28 present and accounted for
I come back to consciousness a little bit at a time. Everything’s so hazy at first that it seems like another dream, but eventually my brain comes online enough to let me know this is probably the real world.
I’ve been dreaming for a long time, it feels like, but nothing made sense. It was all just images along with a perpetual, crippling sense of anxiety.
The first thing that occurs to me is that I’m not hot anymore. If anything, I’m cold. My body feels heavy and disconnected from my brain, though. When I try to move the blanket that’s covering me, all my hand does is fumble.
My surroundings come into focus more slowly than my consciousness did, but eventually I figure out that I’m in a hospital room. I’ve never been in one before, but the dark, sterile atmosphere and constant gentle beeping doesn’t leave me with any other options.
Then I see Gray. He’s sitting to my left in a stiff-looking armchair, with his head propped up on his left hand and his eyes closed, breathing slowly.
His right hand is dangling, and when I focus on it, I realize his fingertips are grazing mine.
My senses are returning to me one at a time, and my sense of smell seems to wake up abruptly at the thought. With no warning, my nose is flooded with his scent.
Protectprotectprotect is what the scent reads as.
Protect me.
Every inch of me relaxes. I even notice the beeping from the monitor slow down.
This is it. Whatever was happening before is over, and I’m safe now. I don’t have the energy to sort through my memories and worry about the details. Gray is here; everything is going to be okay.
I’m staring at him, so I notice the exact moment he wakes up. His eyes flutter open first, revealing eyes like two dark lakes, then his awareness hits, and he looks at me, sitting up in his chair.
At first, he looks stressed, but it only takes a moment for his brow to smooth out and a small smile to take over his face as he leans towards me.
“You’re awake, sweetness. You look much better. How do you feel?”
“Uncoordinated,” I say, realizing immediately how sore my throat is.
Gray notices as well and leans forward, grabbing a big plastic tumbler with a straw sticking out of it and holding it out for me to sip. It takes a little shuffling for me to lift my head, and for just a moment, I have a paranoid flash that something is going to turn out to be horribly wrong.
They always do that in movies. The person wakes up in the hospital bed, but it isn’t until they try and move that they realize their leg is missing, or there’s a giant surgical incision over their heart.
I didn’t feel any specific pain when I first woke up, apart from a dull headache and now my throat, but a hundred fragments of movie scenes flash through my mind in an instant, and I look down at myself to take stock.
I’m covered in a thin blanket, so I can’t see everything.
And my legs have some kind of giant, inflatable socks on them, which is disconcerting.
But I can see all four limbs present and accounted for, and I don’t have any gaping wounds that suddenly scream for attention.
The throbbing in my skull is manageable, and my throat probably hurts more than anything else, now that I’m thinking about it.
Gray must notice my confusion, because he gently taps me and shakes the straw, reminding me to take a sip.
It’s a little like swallowing glass, but it gets better with every second that passes.
Once I’ve drunk something and he puts the tumbler back down, he helps me adjust the pillows so I’m sitting up on the bed.
“Do you remember what happened?”
His voice is soft and gentle, but he doesn’t manage to fully disguise his concern.
I groan a little, because unfortunately, I do remember what happened.
“I’m assuming I was knocked out at some point during that fight with Dad because that’s the last thing I remember. Did I die or something? This hospital get-up seems pretty high-drama.”
That gets a whisper of a laugh out of Gray, even though he looks exhausted.
“No, sweetness. You didn’t die, thank god. You were knocked unconscious—” he doesn’t mention who knocked me unconscious, because he knows I know, but he does make a face, “—and Atlas called an ambulance. You had a moderate concussion, which needed to be monitored,
but it was the heat that really concerned them. You were too unstable and they were worried your body couldn’t handle the heat and the head injury at the same time, so they made you sleep for a few days until you evened out. Once they were able to stop your heat, your brain healed,
and they said you were ready to wake up. Your throat probably hurts because they put in a tube for you to breathe.”
The pain is etched on his features, like he’s not even trying to hide how agonizing it was for him to watch. Which makes me feel a torrent of conflicting emotions that I’m not able to sort through right now.
“Is Atlas okay?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
Gray nods. “He’s completely fine. Not a scratch.”
“And you?”
He’s sitting in front of me, not looking injured, but as I’m thinking about it, my memories of the fight are firming up, and Gray definitely couldn’t have come out unscathed.
“I’m fine, sweetness,” he says with another gentle smile.
His large hand finds mine, and I squeeze it until he feels more solid to me. There are bruises on his knuckles, but he doesn’t mention it, so neither do I.
I consider asking about Dad. I want to know what happened to him, but I’m worried to ask.
Like Gray will think I’m some weak, fawning victim who’s desperate for their attacker to be okay.
I’m not completely blind. Dad went so much further than I ever thought he would, and I sure as shit want him punished for it.
But he’s still my dad. I want to know he’s not dead.
After a tense silence, Gray seems to read my mind the way he does so often, and offers up the information without waiting for me to ask.
His voice is hushed, like we’re in church discussing a demon. And he doesn’t let go of my hand.
“Frank was a little bruised, but got fixed up at the hospital right after the fight. Nothing serious. He was charged with felony assault and battery, I think. The DA is taking this case seriously and seems to want to make an example out of Frank,
but we all know the court system tends to go soft on alphas in these situations. Consider it a ‘family matter’, as if that fucking means anything.”
Gray pauses, and I can hear the venom in his voice. It’s clear he’s brimming over with anger and working hard to keep himself under control.
I appreciate it. I’m too tired to be angry on my own behalf right now. Gray is always right behind me, though, picking up the slack.
After a deep breath, he keeps talking.
“He was arraigned and released until his next hearing. The judge did agree to issue a Peaceful Contact Order, at least. Considering your injuries. Which means Frank can talk to you, but if he tries to get violent again or even verbally abusive, he’ll go to jail for the duration of the trial.”
I nod, but don’t say anything. It’s a lot to take in.
“Not that I’ll ever let him near you again.”
Gray pins me in place with his gaze as he says it, and I realize all at once that the days of pretending this is nothing between us are gone.
It’s too much to take in at once, though. I don’t even know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know where I’m going once the hospital lets me out. Last Ditch would be farther from Dad, I guess. But the thought of going back to school after all this makes me kind of nauseous.
“Don’t worry, sweetness,” Gray says, his face softening as he squeezes my hand again. “We can worry about everything later.”
We.
I pause for a minute, but then realize I can’t keep running away from every little thing that scares me. It’s not like running has gotten me very far.
“Are we a ‘we’?” I ask him, making a point to hold his gaze instead of looking at the ground like a coward.
Gray blows out an agonizingly slow breath but doesn’t look panicked.
“I’d like to be. I know this has all been strange, and I’m too old for you. But none of that changes how I feel. Right from the start, my body told me that you were someone I needed to protect. Every day since then, it’s been driving me crazy whenever I’m not with you.
I’ll respect your decision if you don’t want me back, but I’m not going to pretend that this isn’t what I truly want anymore.”
I don’t say anything. I think my mouth is even hanging open. It’s not that I want to say no. The more I think about it, the more I think we might have been a little scent-bonded, right from the start. My body is screaming right now, calling me an idiot for not throwing myself into his arms.
I’m scared, though. So, like always, I freeze.
Gray is trying not to show anything on his face, but I can see the heartbreak there, sitting just beneath the surface.
He sighs and lets go of my hand, moving to stand up. I reach for him, but he shushes me.
“It’s alright, I’m just going to tell the nurses you’re awake.”
But before he can get to the door, it opens, and a woman with red hair and a gentle omega scent walks in, iPad in her hand.
“Well, look who’s awake. Perfect timing. Have the nurses been in to check your vitals yet?”
She’s speaking to me, but I’m still too foggy to put words together, so Gray answers for me.
“Not yet, doctor. He just woke up a moment ago, I was just about to tell them.”
“No problem,” she says, sticking her head back out the door to say something muffled, presumably to a nurse outside.
When she comes back inside, she takes a seat on a small stool she pulls from the corner and looks me in the eye. Her expression is neutral, but she doesn’t have the same simmering disdain as Doc Watts always had, or the bone-deep aura of exhaustion that the clinic doctors always carried.
We talk for a few minutes. She repeats a lot of what Gray already told me and checks I don’t have any unexpected symptoms. We get to the end of everything casual, and then her eyes flick to Gray.