Chapter Twenty-Six
Crashing Back to Reality
Roisin
I woke up with the worst case of the flu I’d ever experienced. That’s what it felt like anyhow. All of my bones hurt. I was pretty sure if I kept my eyes closed, I could isolate and identify each and every one. Even my scalp was tender in places. I closed my eyes tight, and a deep pain shot through one side of my face. I tensed hard, and realized I was holding something warm in my hand.
The unexpected sharp ache stole my breath, and my eyes flew open. The first thing I noticed was Ziggy. He was cradling my hand and lightly snoring. His head was tipped and resting at an awkward angle on the waterproof hospital chair. He looked terrible. His hair was messy, and his eyes had a darkness around them that testified to days of stress and sleep deprivation. He didn’t move his hand or show any signs of acknowledgement to my gripping at him when the pain had hit.
His concern was endearing, it made me smile despite my discomfort. My gaze settled on his neck. Poking out of the top of his shirt and vest was a hint of white bandage and tape. The smooth, pretty song of my monitors faltered a beat and then raced.
Had someone tried to slit his throat?
My brother died of a slit throat, had someone retaliated despite our marriage?
Nausea gripped me as fear and something deeper collided. The room spun as I fought my own broken mind to put my finger on it.
The door clicked open, and the noise ripped me from my panic just as Sean stepped inside. My heart did an Olympic-style flip and free fell all the way to my stomach. My vision faded to darkness and I clung to him, and consciousness with everything I had.
The monitors screamed and so did Ziggy. Sounds came and went as I sifted out of consciousness. I caught enough random words to understand that Ziggy was telling him the Deuces did this to me.
“I need everyone to leave the room,” a female voice called through the fog. “She’s still recovering from surgery.”
I’d never heard a tone like that. It wasn’t authoritative, but it was direct. In charge, no nonsense, but no excitement either. It comforted me, somehow. In my fucked-up state I guess I pictured the General of all Charge Nurses taking over for me, guarding my peace and person since I couldn’t see or speak for myself.
A sereneness came over me, and I surrendered to the additional weight of warmed blankets. The cuff on my arm hugged and buzzed, and just as I drifted off, I was sure I heard Sean say,
“This cannot happen. There are no more Deuces. Take care of her, I’ll take care of those clowns.”