3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Maci
E very part of me hurts. Which makes sense, considering a two-hundred-pound guy did fall on me after trying to slice and dice me.
The tension of the whole thing seeps into my bones. Peeling my eyelids open intensifies the dry burn. My throat hurts, but I don’t know why because I didn’t scream.
Sutton rubs light circles on my hand, sitting at my side. He perks up, realizing I’m awake.
“Hi,” I croak.
“Hi, yourself.” He stands and kisses me on the forehead. “Thirsty?”
I nod.
The warmth of his hands disappears as he moves to a small rolling table, filling a Styrofoam cup. He presents it to me with a straw. “Sips.”
I roll my eyes. “When did you get a medical degree?”
“Real funny, Firecracker.” Even through his sarcasm, he smirks. I appreciate the moment of normalcy. He waits for me to sip a few times before setting the cup back on the table and sitting at my side again. “How do you feel?”
Like I was hit by a Mac truck. “I’m okay.”
Sutton’s eyes narrow. “You don’t have to—”
The room door swings open.
“Oh good, you’re awake.” A bright-eyed nurse smiles at me. “Are you thirsty?” She bustles around the bed.
“I’m fine, thanks.” Her chipper attitude isn’t as welcome as the calm nurse in the ER. My nerves are shot, an odd combination with how sluggish I feel.
“I’ll let the doctor know you’re up.” She stands, staring at me expectantly, across the bed from Sutton. I blink at her. At first, I think she’s waiting for a response, but it feels like she’s assessing us. Judging us. Judging me.
Her mouth pulls into a smile that doesn’t meet her eyes and she darts out of the room.
“This place is full of weird people,” I mutter as the door closes.
Sutton chuckles. His presence is soothing, and I let my eyes close.
It’s not the closed eyes of being at Nana’s, wondering how long it would be until someone found me bleeding out.
The relief at hearing Sutton’s voice almost instantly after the scuffle was unparalleled.
I’m not fully resting here, but having him near me is a reminder that I’m not the only one looking out for me. I don’t have to be at one hundred percent now.
The door flies open again. This time, the nurse is followed by a man in his forties. She’s still smiling widely, attempting cheerful, but it comes off more blinding.
“This is Detective Porter.” She scans my face and Sutton’s in turn.
“Hey there. I’m Detective Porter with the Bull Creek Police Department.” He’s dressed in khakis and a polo and carries a dark notebook in one hand.
The nurse eyes us once more before leaving.
Detective Porter walks further into the room as the door closes quietly. I’m not sure how such a large door can close without a sound. If only it opened the same way.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened tonight, if you feel up for it.”
It’s odd to think it’s still the same night. I’m not even sure what time it is.
“That’s fine. Whatever you need.” I knew this was bound to happen sooner or later. My upbringing is fueling my ability to be pleasant right now, when I really just want everyone to go away and for things to be quiet. Not that it matters if it’s quiet in here. Outside these walls, I can imagine all the whispered gossip going on.
Stupid small towns.
Now I remember just one of the many reasons I can’t stand their oppressive nature. The last few weeks getting to know Sutton and spending time with my family and friends lulled me into a false sense of enjoyment.
“So you understand, we will be conducting a full investigation. I’ve collected the clothing you both had on earlier.” Detective Porter doesn’t make eye contact as he opens his notebook. The flipping pages jar my sensitive nerves, akin to scraping a fork on a plate.
I refrain from commenting that I’ll never wear the sweater again anyway. “Fine by me.”
“Can you walk me through the events of the night?” he asks, without acknowledging my response.
Sutton doesn’t move from where he stands, his gaze burning into the side of my face.
I release a long breath. Reliving it all threatens to overwhelm my senses.
Just the facts. Stick to the facts.
“I was in the backyard when Colt showed up. On the phone with Sutton.” I look up at him, and something flickers in his eyes momentarily. I focus on the detective.
There’s nothing remarkable about him. He’s a man of average height and weight with pretty, brown eyes. His face remains void of emotion and, as expected, he’s writing in his book. I study the threads of the Bull Creek Police Department patch on the breast of his polo. I wonder how much this interrupted his weekend.
“Were you expecting him?”
“No.” My lips are especially dry. I wet them before continuing. “The last I saw or heard from him was Halloween. He approached me at a Trunk-or-Treat event at the dental office. I filed a police report.”
I pull my hand free from Sutton’s, rubbing both over my face as the revelations from my conversation with Colt wash over me again. “Actually, there’s another report, too. My Jeep window was broken last weekend, and I filed a report then. Colt admitted tonight that it was him.”
Sutton shuffles on his feet and scrubs a hand over his face angrily.
The detective watches him for a moment before returning his focus to me. “Was that why Colt came over? To tell you about the window?”
A sardonic laugh bursts from me, and Sutton tenses. “No. Not even close. He came to kill me.” I don’t blink, daring Detective Porter to question my statement.
His lips purse and he scribbles more notes into his book. “You killed Colt Young because you feared for your life?”
It doesn’t matter that his tone isn’t accusatory. His bland use of “kill” sends fury rippling through my aching body. I grip the plastic rails of the bed with both hands and lean forward, gritting my teeth from the pain that shoots through my gut like lightning. “He threatened my life and stabbed me.”
“And you shot him.”
He’s only stating facts, but after what transpired tonight, I feel reactionary, and it’s an effort to school my emotions. He stares at me blankly.
Sutton takes a step forward. “With all due respect—”
I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrist. “It’s ok.” Except, it’s not. “Yes. I shot him. Yes, I feared for my life.” I thought I could, but I can’t do this tonight. Not in a way that keeps me in control of my emotions. “Actually, I’m feeling kind of tired. If there’s anything that you absolutely need to know tonight, please ask me that. Otherwise, I’d prefer to schedule a time over the next few days to discuss this.”
He dips his chin and closes his notebook. “A gunshot residue kit was completed at the house, correct?”
Was it? I don’t remember.
Sutton speaks up. “Yes.”
“Good, good.” He hesitates. “Were there any…other injuries?” He looks uncomfortably between Sutton and me.
I lift my left hand toward the hidden wound. “You mean, aside from being stabbed?”
He swallows. “No sexual assault?”
Sutton’s head whips my way.
I close my eyes and work to keep my tone even. “No.”
He nods. “I’ll get out of your way tonight. No need to make an appointment. Just stop by the police department in the next forty-eight hours so we can discuss a few more details.” He extends a card to Sutton. “Call me if you need anything in the meantime.”
I can’t bring myself to force a thank-you. I’m reaching my limit.
The door closes again.
“Cowboy.” I wait for his perfect, steel-blue eyes to return to me, and he moves to the bed, reaching for my hand. “Can you please call—Oh, shit!”
His hand squeezes. “What is it?”
I shake my head. “I was going to ask you to use my phone to call Izzy or Leah to bring me some clothes, but my phone’s at Nana’s.” I swallow. “By the fire pit.”
“They’re here already.” He rubs a thumb over my cheek.
“Wha—” I’m interrupted by the door swinging open again. They just need to make these rooms with turnstiles.
Doctor Fields enters with the nurse behind him. “How are you feeling?” There’s a disconnect between his question and emotion.
“Sore.” A tiny part of my brain screams to apologize for my clipped tone, but I don’t have it in me.
He stops at the foot of the bed. “That’s to be expected. Surgery went well. You got very lucky. There was no damage to any organs. However, it did pierce muscle so you’re going to be sore for a while. Try to limit lifting to only five to ten pounds for a couple weeks and take it easy.” All the information comes at once, though he doesn’t hurry through.
The half-smile he ends with does nothing to boost my spirits. I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea of layers of my body being infiltrated by a foreign object.
“Listen to your body. Increase activity each day, but don’t overdo it. We don’t want you popping any stitches, and quite frankly, healing muscles are pretty painful.” He grins like he has first-hand experience. It’s not comforting. “Any questions?”
“Do I need to come back to have the stitches removed?”
“No, but you’ll want to be seen by your primary care provider in a couple of weeks for a follow-up.”
“When can I go?” I ask eagerly.
Sutton gives my hand two quick squeezes. I don’t have to look at him to know he thinks I’m being hasty, but I need out of this place.
The doctor focuses on his clipboard and turns to leave. “We’ll monitor you for a bit longer. You’ll probably be discharged in the morning.” He pats the foot of the bed like he did earlier.
Nausea and exhaustion battle for control. The sensation of being under a microscope is wearing on me.
Sutton plants a long kiss on my forehead. “Izzy and Leah are downstairs. They weren’t leaving without an update, but it looks like we’re going to be here for a bit. You gonna be ok?”
I nod. “Yep.”
He studies me for a few seconds while I stare stiffly back at him. Holding it all together requires me to maintain a distance I don’t like.
Cold rushes through my body as soon as he releases my hand. I swallow to force back the emotion threatening to tumble out.
The lingering fog of anesthesia adds an annoying sensitivity to my nerve receptors. I blame that and the long-term exposure to adrenaline tonight for the weepy, fearful, overwhelmed way my body wants to react.
The nurse moves around quietly, her chipper personality absent. I wonder if she thinks I’m a cold-blooded murderer.
As Sutton reaches the door, I say, “You can go home if you need to. I’ll be ok.”
His sharp look tells me that won’t be happening.
The nurse looks between us. As if the entire scenario isn’t hard enough, we have to do most of this with an audience.
“I’m not going anywhere, Maci.”
He may never understand the way I offer an out, hoping that he won’t take it. And yet, every time he chooses me, a new thread of belonging ties us together.
My hearts flutters and I close my eyes to force the tears to stay in. Sutton shuts the door behind him and I will my body to rest, falling into a pseudo-sleep. What feels like seconds later, the door opens again. Only this time, it’s the quietest it’s ever been.
Through heavy lids, I peek at Sutton re-entering the room.
“Did they leave?” The words are hindered by my dry mouth and thick tongue.
He nods and offers me the Styrofoam cup to sip from, speaking while I do. “Visiting hours are over, but I gave them an update.” His eyebrows reach his hairline for a moment. “They’ll be back first thing to see you.”
It sounds too easy. “Doesn’t seem likely that they would’ve just left.”
He sets the cup on the table, and a familiar half-smirk plays on his lips. “It wasn’t quite that simple. They said they weren’t going, and they’d just sleep in the lobby. I told them you’d just worry. They’ll be back at eight.” His last sentence is pointed and he smiles, situating himself back in the chair at my side.
I tilt my head closer to him. “So how are you still here?” My stage whisper draws his lips up.
“I told the paramedics I’m family.”
“And now? No one’s asked?”
He lifts our intertwined fingers between us. “Does this look like a lie?” His lips are warm as he kisses my knuckles like he’s done several times before. The tender act sends those fiery little butterflies soaring through my veins. His eyes roam my face, and I’m reminded of the state of my appearance. “I’ll be right back.”
He lays my hand on the bed and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a wet rag. “You have…” Letting the sentence trail off, he dabs at my cheeks and neck gently before rubbing a thumb along my bottom lip. “I don’t care what you look like. Just removing anything he may have left behind.”
It doesn’t come across judgmental, but instead, thoughtful. Lying in Nana’s grass with Colt’s knife lodged in my body was the most violating thing I’ve ever experienced. Sutton’s right that I want nothing left of him, however long the trauma of the event may last.
There’s hardly any rest to be had in this place. How anyone is supposed to recover in Recovery is beyond me. People come in throughout the night to administer pain meds, check my vital signs multiple times, and draw more blood. They seem to think that because I still have an IV in my arm, there’s no disturbance. They’re wrong.
Sutton never leaves my side, despite the battered chair he occupies—which I’m certain isn’t comfortable. At some point, he lays his hat upside down on the tiny rolling table in the room.
Sometime after seven I get a new nurse, and from that point on I’m wide awake. I’m not sure how leaving against medical advice works, but if someone doesn’t produce discharge paperwork soon, I’ll be finding out.
A breakfast tray arrives just before eight. I open the plastic dome on the plate, but that’s as far as I get. Cold eggs and sausage links, and stale toast greet me. Breakfast of champions.
The next time the door opens, Izzy and Leah walk through.
It’s an effort not to move. I want to wrap them both in my arms. Nick enters behind them.
Izzy’s eyes glisten. “Oh my God, Maci. Are you ok?”
My friends rush at me from either side of the bed, wrapping their arms around my neck. I’m thankful to be in a somewhat seated position so I can wrap an arm around each of them, as well. My side tugs painfully, but it’s muted.
When they release me, I pat my stitched side. “Better than new.”
Sutton’s face drops. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
I bite my lip through a smile. “I wasn’t asking you.”
“Seems normal to me,” Leah says, grinning at Izzy.
“How long are you going to be here?” Izzy squeezes her tiny rear onto the bed with me. Leah replicates the motion, stretching her legs fully so they tuck under the chair Sutton was using.
“Actually, I’m being discharged soon,” I say happily.
“Already?” Leah’s voice is skeptical.
“Yep. Told you, better than new.” My friends exchange a look over me.
Sutton interjects. “Our vehicles are at Ruthie’s. Think you guys can lend some help getting them?”
“Already took care of ’em.” Nick is posted near the bathroom, looking more like a warden than I’ve seen. Someone needs to tell these two men that the threat has been neutralized.
“Really?” Sutton readjusts his hat.
“Yep. We did some shuffling last night before we went our separate ways.” Nick eyes Izzy and Leah in turn.
The nurse speaks from the doorway. “Discharge paperwork. Why don’t you get dressed and we can go over everything?” She shakes a set of papers in the air.
Izzy holds up a small bag. “I got you.”
My heart is full. After everything, my friends are here to help me through. I can’t decide if I’m annoyed with this stupid small town and all the trouble it’s caused, or happy that I’ve fallen in love and my best friends have easy access during my time in need.
The nurse sets the paperwork on the rolling table with my Styrofoam cup, swapping it for my untouched tray of food, and shuts the door on her way out.
“We’ll wait outside.” Sutton motions to Nick, who departs without question.
“Did we wake you?” Izzy sets the bag on the table.
“No?”
Leah plops into the chair Sutton occupied. “So, why the radio silence? Anesthesia fog? Sutton told us about the…” Her tanned face darkens, and her eyes drop to the floor.
“Actually, I need to get a new phone. I assume the police department has mine,” I say mostly to myself.
Izzy studies my face. “How are you really?”
I squeeze her hand tucked into the blankets by my hip. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re so damn stubborn, Maci Grace. Can’t you just let people take care of you?” Leah huffs, while Izzy yanks a shirt out of the bag she’s holding in half-hearted annoyance.
I grin. “I love you. Thank you for being here.”
“Oh, honey, we wouldn’t be anywhere else.” Izzy brushes some hair out of my face. “Come on, let’s get you dressed so you can go home with your cowboy.” A faint smile passes her lips.
Moving is an effort, but I’ll do whatever is needed to get out of here. After Izzy helps me dress, I sit at the foot of the bed.
Izzy’s voice comes out in a whisper. “You had us worried.”
I don’t dismiss her emotions by telling her that nothing compares to thinking your one-night-stand-turned-stalker-stepbrother is going to gut you in your safe haven. Instead, I say, “All good.”
“Sure. I’m gonna grab the nurse so we can get you out of here.” She gives me a gentle hug before standing. “I love you. I’m really glad you’re okay.”
I release her quickly. I can’t get into all this emotional stuff right now.
The nurse makes me agree not to drive for twenty-four hours since I was under anesthesia. I doubt anyone around here would let me even if I wanted to at this point. She goes over how to take care of the incision and promises to return with a wheelchair.
Izzy addresses Sutton in a friendly tone. “Before you hold our bestie captive, why don’t you let us run her for meds and a new phone?” She’s not really asking even though she’s asking.
Sutton’s eyes bounce between us. “I don’t mind taking her, but that’s her call.”
The nurse returns with my metal chariot. “All set?”
Everyone looks at me. “Yep.”
As Sutton helps me into the chair, I say, “Why don’t you let the girls take me? You’ve been here all night.”
His face is tight, but he nods before pushing me out to Izzy’s car and helping me in.