9. Leila
9
LEILA
Pain unlike any I’ve ever felt pounds in my head. The skin on my forehead feels tight, and the area above my left eye hurts. Speaking of, my eyes feel like they’re being jabbed with red-hot pokers. Even my teeth ache in solidarity. My mouth is dry as a desert, and nausea roils in my belly.
I can’t remember ever being this miserable.
Why can’t I open my eyes? They’re so damn heavy. And what the hell is that godawful smell? Antiseptic? With what feels like superhuman effort, I finally manage to pry my lids apart. The brightness of the room has a fresh wave of excruciating pain hammering me. The nausea intensifies.
I’m going to be sick, and all I can do is just lie there. Calling out for help, I pray it won’t be long in coming.
“Ms. Asherton?” I hear a soft voice call my name.
“Yeah?”
“Ms. Asherton, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can hear you.”
“I’m sorry, lovely, you need to speak up. I can’t hear you. Do you need help?”
“Gonna be sick.”
“Sorry? You’re going to be sick?”
What the hell is this? A bizarre game of Broken Telephone?
“Yes,” I say a little louder.
“Up you come then. We don’t want you accidentally choking.” I feel hands slide in under both my arms. “Slowly does it.”
Oh my God. I’ve heard the expression about heads exploding, but this is the first time I’ve ever actually experienced it myself. If it doesn’t explode, at the very least, it’s going to drop off my shoulders and roll across the floor. Stars dance behind my eyelids, and my stomach rebels. Where the hell is my kidney bowl?
“That’s it. Just rest your weight on us; we’ve got you. Here you go.”
I feel the cold of a metal bowl being pushed into my palms before warm hands wrap around mine. I can’t hold it back anymore and am more violently ill than I have ever been in my entire life. Even the night Kyle left me, and I got so blind drunk I thought I might die from alcohol poisoning.
The more I retch, the more my head protests. The more my head protests, the more I’m sick. Just kill me now. It’ll be a great mercy, and I’d be ever so grateful. Finally, I run out of steam, and when there’s nothing left, those gentle hands lower me back to the bed, ever so carefully, but don’t let go.
“I’ll go call Doctor and let him know you’re awake.”
I almost nod but think better of it and catch myself in time. “Thank you,” I whisper instead.
I hear the nurse leave, and it takes me a moment to realize that those warm hands are still holding mine. I’m terrified of opening my eyes again but also freaked out by the unknown hands – a thumb now gently rubbing over my inner wrist. It also suddenly occurs to me that the nurse said “us,” but I’ve only heard one voice. Hers.
On that thought, my eyes pop open of their own accord and crash into the concerned gaze of none other than Kyle himself. I haven’t seen the man in five years. Now I see him at every turn.
“Hey.” His tone gentle, face soft, it hurts more than the pain currently ricocheting around my skull.
I slam my eyes shut. Not only does my head hurt, but now my heart hurts too. Why couldn’t this man just stay gone? Of all the SEAL teams, why did they have to send his in to save the ship? Why ? What have I done to piss the gods off so badly that I’m being punished like this?
“Why are you here, Kyle?” is all I manage to whisper before I feel hot tears drip down the sides of my face and onto my neck.
“Shit. Sweetness, don’t cry. Please?” I can feel him peppering tiny kisses on my hand closest to him. He never did like it when I cried.
Hearing him call me sweetness in that tortured tone has my heart squeezing tight. And now that they’ve started, I can’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. Those little kisses aren’t helping any, either. God, I’ve missed this man like an essential limb.
Despite being a manly man, his size and macho appearance, Kyle isn’t afraid of public displays of affection. He loved to hug and kiss, and didn’t care who saw. He wanted everyone to know we were together. The kind of boyfriend women dream of.
But he’s not mine anymore. He made that abundantly clear the day he left me in his rearview mirror, without so much as a backward glance. Yet here he is, ripping that barely covered-over wound on my heart wide open, leaving it bloody and vulnerable. In my current state, it’s too much to deal with. And so, the tears keep coming.
I try to tug my hands out of his, but he’s not having any of it. He merely tightens his grip. Not so much that he’s hurting me, yet enough for me to understand he’s not letting go. I’m torn between feeling cherished and wanting to scream at him to let go and get the fuck out of my room. Out of my life. To undo the hurt he did, then leave me the fuck alone.
Just then, I hear the door and the nurse asks, “Everything okay here?”
I hiccup and nod. Kyle doesn’t say a word. Simply continues that tender, mesmerizing rubbing. This time on my arm.
“I’m glad to see you’re awake, Ms. Asherton. We were a little concerned at how long you were unconscious — the doctor who attended to you onboard expressed his concern over the issue too,” I hear an unfamiliar male voice say. I’m guessing this is the doctor. “Let’s have a look and see where we’re at. If you can open your eyes for me, please.”
Mentally sighing, I brace and once again pry my eyes open. Only to wince in pain when he shines a small flashlight into them. Fuck, that smarts. I try to keep still but can’t help eventually turning my head to escape the bright beam.
“Pupils are responding nicely; I’m happy with that. All the tests and scans have come back clean too, so I’m certain that we’re dealing with nothing more sinister than a nasty concussion,” he continues.
“You’re extremely lucky. From what I’ve been told you took two severe blows to the head in a row. To err on the side of caution, I’m going to keep you overnight for a little more observation. If all is still looking good in the morning, you can go home.”
That thought alone makes me happy. It feels like I left home a lifetime ago. But then my heart sinks again when he says, “That is, if you have someone at home to take care of you. It would be irresponsible of me to release you with no one to watch over you. A relapse isn’t outside the realm of possibility, and the last thing we need is for you to hit your head again. It could cause untold complications.”
Before I can say a word, Kyle answers the doctor. “That won’t be a problem, doc. I’ll be there to take care of her.”
Oh, uh-uh. No. Nope. Not going to happen. I’d rather stay here.
“Excellent. Nurse Collins here will tell you what to watch for and what to do,” the doctor says. “I’ll pop in again later to check in on you.”
With that, he’s gone.
“You need something for pain, Ms. Asherton?” the nurse enquires.
“Yes, please,” I reply with zero hesitation. The little men with percussion instruments in my head are playing a healthy rendition of some kind of heavy metal. Heavy on the metal.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watch her leave before carefully turning my head toward Kyle.
“You can’t take care of me.”
“Sweetness, this isn’t up for debate. It’s either that or staying here. I’ve got some downtime, so it’s all good.”
“No, Kyle, it’s not all good –”
“Seriously, sweetness, I’m not getting into this with you. You heard the doc; you can’t go home otherwise.”
“Then I’d rather just stay here. And for the love of God, please stop calling me sweetness.” It’s a struggle not to shout the words, but the pounding in my head prevents me from yelling. I open my mouth to say more but am interrupted.
“I’m sure you must be in serious need of a little pain relief by now.” The nurse comes bustling back into my room, a syringe and a plastic cup with pills in hand.
She puts the syringe on the bedside table, hands me the small cup, then water. When I’ve swallowed those down, she urges me onto my side, sliding the injection into a butt cheek with expert precision. Once I’m settled again, she makes sure I’m as comfortable as possible before taking her leave with a kind smile and a cheery, “Just ring your bell if you need me.”
I can already feel the pain meds taking effect. Much as I welcome the relief, I’m not ready. There’s so much more I want to say to Kyle. Before I know it though, I’m slipping into the blissful, comforting embrace of sleep, the words dying unspoken on my tongue.
Sometime later, tongue thick and mind fuzzy, I simply lay there listening to the sounds beyond the door of my room. I know I’m being a spineless ninny, but I can’t bring myself to open my eyes. Because then I’ll have to deal with Kyle again. I know this because he hasn’t left. And I know this because my hand is, warm and snug, firmly cocooned in his.
My mind and my heart are at war over that. My heart loves the feel of his skin against mine, remembering how it feels to have those hands roam freely over my naked body. My mind, on the other hand, is fit to be tied. After everything I went through when Kyle broke things off, all I want to do is beat him about the head with our clasped hands.
How the fuck did I find myself here? How did a pleasure cruise I’d been looking forward to for months turn into a complete shitshow? Yeah, I must’ve pissed God off royally that he’s punishing me like this.
“Swee — Leila, you need anything? A drink of water?” The man is killing me.
I squeeze my eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears. I refuse to give him my tears. The asshat doesn’t deserve even one more.
“Leila?” When I still say nothing, I hear him sigh. “I know you’re awake. But if you’re not ready to open those pretty eyes of yours, that’s fine.”
Kyle says nothing more, just continues to gently rub his thumb over my skin. Too tired to fight the feelings rioting through me, I focus on the soothing motion, allowing myself to glory in the sensation until it’s time to lock it away in the “Kyle vault.”
The next time I become aware, I hear men’s voices talking quietly. I can’t hear what they’re saying, nor can I identify them, and I’m catapulted back to the ship. My heart pounds, and my muscles tense, ready to flee.
“You’re okay, sweetness. I’m here. You’re safe.” And just like so many times in the past, Kyle’s there to soothe my fears. But I know he won’t stay, and my heart will break all over again. This time, no matter how tight I squeeze my eyes shut, I can’t prevent tears from leaking out.
I don’t know if I’m strong enough to recover from Kyle a second time. On that painful thought, I give myself over to sleep once more.