Chapter Two
Bob
I was getting the fuck out of this hospital soon.
Maybe not today. I wasn’t completely delusional, even if everyone around me seemed to think I’d lost my damn mind when I threatened to leave yesterday. I knew I wasn’t ready to walk out of here on my own two feet, hop on my bike, and ride back to Skull Island like nothing had happened.
But I was getting closer. I could feel it.
Every day, something was a little better.
I could sit up longer without feeling like the room was trying to spin around me.
I could eat actual food instead of having everything pumped into me through tubes.
My voice sounded like I’d swallowed a handful of gravel, but at least I had one again.
The first few days after they pulled the tube from my throat, getting more than a whisper out had been almost impossible.
Now I could talk.
It hurt sometimes, especially when I overdid it, but I could fucking talk.
I could move my arms and legs. I could stand with help for a short time, though I wasn’t going to admit how much that took out of me. The wheelchair was still my main mode of transportation whenever they let me out of bed, which pissed me off, but I was working on it.
That was progress.
Slow as fuck progress, but I’d take it.
I turned my head carefully toward the chair beside the bed.
Skull was passed out with his arms folded across his chest and his head tipped back against the wall. His mouth hung open slightly, and every few seconds, a soft snore came out.
I would’ve taken a picture if my phone wasn’t sitting on the table six fucking feet away.
Might as well have been in another state.
I looked back at the muted television mounted on the wall. Some game show was on that I hadn’t been watching.
I was sick of this room. Sick of the bed. Sick of the smell. Sick of nurses asking me to rate my pain on a scale from one to ten. Sick of getting blood drawn. Sick of doctors coming in and telling me I was doing great while following it up with another list of reasons I couldn’t go home.
More than anything, I was sick of one of my brothers being here around the clock.
They rotated.
Skull took most of the nights, but everyone had been taking turns. Somebody was always sitting in that damn chair. If one of them left, another showed up.
At first, I hadn’t been in any shape to argue.
Now I was.
Skull needed to be on the island. They all did.
We still had a fucking psycho running around, and instead of having every man available, they were spreading themselves thin because nobody trusted me to spend a few hours alone in a hospital.
I understood why, but I didn’t like it.
I knew what had happened to me. I’d nearly died.
There wasn’t any pretending otherwise when doctors had explained exactly how much blood I’d lost or how fucking lucky I was that the blade hadn’t done a little more damage than it already had.
My throat had been slit. I’d lost enough blood that I shouldn’t have been sitting here bitching about hospital food and watching Skull drool on himself.
I wasn’t dumb enough to think I wasn’t one lucky son of a bitch.
I was alive. Bernice wasn’t.
That thought shut down the bitching in my head pretty damn fast.
I looked toward the window.
I wasn’t sure what time it was. Seven? Eight? Time didn’t mean much in here. Meals showed up. Nurses came and went. Doctors appeared whenever they felt like it. Day turned into night and then did it all over again.
I was ready to go home.
I needed to go home.
Not only because I was losing my fucking mind, but because the club had enough shit happening without babysitting me.
Skull shifted in the chair, and his head rolled to the side. The snoring continued.
I smirked. Fucker could sleep anywhere.
A knock sounded against the door, and Skull jerked awake. His arms dropped, and his eyes opened as he sat forward. “What?”
I laughed, which immediately pulled at my throat, and I winced.
Skull glared at me. “Fuck you.”
Another knock came. “Come in,” I called. My voice scraped its way out, rough enough that I hated hearing it.
Skull rubbed both hands down his face. “Could’ve let me get that.”
“Door works the same whether you’re awake or asleep.”
“Smart-ass.”
I settled farther back against the pillows and waited.
Probably a nurse, maybe somebody coming to take more blood. Or check my vitals. Or shove another pill at me. Or ask me when I’d last taken a shit.
There wasn’t much dignity left once you spent enough time in a hospital.
The door opened and Anchor walked in.
That was better than a nurse.
“Hey,” I rasped.
“Looking better,” he called.
“Doubt I can win any beauty pageants now,” I joked.
Skull snorted.
Anchor shook his head and walked farther into the room, but instead of letting the door close behind him, he kept one hand on it.
That got my attention.
“You need something?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“Then why are you standing there like that?”
Anchor smiled.
I didn’t like that smile. “What?”
“We had a surprise visitor show up at the clubhouse last night.”
My eyebrows pulled together. “For me?”
Anchor nodded.
I glanced at Skull. He looked just as confused as I was.
“Who?”
Anchor opened the door wider and Prime walked in.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then he grinned. “Not me, fucker.”
“Then get the fuck out,” I growled.
Prime laughed and moved farther into the room.
Shay stepped in behind him. She smiled at me. “Hey, Bob.”
“Hey.”
She looked good. Better than the last time I’d seen her. Everybody had looked like they’d been dragged through hell yesterday, and from what I’d managed to piece together, they pretty much had.
“You okay?” I asked.
Her smile softened. “I’m good.”
I nodded.
That was all I needed.
Shay stepped to the side, and my interest was officially piqued.
There was somebody behind her.
At first, all I saw was a woman.
Jeans. Dark shirt. Long brown hair falling over one shoulder. Then she took one step into the room and everything inside me stopped.
No.
Fucking way.
She looked different. Of course she did; twenty years had passed.
Her hair was longer. Her face was thinner than I remembered, with little lines at the corners of her eyes that hadn’t been there when she was eighteen. She’d filled out in places that made my eyes want to wander before I reminded myself who the fuck I was looking at.
But I knew her.
Immediately.
There wasn’t even a second of doubt.
Those eyes hadn’t changed.
Neither had the way she stood when she wasn’t sure what the hell she was walking into, shoulders back like she was ready for whatever happened while her fingers worried at the strap of the bag hanging from her shoulder.
I’d seen that a thousand times when we were kids.
“Ramona?”
Her lips curved. “Hi, Ash.”
Prime made a strangled sound behind her.
I tore my eyes away from Ramona and looked at him.
The fucker had both lips pressed together so hard they were almost gone.
“What?”
Prime shook his head.
Shay elbowed him.
He coughed.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” I asked.
Ramona closed her eyes.
Anchor laughed.
Skull looked between all of us. “What the hell am I missing?”
Prime lost it.
He bent forward and slapped a hand over his mouth, but that didn’t do shit to stop the laughter.
I looked at Anchor.
He wasn’t helping.
Shay was shaking her head.
Ramona opened her eyes and pointed at Prime. “I told you to get amnesia.”
Prime straightened. “You just called him Ash.”
“Because that’s his name.”
Skull’s head slowly turned toward me.
I knew exactly where this was going.
“No.”
His eyebrows shot up. “No fucking way.”
“Skull.”
“Your name is Ash?” he whispered.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Ramona cleared her throat. “Technically—”
I pointed at her. “Don’t.”
Her mouth snapped shut, then she smiled.
Fuck, I remembered that smile. I hadn’t realized I did until right then.
“Technically what?” Skull asked.
“Nothing,” I growled.
Prime leaned against the wall. “Ashland.”
Skull stared at me.
I stared at Prime.
“You’re dead.”
Prime laughed harder.
“Your fucking name is Ashland?” Skull asked.
“I swear to God, I’ll get out of this bed just to kick both your asses.”
Prime glanced at the wheelchair parked beside my bed. “That I’d like to see.”
My middle finger went up, and he smiled.
Ramona laughed. That sound pulled my attention right back to her.
She was still standing just inside the doorway, watching me.
The smile slowly left her face as her eyes dropped. I knew what she was looking at.
The hospital gown didn’t hide much of my neck. The bandages were smaller now than they’d been, but there was no covering everything. The healing wound ran along my throat, ugly as fuck and impossible to miss.
Ramona’s face changed and all the humor disappeared.
“Jesus, Ash.” Her voice was quiet.
I hated that more than I hated Prime laughing at my name. “I’m fine.”
Four people in the room snorted.
I glared at all of them. “Fuck off.”
Ramona’s eyes lifted to mine. “You’re in a hospital bed.”
“Very observant.”
“With a wheelchair beside it.”
“Also observant.”
“And it looks like somebody tried to cut your head off.”
Prime choked.
Skull laughed.
Even Anchor’s mouth twitched.
I stared at Ramona.
She stared right back.
Then one corner of my mouth lifted before I could stop it. “Good to see you too.”
Her shoulders dropped a little.
That was when I realized she’d been holding herself stiff since she’d walked into the room.
She moved closer, and my eyes stayed on her the entire way.
Twenty fucking years.
I’d known where she was for most of them.
Not exactly.
Ramona moved around too much for me to always know where she was, but I knew she was safe.
Clint and I had kept in touch, and her name came up. Arizona. Colorado. Texas. Somewhere in the Carolinas for a while. Campgrounds. Seasonal jobs. An RV.
I knew pieces. Enough to know she was alive. Enough to know she was doing okay.
At least, that was what Clint always said.
I hadn’t seen or talked to her in years. And I sure as hell hadn’t expected her to walk into my hospital room.
She stopped beside the bed.
Up close, I could see more of what twenty years had done.
Not bad. Not even fucking close.
Just different.
Grown.