Chapter 11 Creed
Creed
“I’LL SHOW YOU A FUCKING MASTERPIECE.”
TWO DAYS LATER
Collins is fucking pissed at me. I hate to admit it, but it’s kind of cute.
The reason why is far from it, but I can’t help but adore her little pout as she glares daggers at me from across the room.
She put me in a literal timeout after the shit I pulled yesterday, and truth be told, I deserve it.
I’m just glad she didn’t kick me out of the room altogether.
I’d rather be in her presence while she’s spitting mad than to spend another second away from her.
I’m currently on her shit list because I lied to her the other night. She asked me to take her to see Riley, and I told her I would. I was just an asshole and didn’t specify when. It wasn’t with malicious intent, though, I swear it.
Riley was in isolation to keep the transfer of bacteria to a minimum, so he was only allowed medical staff and one guest in his room, and that was me.
I even had to wear this ugly, disposable gown thing, complete with gloves, shoe covers, and a mask.
Not to mention, he was barely recognizable between the swelling, bruising, bandages, and tubes connected to him.
I didn’t want to send Collins into a panic or cause her to spiral at the sight of him, so I hadn’t even considered sneaking her into the room.
I tried to avoid the topic as best I could when she would ask about seeing him.
She knew I was avoiding taking her over there, and she was not happy about it.
Therapy had come in to assess her yesterday, and after they’d cleared her to get up and move around, speech came in and worked with her.
She was cleared for a soft diet, so now she gets all the pudding, jello, and ice cream her sweet tooth desires until the soreness in her throat eases a little more.
The truth is, I’m worried about Collins.
Apart from when she first woke up, her demeanor has been a bit unnerving.
She behaves as if she wasn’t held captive by a psychopath and tortured for two weeks.
She’s had breakdowns, but she bounces back from them like nothing happened, and that is the part that fucking scares me.
I caught Dr. Munn as he was leaving Riley’s room and asked him if I should be concerned.
He’d just told me that trauma patients can be known to compartmentalize and “lock away” memories, that it’s their brain’s way of protecting their being.
He’d just advised me to not push the subject of what happened and to live in the moment with her.
That was another issue. Part of me wants so badly to know what happened. But a larger, more selfish part of me doesn’t want to know because I don’t think I could stomach the story of what happened to her and Riley without breaking down again, or tearing the world apart brick by brick.
So here I sit in the corner of Collins’ room in time-out, watching as Ayla paints her toes an electric pink color, while Collins focuses on painting her own freshly trimmed nails a pearlescent shade, as a form of therapy to work on her grip again.
Ayla had brought all the supplies a few days ago, but Collins didn’t get past painting her pinkie before exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.
The two of them now sit and talk and chatter about anything and nothing all at once.
Asher and Blair left with Bear to meet with Cortland about hiring a new band manager.
B might be new to the band, but I trust his and Bear’s judgement infinitely more than I ever trusted Tony or Steve.
While it is important for me to be there to meet the prospects, not a goddamned thing is more important than Collins and Riley right now. Or ever.
Nope, I’m keeping my happy ass planted right here in this very chair until Collins decides to forgive me.
Collins finishes painting her nails and holds them up. Her hands are slightly shaky, but she admires her handiwork while Ayla fans her toes dry.
“Can I see how they turned out, Stardust?” I ask, hoping she’s at least a little less pissed at me for lying to her about seeing Riley yesterday.
“That depends. Can I see Riley?” she snaps back, her beautiful face practically glowing with sass and contempt. So that’s a no.
As much as I want to pout, I can’t help but marvel at my girl from across the room.
Her voice is slowly coming back, but she sounds ten times more rough and raspy than before.
I dont care, though, so long as she’s speaking to me at all.
The swelling of her eye has gone down, too, and the bruises have started to fade.
The cut on her lip has scabbed over well enough that it doesn’t make her wince when she speaks, and truly she’s never looked more beautiful than she does right now.
Her eyes are so full of emotion and fire, and some color has returned to her cheeks.
I love her fire. I love how she calls me out on my shit. I just love her.
I do feel bad about not being truthful when it comes to when I’d take her to see Riley, and I owe her an apology for causing that kind of hurt.
Before I can open my mouth to say a word, Ayla stands from the bed and collects the polish in a tiny bag before hugging Collins and turning to me. My girl lowers the head of the bed and turns her back to me as she lays down, facing away from me.
Still not forgiven, then.
“Can I talk to you for a sec?” Ayla murmurs as she passes me on her way to the door.
I nod and follow, shooting a text to my dad to bring some necessities to Collins’ room before I take her to see Riley. I pocket my cell, casting a look at Collins from across the room before exiting the room. Once in the hallway, Ayla turns and trains her dark, furious eyes on me.
“Why the fuck did you do it, Creed?” she whisper-shouts at me, and I rear back.
“I’m sorry, why did I do what?” I cross my arms over my chest, playing dumb. I know exactly what I did, but I’m not in the mood to play nice with anyone who isn’t my girl right now.
“You know exactly what,” she hisses, not buying into my bullshit.
She smacks me in the arm with her little nail polish bag, her eyes widening at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“You don’t have a goddamned clue what that girl went through.
None of us do. But what we do know, is that she was fucking traumatized by watching one of the men she loves nearly die right before her eyes. More than once.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “How do you know that?”
Her shoulders deflate a little as she looks away, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s one of the few things she actually talks about with anyone.
It’s like that’s all that mattered to her.
Riley’s safety, I mean. Always so criminally selfless.
That girl is now bonded to Riley in ways that we can’t even begin to imagine.
She loves him. She’s worried sick about him.
She’s fucking terrified that he’ll be taken away from her again at any given moment.
” She looks back to me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Can you imagine being kept from the person you love when you’re so desperate to see them again?”
She’s fucking joking, right?
“Yes!” I bark at her, and she jumps, startled by my outburst. “Every goddamned day for two fucking weeks I felt that pain, Ayla. Every. Single. Day. I didn’t have a fucking heart to beat in my chest until I laid eyes on them again with the accompanying knowledge that they’re alive—hearts still beating within their chests. ”
I spin away, running my hands through my hair before turning on my heel to pin her with a glare again. “And before that, you saw how I was out of my goddamned mind for two years. Two. Fucking. Years before I found her again. So yes, Ayla, I can imagine.”
The woman before me squares her shoulders and manages to look down her nose at me despite being several inches shorter. “Then why lie to Collins?”
“I didn’t fucking lie to her.” Lie. The bitterness of the word coats my tongue, but I plow on.
“I hoped I could take her to see him yesterday, but I didn’t want to trigger another episode by seeing him looking like a fucking corpse in the hospital bed two doors down.
Not to mention they kept him in isolation until about an hour ago, so they wouldn't have let her in anyway.”
I swipe a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots. “I know I should’ve been honest with her when I knew she couldn’t see him, but have you ever tried to tell Collins bad news?”
Ayla ponders that for a minute before biting her lip and shaking her head.
“That’s right, you don’t,” I deadpan. “I can’t stand to see the look of hurt on her face when I have to tell her bad news. I know it fucking backfired on me and I have to go make it up to her.”
“How?”
“Well for starters, Riley is no longer in isolation and should be waking soon, so I’m taking her to see—“
I’m cut off when the haunting sound filters through Collins’ door.
Ayla’s eyes widen into saucers in shock and panic, but I don’t have time to worry about her reaction when I leave her alone in the hall and rush back into Collins’ room.
I come up short when I realize she’s not in bed.
I look around frantically for her. Alarms are blaring in the room, but it’s nothing compared to the sound of Collins’ low cry echoing off the walls around me.
I spin on my heel, darting toward the bathroom, where the sound is coming from.
“Collins?” I call out to her, but I’m answered with nothing more than a sorrowful, rasping moan. My heart cracks in my chest when I reach the door and the sound of her heavy sobs fills the space. I rap against the wood, “Stardust?” Another broken cry.
The nurse and a younger girl in scrubs come rushing into the room, but I hold up a hand to stop them when they dart toward the bathroom where Collins is hiding.