12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Faith
B y the end of my shift, my feet were aching, and I knew my bed was calling my name. I clocked out and grabbed my things just in time to spot a patient who stopped me dead in my tracks.
"What the hell happened to you?" I ask as Derek is seated on a bed, his face covered in cuts and new bruises beginning to form. And his nose isn't looking quite right either.
"You work here?" he asks, looking just as shocked to see me as I am to see him.
"No, I just like to hang out here for the drama and bad coffee," I joke as I lay my things down on the floor beside the bed and throw on a pair of latex gloves. "What happened to you? Has the doctor been in to see you yet?"
"Uh, one of the nurses took some notes and said the doctor would come by in a couple of minutes," he says as he lets me examine his injuries.
"You're lucky. Dr. Freeman is one of the best at resetting broken noses," I tell him as I tilt his chin to get a closer look at the damage across his face. It doesn't look too out of place, so that's good."
"You should see the other guy," he scoffs, and it's only now that I realize he's babying his left arm, the jacket sleeve already stained with blood.
"Uh, seeing as you're bleeding through your clothes, I'm not sure I want to know how the other guy is," I say. "Can I take this off you?"
"Yeah, sure," he says, slowly sliding his sleeve off, wincing just a bit at the discomfort until I can clearly see the pieces of glass still in his skin.
"Hey, Anna," I call to the head nurse. "I'm taking this case. I'm going to need a wound dressing kit over here."
"You got it," she calls back, soon returning with a tray of bandages, sterilizers, and suture tools. "Dr. Freeman is on her way down."
"Okay, I'll get him cleaned up as best I can before she resets his nose."
"I thought doctors did the stitching up," Derek says when I lay him back against the bed, propping his injured arm on a stack of pillows.
"Nurses suture wounds too," I tell him as I start rinsing his arm with peroxide to get a better view of his injuries that sadly still have plenty of glass in them. "You won't like me for the next few minutes or so."
"Why?" he asks, then flinches with the first shard of glass I pull out. "Never mind."
Thankfully, he sits still like a champ until I'm sure I got every piece out.
"Now that the hard part is over, are you going to tell me what brought you to my neck of the woods?" I ask as I start numbing him with lidocaine.
"You're never going to believe who's out of prison," he sighs.
"Who?"
"Gregory Sampson."
Instantly, I froze. "No fucking way," I reply, my gut turning to knots. "I thought he had another year."
"Apparently, he was a good boy while he was locked up, and they decided to let him out on good behavior," he says. "Wally, a buddy of mine, and I went out for a drink, and guess who was already three sheets to the wind."
"Why the hell would he go out drinking the second he's released?"
"I asked Wally the same question before I decided to talk with old "Gregory," he said, shaking his head, disappointment and anger seeping into from his voice. He didn't recognize me, but he sure as hell recognized me when I said Chelsea's name."
"What did he do when he knew who you were?" I ask as I start making sutures.
"He tried giving me the brush off, but when that didn't work, he basically told me to get over it. I got pissed, but so did he."
"So, you decided to throw down with him at a bar?"
"He technically threw the first shove," he says defensively. "And he's the one who fought dirty with the glass."
"What do you mean?"
"When I shoved him back, his glass fell with him, and it broke. He took it and swung at me. It would've hit my face if I wasn't fast enough."
"Then I take it you two threw hands?"
"Pretty much. I landed a couple to his torso and face, but he only got one punch off me, clearly," he says, pointing to his disfigured nose.
"So you threw the last one and ended the fight?"
"That's my story, and I'm sticking to it," he replies.
"What were you expecting to happen?"
He pauses for a second. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I thought maybe he would apologize for what happened or try to tell me some bullshit about how much he changed, but when he kept throwing back drinks, I don't know. I just… lost it."
"I don't blame you. I would have done the same thing," I sigh. "Do you remember the Horrible Bosses movie? The one where the characters fantasize about killing their bosses?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of all the ways he could die in some tragic accident, " I admit. "I wasn't ever big on the death penalty until Gregory crashed into our lives."
"Me too. I probably would have beat him to death if Wally hadn't pulled me off him."
"God, I miss her," I say, the admission tugging at my heart.
"Me too," he says, his soft eyes looking into mine, but just for a second before Dr. Freeman comes in.
"It looks like you've had quite the night," Dr. Freeman says as she reads Derek's chart. Her gentle smile and motherly demeanor always reassure the patients.
"You could say that" Derek chuckles. "Can you make me pretty again?" he asks, pointing to his nose.
"I'll see what I can do," she says as she puts on gloves and turns his gaze towards her while I stop suturing. It's not too bad," she adds, her fingers gently feeling his nose.
"You're not going to like her for about a minute," I warn him.
"Take a deep breath in for me," she says, and Derek does so. "And breathe out."
After a quick pop and a harsh wince from Derek, his nose is back in place as if nothing had happened.
"Son of a bitch!" he groans, throwing his head back against the pillow.
"And that's why I get paid the big bucks," Dr. Freeman chuckles. "When you're ready, I need to make sure everything feels right. I want to make sure you don't need a brace before we turn you loose."
"Why would I need a brace on my nose?" he asks, sitting up again so Dr. Freeman can feel around.
"Well, you don't want the bridge of your nose to collapse on you, do you?" she asks. "Last I checked, the pancake face is only cute on pugs."
"I guess not," he says.
"Lucky for you, it doesn't look like you need one," she says as she throws her gloves into the bin. "It looks like you're back to being a handsome young man. I recommend icing it tonight before bed and again in the morning if the swelling feels too tight, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am," he says with a quick salute.
"It looks like Faith has you in good hands," she says, nodding with approval. She's one of my favorites," she winks before moving on to the next patient.
"She's one of my favorites, too," I grin before getting back to suturing.
"You're really good at that," he says, nodding at my handy work.
"I do my best," I shrug, but my focus wavers as my phone starts pinging incessantly with text messages. My stomach churns: I know exactly who they're from.
"What's wrong?" Derek asks, noticing the worry on my face.
"I'm sure you remember Ryan?" I ask, irritation creeping into my voice.
"Tell me, you're not still seeing him?" he asks. "I thought you left him."
"I did, but he still tries to get me to come back every couple of months. It's ridiculous how stubborn he is," I say, shaking my head in annoyance. The relentless buzzing of my phone only amplifies my discomfort. "Funny how ghosts of the past seem to be a recurring theme tonight."
"If he's giving you a hard time, I can get him off your back," he says. When I look up at him, there's a protectiveness in his eyes that I thought I'd never see in him again. Something is reassuring in his gaze. It's short-lived when my phone starts pinging again, but this time, Derek reaches down to the floor and pulls my phone out of my bag, silencing it.
"Thirty-two missed texts," he mutters, glaring at the screen. His jaw tightens with anger and annoyance, and he continues to read off the number. “Why don’t you change your number?”
“Its not worth it, he will find me, or shows up here and all hell breaks loose.”
"He's exhausting, stubborn, and never stops until it's on his terms."
"He needs to get the hint," he says. Faith, I'm serious. If he doesn't let up, call me, okay?"
"I can handle it," I insist as past guilt rushes to the surface.
The last time I asked for your help, someone died, I think to myself, feeling the guilt resurface yet again.
"Faith," he says sternly this time. Pulling my chin to make me look him in the eyes, I said, "If he tries anything or you don't feel safe, call me right away."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," he nods.
"You might want to make sure you have my number unblocked then," I reply cautiously as I finish wrapping up his wounds.
I can tell he's taken aback by my response. He immediately takes his phone out, finds my contact, and unblocks my number before making sure it's still the same one he has saved.
When I take my gloves off, he says, "Just to make sure," and hands me my phone. "Send me a text," he says.
When I do so, his phone pings immediately, and he nods as he gets to his feet.
"I don't care what time it is or where you are. If your gut tells you that you aren't safe or Ryan does something that spooks you, I want you to pick up the phone." The look in his eyes demands immediate obedience, leaving no room for hesitation.
"Yes, sir," I nod.
"Promise me?" he says, his stern gaze locked with mine.
"I promise," with me heart is being a thousand times a minute, I smile and nod at him.
And in this moment, there's a flicker of the old Derek, the one I've been missing for four years now.
"Thank you," I add quickly, breaking the silence between us.
"I refuse to let anything happen to you, and thank you," he adds, pointing to his carefully wrapped forearm.
I process his discharge papers and send him on his way, all while part of me wonders if there's a chance things could actually go back to the way things were before. Yes, he's protective over me when it comes to a guy he knows has little self-control regarding his anger, but that could just be because I took care of him tonight.
Don't read into it, I tell myself. Just be grateful for it.