Chapter Eighteen Alexandra.
As I slipped into a groggy consciousness, my limbs felt too heavy and laden down to move.
Blinking furiously, I struggled to open my eyes.
The moment my lids finally flew open everything that had happened the night before came crashing down on me like a building crumbling in on itself.
A scream tore from my lips as a reel of images assaulted me.
The arms and legs that I had previously not had the energy to lift began to thrash violently on the bed.
My body shook and convulsed until a soothing voice to my left calmed me.
“Shh, it’s okay honey,” Liz said, as she took my hand in hers.
Bile rose in my throat, and when I swallowed hard, my throat raged in agony.
But it wasn’t the screaming from last night that had left it raw like it had been shredded by razor blades.
It was a combination of the strong hands of my attacker on my throat as well as my cries of terror before Deacon had swooped in to rescue me.
Oh God, Deacon.
He had been my protector—a true knight in shining armor. His strength had saved me from a hellish nightmare. My eyes scanned the room wildly for him. “David is fine. He just had to take care of some things. He’ll be back in a few minutes,” Liz reassured.
I couldn’t help wondering what he was doing. I’d still been cognizant enough to remember him barking orders to Rev and Bishop about bringing my attacker back to the compound. Had he gone to torture the man for information? Maybe even kill him?
At my shudder, Liz eased the covers tighter around me. When I glanced up at her, she tenderly cupped my cheek. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, honey.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“Are you hurting anywhere?”
“I just feel achy that’s all.” When I shifted in the bed, some of the lashes on my back screamed in agony, and I grimaced.
“Let me get you some of the medicine Breakneck left.”
“Breakneck?”
She laughed. “I’m sorry. I still refer to him like when he was a club member. I meant, Dr. Edgeway.”
A small knock came at the door. “Grandma Liz, can I see Alex now?” Willow’s muffled voice questioned.
I shook my head wildly back and forth as tears stung my eyes. “I-I c-can’t let her see me like this.”
Liz twisted the hem of her apron before meeting my gaze. “She’s been asking to see you all morning. She cried herself to sleep in Nathaniel’s arms because she was so worried after they brought you home. I don’t think she’s going to be satisfied that you’re truly okay until she can see you.”
“W-What does she…” I swallowed again. “What did you say happened to me?”
“David told her you were in a car accident. He thought that was the best explanation for your injuries.”
“My injuries?”
Liz grimaced. “The cuts and bruises.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
The once gentle rapping at the door grew louder. I could almost imagine Willow’s tiny palms smacking against the wood. “Please, Grandma Liz, let me in!” she cried.
Her agonized tone broke me. Regardless of whether I had the emotional and physical strength to see her, I couldn’t deny her. She had been through too much in the last few months. There was only so much a child could take, and I couldn’t add to her suffering.
Pushing myself up in the bed, I called, “Come in, sweetheart.” I winced from the slicing pain in my throat.
The door flew open, banging back on its hinges.
Willow came barreling into the room. As her dark eyes met mine, the haunted look faded slightly.
Her tear-streaked cheeks stretched into a wide smile.
But the longer she surveyed me, the smile started to dim.
I could only imagine my face was pretty messed up.
“Oh Miss Alex, you have so many boo boos. Are you going to be okay?”
Forcing a smile to my face, I nodded. “I sure am. Just a little battered and bruised, but I’ll be fine.”
Her dark brows creased in worry, and I could see the wheels in her head were turning. She was wondering whether to believe me. Lifting my hand, I motioned her to the bed. “Come sit with me. I know being with you will make me feel better.”
She grinned as she made a beeline to the bed. “Careful,” Liz warned when Willow scrambled onto the bed.
“Want to watch some cartoons?” she asked.
“Mm, hmm.”
With a grin, she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the remote. After turning on the TV, she settled on an old Scooby Doo episode.
“Think you could eat something?” Liz asked. When I shook my head, she said, “I have some biscuits and gravy made. They’d be soft on your stomach. But if you want some soup, I can make you some of that.”
Her insistence caused an emotional ache to burn through my chest. She was mothering me, and it had been so long since I had been mothered. It was something I missed desperately.
At my continued hesitation, she said, “It’ll do you good, honey.”
With my throat clenched with the onslaught of emotion, I merely nodded my head. Liz’s face lit up at my agreement. “All right then. Biscuits and grits or soup?”
“I can’t imagine anything I’d want more than your biscuits,” I said.
She smiled. “Then biscuits it is. Be back in a minute.”
As Willow snuggled to my side, I bent down to bestow a kiss on the top of her head. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the sweet fragrance of her shampoo. “Love you, Miss Alex,” Willow murmured.
Tears filled my eyes. “I love you, too, sweetheart. So very, very much.”
Gazing up at me, Willow said, “Oh don’t cry!”
“It’s okay. They’re happy tears from hearing your sweet words.”
Willow frowned. “I was just gonna say I wish you were my mommy, but I better not if it’s gonna make you cry.”
There was the noise of someone clearing his throat in the doorway. When I glanced up, my heart surged at the sight of Deacon’s strong form. He held a tray filled with the food that Liz had insisted on me eating. “Hi,” I said softly.
“Hi,” he replied. His dark eyes then went to Willow. “Go on out to the kitchen and have your lunch.”
Her lips turned down in a pout. “But I wanna stay with Miss Alex.”
“Willow—”
“I just got to come in a few minutes ago,” she protested.
“Don’t argue with me. Go. Now,” he commanded. His no-nonsense tone had Willow scrambling off the bed, but it didn’t stop her from stomping across the room in a huff.
When she met him in the doorway, she crooked her finger at him, beckoning him down to her level. After he stooped a little, she said in a slightly hushed tone, “Miss Alex is hurt and sad, so you be nice to her.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What did you just say to me?”
“Don’t be mean like you usually are. Be nice.”
Deacon’s expression of utter disbelief brought a much needed smile to my face.
He stared down at his daughter like she was some alien life form.
The state of his shock took away any ability to chastise Willow for her words or tone.
When he finally gave a slight nod of agreement, she breezed past him into the hallway.
With a bewildered look on his face, he crossed the room to me. I sat up, propping myself against the pillows, as he eased down on the bed. “You hungry?”
“Not really. I just didn’t want to hurt Liz’s feelings.”
“Well, you need to eat. Keep your strength up and all.”
I watched in shock as he balanced the tray on his lap. Taking the spoon, he swirled it through some of the grits before scooping out a bite. When he brought it up to my mouth, I widened my eyes.
“What?” Deacon asked, the spoon hovering close to my lips.
“You just surprised me, that’s all.”
When I still didn’t take a bite, Deacon cocked his brows at me. “Don’t tell me you’re going to make me do that bullshit thing like the spoon is an airplane.”
I laughed and then winced from my sore ribs. “Would you really do that?”
“Fuck no.” After grimacing, he shook his head. “I mean, if you needed me, too.”
Emotion twisted in my chest at how hard he was trying to soften himself for me. Leaning forward, I took the spoon into my mouth, sliding the grits onto my tongue. “Mmm, those are so good.”
“Leave it to Mama Liz to make homemade grits. She acts like it’s some kinda sacrilege to eat packaged ones.”
“She just wants the best for her boys,” I replied, with a smile.
Deacon spooned me a bite of biscuit and gravy. As I chewed thoughtfully, he cocked his head at me. “What are you thinking about?”
“That no one would ever believe that Mr. Hard Ass biker boy was feeding me.”
With a snort, Deacon said, “Boy? I’m a man, babe.”
“That you are.”
Obediently I took in another bite of grits. Once I swallowed, Deacon brought the orange juice to my lips. “Shit!” I cried, as the acidity entered my mouth and swished against the raw parts caused by the gag as well as me biting on my tongue and cheek.
Deacon winced. “I should’ve realized orange juice wouldn’t be a good choice.”
“You have a lot of experience with busted mouths?” I questioned before I could stop myself.
“Yeah, I did. Back when I used to fight.”
“Don’t you fight anymore?”
“Yeah, but it was different back when I was a kid. It was a way of survival then.” Searching my eyes for any judgment, he added, “But even now, I won’t stop fighting.”
“A necessary evil,” I murmured. When he gave a brief jerk of his head in acknowledgement, I couldn’t help asking, “What happens now?” I asked.
“You stay here until you get better.”
“Then what?”
Deacon shrugged. “Then you stay here until I get tired of you.”
I laughed. “I think you need to work on your hospitality skills.”
He grinned. “What’s with all the questions? I thought we took care of all this touchy feely shit last night in the shower.”
“We did. But I’m a little OCD when it comes to having a plan for the future.”
“All your pretty little head needs to worry about is healing.” With a pointed look, he added, “Because that bastard will never hurt you again. I swear it.”
As Deacon brought the spoon to my lips, I pushed his hand away. At his raised brows, I asked in a whisper, “You killed him. Didn’t you?”
Deacon let out a ragged sigh. “Don’t ask me about my business.”