands at the sink and explains everything she’s about to do with the bandage. How it might hurt. How I need to stay still.
She sits next to me and starts unwrapping the gauze carefully.
“You lost a lot of blood,” she says. “If you’re feeling lightheaded, that’s normal. But if you feel like you might faint, you need to tell us right away. Okay?”
I nod.
“We’re hydrating you with fluids. Do you think you can eat?”
She looks at me, waiting for an answer I don’t give her. My throat burns.
“We’ll try,” she decides.
When she removes the final layer of bandage, I see the bullet wound.
My skin is stapled together, bruised black and blue and purple. Swollen. Angry.
I look at the guys. They’re watching intently. It doesn’t seem to bother them.
I can’t look again.
The nurse finishes replacing the bandage, tapes it down, and washes her hands.
She looks around the room at all three of them. “If I bring food, will you feed her?”
They all agree immediately.
She eyes me like she knows something I don’t. “Okay.”
Then she leaves.
Callum says playfully, “She knows.”
He grabs my hand.
“What?” I whisper. Barely a word.
“That we’re all yours.”
Butterflies settle deep in my stomach. Despite everything. Despite the pain and the fear and the fact that my life almost ended.
They’re all mine.
What a strange feeling.
My body aches. My arm throbs. My throat burns.
But my heart feels full.