Chapter 3
Three
Cindy bustles toward the desk with exasperation.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” Cindy says with exhaustion plaguing her tone. “Our new patient in room one-twelve wants to be discharged early. I just need to get the paperwork ready.”
“Is that wise?” I ask with heightened concern.
Cindy shrugs, marking the form. “We can’t keep him against his will. If he wants to walk out, fine by me.”
“You and Trisha are eager to get rid of him.”
Cindy frowns. “I wouldn’t call him a dream patient. Anyway, you can head off too, if you like. It’s getting late.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”
Cindy smiles. “Go on. You’re young and beautiful. Go have some fun.”
I sigh, grinning. “Why does everyone keep telling me to have fun?”
“Maybe because you act like a grown-up at eighteen,” Cindy jokes. “You can’t even imagine the stuff I’d get up to if I were a billionaire’s kid.”
I laugh and collect my purse from under the desk. “Okay, I’ll get going. See you tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, Vanessa. Thanks for your help.”
I step out of the nurses’ station and keep my eyes fixed on room 1-12. I wish I had a good excuse to go back in there. I’d say goodbye to Mrs. Gibson if she weren’t already snoozing.
Oh well, perhaps it’s for the best. Trisha said his family is dangerous. Shouldn’t that be enough to keep me away from him? Why hasn’t it sunk in yet?
I pull out my cell phone to call my driver, but before I leave the wing, I notice Dr. Harris approaches the nurses’ station. I should keep walking, but my ears prick.
“Does Dax Malone still want to leave?” Dr. Harris asks Cindy.
“Yes, I’m getting the paperwork ready now.”
Dr. Harris pauses, frowning at a file in his hands. “I think we should warn against this. I have his full blood count, and the white cell differential gives cause for alarm.”
I drop my phone, and both Dr. Harris and Nurse Cindy turn as I scramble to pick it up. Oh my gosh, that sounded serious. I pull myself together, wave goodbye, and hastily make my way out of the hospital wing.
I leave the building and call my driver. He won’t take long to arrive, and I scroll through my phone to pass the time. I’m so embarrassed. Dr. Harris caught me eavesdropping. Hopefully, he assumes I was glued to my phone and didn’t hear a word.
Behind me, the doors burst open, followed by the thud of heavy boots.
I turn around and find Dax Malone walking out of the hospital, thrusting his arms into his leather jacket sleeves. He winces and presses his arm against his ribs.
“Wait,” I blurt without forethought.
Dax peers my way with a questioning stare.
“Ah,” I stumble on my words. “Sorry. Not to pry, but, should you be leaving the hospital?”
He frowns, and I notice the fullness of his lips. “Why?”
My eyes fall on the hand gripping his side. “You’re in pain.”
He smirks. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”
Dax steps away from me, fumbling inside his jacket pocket. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and places one between his lips.
When he flicks on a lighter, “You smoke?” tumbles out my mouth before I can catch it.
Dax takes a puff and pulls the cigarette from his lips. Smoky haze covers half his face.
I use my most apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”
“You got a problem with me smoking?” he asks and returns the cigarette to his lips. It’s then I notice a red rose tattooed below his thumb and running down the length of his hand.
“Don’t you?” I question. “It’s well documented they’re bad for your health.”
He laughs and takes another drag. He blows the smoke out the side of his mouth and holds the cigarette behind him. “Sweetheart, I got bigger problems than cigarettes.”
My jaw clenches and I fold my arms across my chest. “My name’s not Sweetheart.”
He trudges my way, smiling. “Oh yeah. What’s the name, then?”
I look him up and down. He’s like no one I’ve ever met. Every shift at St. Mark’s Hospital, I meet people from the community. No one has struck a chord like this guy.
“Cat got your tongue?” he jokes, flicking cigarette ash on the cracked pavement. He coughs, grunts, and presses firmly against his ribs. “What are you doing here, anyway? You look dressed for Snob Falls.”
I frown hard. “I look like a snob?”
“No, you twisted my words.” He nods at the hospital, and asks, “What are you doing wasting a Friday at a hospital?”
“I’m here to serve the community.”
“Who said you rich kids don’t know how to live?”
Irritation gets the better of me. “Would it be better to let the nurses go without any help?”
Dax replies with an eyebrow raised and takes another puff of his cigarette.
As the repulsion filters through me, Roger pulls up at the curb in the shiny black sedan. I’ve given him strict instructions never to bring a limousine into Logan’s Point. Turning up in a low socioeconomic area in a stretch is in very poor taste.
“Let me guess,” Dax says, “your ride?”
“Correct,” I say as Roger walks around to the rear passenger door.
“Miss Ashworth,” Roger says, standing by the open door.
“Coming,” I reply.
“Goodbye, Miss Ashworth,” Dax replies in a teasing tone.
I walk to the door and thank Roger. He nods and walks back to the driver’s seat. I take a step into the car, and then pull back.
I turn around and meet Dax’s stare.
“How are you getting home?” I ask.
His jaw rocks. “What do you mean?”
I nod at the hospital. “Weren’t you in an accident? Is your bike damaged?”
He scratches his head, further messing up his scruffy hair. “Ah, it’ll need a bit of work, but it got me here. I can ride it home.”
“With broken ribs?” I question. “Why don’t we take you home? Is it close?”
He takes another drag and coughs while inhaling. He grimaces as he holds his side.
“Okay, get in,” I say, stepping aside and holding the door wide open. “You can’t walk or ride home in this condition.”
“A little cough is nothing new,” he argues.
“The cough is just a symptom of broken ribs.”
“They probably only bruised.”
“Probably?”
He shrugs. “They wanted to take X-rays, but I don’t have that much time to waste. Plus the doc said they’ll heal.”
“There could be complications.”
“It’s not that bad. I’m positive they’re just bruised.”
“Oh, yeah? Where did you go to med school?”
Dax laughs, pressing onto his side. “You’re a sassy one, aren’t you?”
The description takes me off guard. “Sassy?”
“Yeah.”
“No one has ever called me sassy.”
“Well, you’re giving me sass.”
“Maybe because I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“What, charming and adventurous?”
“Argumentative and trouble.”
“Okay, I’ll agree that I argue, but trouble? What have I done to cause you trouble? You’re the one who started this conversation.”
“I saw your leather jacket and tattoo.”
“Am I branded a criminal because you saw a scorpion?”
I fold my arms, suddenly feeling cold. “I didn’t know about The Scorpions before today, but apparently your gang has quite a reputation.”
He smirks. “But not a big enough rep to get across to Snob Falls? We can’t be that bad then.”
I lower my guard. “Maybe not.”
“Those scaredy-cat nurses like to exaggerate. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
“I’m capable of forming my own opinions.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are, Sassy.”
I roll my eyes and find myself smiling. “It’s Vanessa.”
“What is?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “My name. It’s Vanessa.”
“Sassy suits you better.”
“Ugh. You’re impossible.”
He grins. “No, I’m Dax.”
“Can you stop being a clown and get in? Is it really so hard for you to accept help?”
With another trademark eyebrow raise, I gather his answer is yes.
He drops the cigarette to the ground and stomps on it with his boot. When he strolls toward me, I feel minuscule. Am I really letting a total stranger into the car? Not to mention, a stranger with an incredibly bad reputation.
“I’ll take the bike home,” he says flatly. “But thanks for the offer, Miss Ashworth.”
Dax backs away, and I notice his unbalanced steps as he approaches his motorcycle. I slowly enter the sedan, keeping a watchful eye as he hoists a leg over his bike.
“Roger,” I call. “Can you follow him on his motorcycle? He’s passed out twice today, and I want to make sure he gets home safe.”
“As you wish, Miss Ashworth.”
Roger takes off a few car lengths behind the motorcycle. Dax weaves around cars and takes corners sharply. My mind replays his slight limp and the way he held his side. I swallow hard, dreading the idea of him skidding off the moving motorcycle.
Is it an image I want to see in real life? I don’t know this boy. I shouldn’t want to know this boy. I should forget this boy, go home, and get ready for dinner at the country club. But I can’t get Dax out of my head. Deep inside me, something desires to know more about him.
But this is crazy. If my parents knew I was venturing further into Logan’s Point, they’d be livid. I just won’t get out of the car. I’ll check Dax gets home okay and then leave. Hmm. Maybe I’ll also check out his home. And maybe see that smirk one more time.
As we breeze by the main street of Logan’s Point, the houses outside my window become smaller and decrepit.
The car jolts along potholes and cracks in the road.
Unsupervised children gather by the road, and Roger is forced to brake hard when one chases after a wayward basketball.
Unkempt plant life grows in the cracked sidewalk and disappears into abandoned homes. At least, I hope no one lives in them.
As the houses worsen, my stomach quivers when a thought hits me. How bad must Dax’s home be? As the car slows where the motorcycle turned off, I gulp anxiously and unbuckle my seatbelt.
The car idles outside a ranch-style tavern. Above the windows and below the guttering, an aged sign reads, ‘Scorpions.’
“Miss, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get out of the car,” Roger says, turning in the driver’s seat.
I press a hand against my window, searching for Dax. “Do you think he got inside okay?”
“Yes, Miss. I really must be getting you back to Ashworth Estate.”