Chapter 16
I hear Violette talking to someone outside the door before she enters my room, so I straighten up. The moment I do the side of the bed grazes my thigh and I grunt.
“What happened?” Violette is in my room and at my bedside faster than I can even readjust myself.
“Nothin’,” I grunt again. I know my face is contorted, because, motherfucker, that hurt.
“Bill,” Violette calls into the hall. The burly nursing assistant I’ve seen every day since I’ve been in here comes into the room. “Can you help me prop him up? We’ll place that pillow under his knee to get the blanket away from his leg,” she delegates to him, full nurse mode and pointing to an extra pillow on a chair.
“Sure thing,” Bill says.
I nod to him as he lifts my leg up and gets it off the blanket. I couldn’t have done it without using my bad arm so in this moment I’m grateful for him. The burn pain subsides a bit as Violette presses a button on the side of the bed to raise me up a little.
“Thanks,” she says to Bill, then turns back to me, lifting my burned arm up to prop a pillow under it. I know this is probably awkward for her but she’s gentle and her eyes show her concern. It’s as if she doesn’t like me being uncomfortable. Her soft hands touch the underside of my upper arm and I involuntarily shiver, like a teenager all over again.
Her eyes meet mine when she feels my skin turn to goosebumps. This close, the hazel tone is light and her eyes are fucking hypnotizing.
“Better?” she asks in an almost whisper as she lets my arm go.
I look down and clear my throat. “Yeah, thanks,” I say awkwardly.
“Don’t try to change positions too quickly, the smallest touch can be excruciating,” she adds as she moves back to her computer.
“No shit.” I chuckle. She reaches into the drawer under the computer and pulls out a little packet of pills. Then clicks away, adding something into my file, I assume.
“How do you do this?” I blurt out without thinking. Violette’s eyes snap to mine as she tears open the packet.
“Nursing in general?” She pours the pills into a little clear cup. “You have some water over there? This will help, it’s an anti-inflammatory,” she adds, moving back toward me.
I nod and try to reach over to my empty cup without flinching. I fail. She’s right, any movement right now is no fun.
Violette hurries to my side and lifts the cup, filling it with fresh water and passing it to me, I reach my good arm out and take it from her, doing my best to breathe her in.
“Yes, nursing, but the burn unit specifically,” I add, hoping I didn’t just open Pandora’s box for her.
To my surprise, she doesn’t tell me I’m being too personal. She just shrugs and says something so honest it takes me aback.
“I do it the same way you still fight fires. If we don’t, it’s like Jacob died for nothing, and I just can’t live with that, I won’t live with that.”
I blow out a breath with the sound of his name. It’s just not spoken out loud all that much anymore.
“Fair enough.” I nod. I bide my time and take my pills while she washes her hands and puts on a fresh pair of gloves.
Violette moves with the kind of grace she’s always had, only now she’s more confident. She’s changed a lot. She’s been someone’s wife. She’s a mother, and I can’t pinpoint why but I get the feeling she’s been through a lot. What little interaction I’ve had with her tells me the woman she’s turned into is really something. I try to imagine her as a mom. I’d bet my life she’s an incredible one. If she can dislike me and still treat me like she genuinely cares about my well-being, she’s definitely a great nurse too.
I try to keep my breathing steady while I wait. Contrary to popular belief, the last fucking thing I want is for Violette to see me at my weakest and help me apply ointment to my skin, or what’s left of it. Yet when she offers me a small smile and sits down beside me, I’m glad she’s here. I want to watch the way the light hits her hazel eyes, and the way the smattering of freckles that dust the bridge of her nose are only visible when she’s this close. I want to breathe in the way her hair smells as she leans down to start her work.
Fuck . I scrub my scruffy jaw to get my shit together. This woman has me over a barrel, and I’ve only known she’s been back in town for a week and a half.
Violette begins to soak my dressings in room temperature saline water to make it easier to get them off, then with patient expertise, she pulls back the dressings on my thigh working carefully but intentionally. “Let me know if it hurts too much, okay? We can do it in spurts.”
“Yeah.” I nod.
I keep my eyes on her face, deep in concentration and ignore the burn. Partly so I don’t have to look at my leg blistered and weeping, and partly because she is just a much better view. Once the dressings are off, she stands for a moment and takes her gloves off, picking up a phone from her cart. She snaps a few photos, then puts the phone back.
“What’s your pain level on a scale of one to ten?” she asks as she makes her way to the sink to re-wash.
“Six,” I say honestly. It’s not terrible—as long as I’m on drugs and I don’t move.
Violette puts a fresh pair of gloves on and makes her way back to my bedside. What I assume is her own phone dings in her pocket as she does. She ignores it as she starts to clean my wounds. I grit my teeth as she works. Her phone dings again, once, twice, three times. Still, she ignores it.
“Maybe important?” I ask, curious to know who is texting her.
“It’s just my ex,” she says, not losing her concentration as she cleans.
“Ahh,” I say. “Tom?” I smirk. That gets her attention. She pauses her work.
“Troy.” She smirks but doesn’t look at me.
“Right, right,” I say as her eyes focus on the gory sight of my thigh.
“How do you know it’s him?” I ask, curious again.
“I know when he texts. He has his own special message tone,” she says, grabbing a tube of burn ointment and beginning to apply it. “In case anything goes wrong with Hollie when she’s with him, I know it’s worth checking.”
I nod as she grazes one of my burns just enough to send a searing shockwave through my body.
“Fuck,” I bite out. Her eyes flit to mine and her brow furrows a little.
“Sorry, do you need to take a break or should we keep going?”
“I’m good,” I report, trying to be strong, and trying to pretend that having her this close doesn’t affect me more than the pain right now.
A long, drawn-out silence takes over while she does her thing, the only sound is the ticking of my IV pump, and my thunderous heartbeat in my ears as she touches me.
“So, you like being a mom?”
Her eyes meet mine.
Fucking lame King, Jesus.
“I gotta be honest with you, Violette,” I add. “Being alone with you again, I’m—fuck—I just want to make this right here.”
Her eyes stay on her work which makes me even more nervous for some reason.
“It can just be what it is. I’m your nurse, King, I’m going to take care of you the way I would any patient in my unit,” she says with no emotion, using my last name. Have I mentioned I fucking hate that?
A few more moments pass as she finishes up.
“I’ll be back to check on you in a bit. There are only two other people on the floor right now, so if you need me, I’ll be close by. All you have to do is buzz, okay?” she asks, and once again her tone is kind but very professional. Visions of her laughing her real, genuine laugh fill my mind. Hell, even to see her angry at me would be better than this monotone type thing she’s got going on. She tosses her gown and gloves into the bin and readies to leave.
I should just let her go. Quit while I’m ahead with her actually talking to me without looking like she wants to punch me, but I just want to keep her here for as long as I can, and I’m a sucker for punishment if nothing else, so I don’t.
“Hey, Vi, you never answered my question.”
She pauses and turns back to face me, for just a second the spark in her eyes as she rolls them almost gives me hope.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda needy, Kingsley?” she asks as she places her hand on her curvy hip. Fuck yes, this I can work with. I give her my best, poor me face.
“Maybe I’m needy, but I can’t help it—I’m injured and I’m high.”
She tips her head back and laughs lightly, a small but genuine laugh that feels like a goddamn reward as she pumps some hand sanitizer into her palms and rubs them together. Her phone dings again in her pocket, the ex.
“Yeah,” she says with a genuine smile, one I can tell is all for her daughter. “I really love being a mom, it’s the best job I’ve ever had. Try to get some rest.” And then she disappears out of sight. I lean back on my bed and grin up at the ceiling. It was one laugh, but at this point I’ll take anything I can get.