68. Chapter 65
Mari
“ S he’s not fucking conscious, that’s why,” a voice growled beside me.
I knew that voice.
“I think it’d be best if you blokes came back another time,” a second voice said with a tone that didn’t leave much room for disagreement.
Other voices, maybe two or three, were mumbling low enough that I couldn’t hear.
The door slammed, the sound echoing in my throbbing head.
“Fucking inconsiderate pricks.” That was JJ’s voice.
The storm clouds in my head cleared ever so slightly and I opened my eyes. It felt like dragging sandpaper over my eyeballs, but I was awake.
I was here.
I was alive.
“Hey, darlin’,” the other voice said to me, leaning over the bed to look down at me.
Al .
“Lynnie!” JJ squealed before throwing himself on top of me.
I sputtered a cough as I tried and failed to force air into my lungs with a gigantic man on top of me.
“Jesus, JJ, get off her. Poor thing already has a concussion—she doesn’t need to have her lungs collapse on her too,” Al said, grabbing onto the back of JJ’s shirt.
“Where’s Chance?” I rasped. Al handed me a plastic cup of water.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking. Only gave me forty-two stitches and a giant-ass lecture when I discharged against medical advice to come up to your sleeping ass.” JJ’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but he didn’t meet my eyes.
“Where is he?” I asked again, taking another sip of water. The cold liquid was so soothing on my dry, aching throat that it tasted like God himself had poured it straight from his sacred fountain.
“He’s still in surgery,” Al said softly, brushing the stray curls off my face. He smiled sympathetically at me, sadness swirling in his hazel eyes.
“Wh-Wh …” I sputtered.
JJ sighed and looked up at the ceiling. I would have thought he was putting on the theatrics, if I hadn’t seen the single tear that slid down his far cheek.
He sat on the bed, lifting my clean hands into his. There was a cannula on my right hand, and two heavy gold rings on my left.
One was a sleek gold band, with patterns on it that were giving me a deja vu. The other, I’d recognise anywhere. The band thickened at the peak of my finger then dropped slightly for the engraving of letters.
DCM
M
An extra ‘M’ had been tagged beneath the initials of Chance’s family. My heart swelled and my throat closed up. I looked to find JJ staring down at the rings, his jaw locked tight, lips tucked to the side.
“He took a pretty brutal shot to the gut,” JJ mumbled, clearing his throat. “Docs said they would do everything they could, but that there were no guarantees.”
“That was three hours ago,” Al chimed in gently.
I slipped my hands from JJ’s and pushed myself up. My ribs ached and my shoulders throbbed, but I needed to go. I needed to get to him.
“What’re you doing?” JJ asked.
My head felt as if someone had blown up a too-big balloon inside my skull.
“Take me to him.” I lifted a leg to slide off the side of the bed, gritting my teeth at the agony it delivered into my ribs.
“Lynnie, he’s in surgery. I can’t .” His voice broke.
“Then I can’t sit here and wait. Take me as far as you can,” I demanded. A groan slipped past my lips, but I was sitting up.
“Mari.” Al placed a firm hand on my shoulder and gently tugged. “You won’t be any good to him if you don’t get yourself sorted.”
“But—”
“No ‘buts,” he stated. “I told the same thing to your dad. Many times.”
That hit me in the gut as hard as Randy’s boot. I sighed and nodded to JJ, who scooped an arm under my knee and lifted my legs back onto the bed for me.
“Where’s Nan?” I asked.
“Right here.” Her sing-song voice floated in like a ray of sunshine as her head popped around the door.
Her face filled with relief, though I could see the mascara smudges behind her glasses.
Her long hair was out, tucked behind her ears that were, for once, earring-less.
Wearing a pair of navy blue three-quarter length sweatpants and a loose grey T-shirt, I don’t think I’d ever seen my grandmother look so casual.
Tears stung my eyes at the sight of her, and she let out a choked laugh as she pushed the door open.
My father trailed in behind her. His big smile was nearly as lively as Nan’s, until he cast a glance over my tenderly sore face.
No matter how unwell he was, he was still Elijah Trevino—one of the scariest fighters to ever walk the octagon .
His eyes darkened to that murderous black I knew as well as looking in a mirror.
“Hi, Dad,” I whispered.
~
“Lynnie. Lynnie, psst, wake up.” A frantic shaking of my non-injured shoulder had me startling awake.
“Shit, JJ.” I rubbed at my eyes, urging my heart to slow the fuck down.
I’m okay.
I’m still okay.
It was just JJ.
“Sorry, Lynnie. But we’re sneaking outta here,” JJ whispered, looking over his shoulder to the sleeping crew at my bedside. “Now be quiet before you get us caught again.”
He scooped a hand under my legs and pulled them upwards before slipping a hand around my shoulders. In a slow, quiet movement, he sat me up.
“It was not my fault we got caught last time. You were the one who let the wind catch the door,” I whisper-argued.
The dark blue woolly socks maintained warmth in my feet when JJ helped me onto the floor, both of us glancing left at the oldies still snoring away on the other side of the bed.
Nan’s head was resting on Al’s shoulder, while Dad’s head had fallen back over the chair he was in.
His mouth was wide open, little snores escaping every few breaths.
“You were the one who thought hiding behind the TV was a bright idea,” he replied with a swift shake of his head.
“You hid under the stairs! That’s even more obvious!” I hissed.
Feeling like I’d done five hundred rapid kicks, my legs dragged and protested at every painfully slow movement.
Not to mention the headache that had now returned with a bang.
With the painkillers worn off, a rave of post-concussion aches bounced around inside my skull.
JJ’s arm was around my back, holding me as steady as possible and trying to take some of my weight.
My jaw creaked when I gritted my teeth and continued to move forward. But I didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop.
“Did you have to park the wheelchair half a kilometre away?”
“Beggars don’t get to be choosers,” JJ reminded me. “Besides, I know your stubborn ass would rather crawl to that wheelchair than let me carry you to it.”
I gritted my teeth, knowing he was right. My refusal to accept help had come back to bite me in the ass again.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said quietly. Just a few more steps. I could make a few more measly steps on flat ground, right ?
“Of course, Lynnie.” JJ, surprised already by my acceptance of his help—let alone my gratitude, softly smiled down at me. My heart ached at that. He’d risked his life to come and save me, and he was surprised I’d recognise him helping me from my bed into a wheelchair?
“Not just for helping me out of the bed,” I continued.
“Well, I went and heisted a wheelchair too.”
“You know what I mean, J. Thank you for coming to save me.”
“Don’t sweat it.” He shrugged. “I just wanted those fuckers out of my house.”
Catching onto the humour he was using to put a wall up around himself, I didn’t push it any further. There would come a time when we would talk about what had happened, all of us, but that day wasn’t today.
I plonked down in the fabric seat and swallowed the breath of relief that filled my throat. JJ quietly opened the creaky door, using my meal tray to prop it open while he pushed me through.
I shaded my eyes with my hand immediately, the dimmed white lights around me burning my eyes and every inch of my skull. It was an effort not to bend at the waist and hide in the folds of my hospital gown.
“Sorry, Lynnie,” JJ mumbled, picking up his pace.
“It’s … it’s okay. These lights make me feel like someone’s shot me in both eyes.” The joke fell flat as a high-pitched ding sounded and JJ pushed me into an elevator.
Silence filled our ride before another ding and JJ was pushing me out again. There were less lights on this floor, but more beeping and scuffling of people. With more space between the doors on this level, there didn’t seem to be any visitors floating around.
JJ pushed me alongside the nurses’ desk where an older lady with smooth brown skin and short ringlets of jet-black hair gave him a bright smile.
“He’s just gone back to sleep.” She swung around the side of the desk, passing by us. “He was asking for you, sweetness,” she cooed down at me.
Chance, my Chance, was alive . My throat welled with a spaghetti ball, millions of emotions tangling and knotting together.
The relief, god the relief. A shimmer of light zinged through my chest, a broken part of my soul kneading itself back together.
After all, if my Chance was alive, there was no need for it to be broken.
“He’s okay?”
The pretty nurse opened her mouth to speak when JJ interrupted.
“He’s alive. That’s what matters,” he finished quickly.
She read whatever look JJ was giving her before smiling. A smile full of pity and sympathy that I’m sure she’d mastered from years of using it. “Absolutely. He’s been asking for you, Ms Trevino.”
“Mari is fine,” I said softly, channelling every ounce of energy into urging someone to take me to him.
Him .
My heart thrashed inside my chest, pumping over double time in anticipation, angst, and overwhelming relief.
“Where is he?” I croaked.
The nurse, who’s name badge read ‘Effie’, waved a hand for us to follow.
The rubber wheels of my chair grumbled and squealed a little on the shiny floors. We passed door after door after door. Two cops rounded a corner and gave us a nod in passing.
“Here we are!” Effie beamed, pushing the door open to poke her head in before allowing us to enter. “She’s here for you, honey.”
And then he was in front of my eyes. Pale, bruised, and hooked up to more lines and wires than I could identify. But here, he was right here.
I dug my fingernails into my palm—urging my subconscious to wake me right here and now if this was some cruel joke it was playing on me. Pain flashed, here in the flesh, and I grinned.
JJ pushed me up next to the bed before taking a seat on the other side. Chance’s hand, the one that was closest to mine, had an IV line running fluids into it. I brushed a finger over the purple bruises on his knuckles, the rest of his hand starkly pale in contrast.
“Hi, darling,” I whispered, a soft request for him to open his eyes.
The ocean in his eyes was cloudy and hazy.
Slightly puffed circles ringed just below his lashes.
Little red veins rushed to support that warm lagoon I’d grown to love more than the sea itself.
Those little creases below his eyes appeared and I glanced down to his mouth, where a drug-hazed smile tugged his lips up.
“I found you,” he rasped, clearing his throat. His fingers, despite being pale and bruised, were warm. They pushed through mine and tender comfort wrapped my chest in a warm embrace.
Home. We’re home .
“I think I’m the one who had to find you.” I smiled back, unable and unwilling to fight it off. Moisture burned my eyes and my smile wobbled.
“No … no …” he started before looking over to JJ. He smiled brighter. “JJ, I found her, man. I told you, she’s my sunshine. I’ll always find her.”
“Think I found her for you this time, man,” JJ replied, patting Chance’s forearm.
“No, no. I found you.” That dopey, drug-induced grin focussed its grip on me and violently ripped down my wall. “I found you. My sunshine. My beacon home.”
I lifted our linked hands to my face. When his scent hit my nostrils, my eyes couldn’t hold more water if they tried.
When the familiar smell of mint and home found me, tears fell freely down my face.
It wrapped me, every part of me, in an embrace so tight and warm.
A cocoon of love and light and liberation; my heart no longer hurt.
It had no reason to, not when the other half of it was right here before me.
“Sunny baby, why are you crying? I found you. Aren’t you happy I found you?”
I was caught between an ugly, sobbing cry that was sure to make Chance reconsider his decision to wake up, and a laugh.
I, apparently, opted for both. “O-of course I am. You found me,” I repeated, smiling down at his high-as-a-kite worried face.
“I told you I would. No one believed me.” He pouted.
“I believed you. I’ll always believe you,” I defended.
He paused, as if one of the clouds had cleared and he remembered.
I believe you. I’ll always believe you .
“Yeah, you do, don’t you?” The look he gave me was coming straight from his heart, a look so full of love and adoration, it pushed more tears from my eyes.
“Can I get in on this?” a misty-eyed JJ joked, though I noticed he had Chance’s other hand in his.
“Thank you for what you did.” His smile was still happy, dopey, and pain-free, but a heavy weight dropped in the room at his words.
What he did.
I was confused and felt like I was still missing half of what happened that night. I looked to JJ for an explanation, figuring I was unlikely to get a straight answer with the state my Chance was in right now.
His face paled and his eyes darted away from both of us. Despite the obvious discomfort, his grip stayed firm on Chance’s arm. “No need, mate. But just do you know, I’ll be telling everyone back home it was me who got shot,” he replied, cool and crisp.
Anyone else would have seen JJ just being JJ; funny, straight to the punchline, always good for a laugh.
But a darkness hung heavy in the room. The ghost of the last three days stood tall in the doorway.
It sat casually in the chair next to JJ’s, sucking what little life we’d managed to regain.
It loomed over Chance’s bed, a reminder that things had come so close to being incoherently, painfully different.
But while the reaper draped a black void around us, we weren’t alone in the abyss—we had each other. Always and forever, we’d have each other.
So, we sat quietly together. We all pretended not to notice the ghosts swarming the room, or the darkness-incarnate who clung tightly to the hopeful and relieved emotions buzzing around us.
It plucked those strings of emotion like a tightly wound guitar, playing a symphony of grief, fear, anxiety, and anger for the three of us.