6. Cassie
CASSIE
Jagger was asleep when I got to his room, his short hair dark against the pillow, his face a mess of cuts, two of which were covered by small bandages. A machine stood next to his bed, an IV line running from the white box to his hand.
I walked toward the bed quietly, not wanting to disturb him, and eased myself onto the edge of the bed, but he didn’t stir, and I remembered what Doctor Sterling had said about sedating him.
I didn’t mind. I was just relieved to see him, to see the rise and fall of his chest, the tattoos that covered his upper body partially obscured by bandages.
His right forearm was covered too, but this dressing was gray, maybe something special to treat the burn Doctor Sterling said he had on his arm.
I itched to touch him, to reassure myself that he was real, and I hesitated, then reached out to lay my hand on the side of his face.
His skin was warm, stubble scratchy against my palm. I knew exactly how it felt against my cheek when he kissed my neck, and the fact that I’d come so close to losing him almost brought me to my knees.
The door opened behind me, and I turned to see a young woman in pink scrubs enter the room.
She smiled, her brown ponytail bobbing as she headed for the machine next to Jagger’s bed.
“Sorry to disturb you,” she said, her voice low. She made some adjustments on the machine next to the bed. “We’re going to start ramping his meds down a bit.”
“Will he be in pain?”
“We’ll do our best to prevent that,” she said, still looking at the machine. “We’re just looking for that sweet spot where he’s conscious but not hurting. We’ll see how he’s doing with this in the morning.”
Now I understood why she spoke so softly: it was the middle of the night. The hospital was like a box in the middle of the universe, a place where there was nothing but white walls and floors and the smell of antiseptic, time meaningless.
“Thank you,” I said when she was done with the machine.
She smiled. “Try to get some rest.”
The door closed behind her and I was once again cocooned in the room with Jagger. His face was turned away from me.
I took his hand, was relieved to find it warm and familiar.
“You’re going to be okay,” I said, stroking the back of his hand with my thumb.
I was surprised when he moved his head, turning toward the sound of my voice.
His eyes were still closed when he mumbled something I couldn’t make out.
I leaned in, straining to hear.
“Love… you.”
I kissed his hand. “I love you too. So much.”
He relaxed back onto the pillow with a sigh, and I held his hand a while longer, waiting to see if he would wake up. After a while I finally rose to my feet, leaning over to kiss his cheek before slipping from the room.
Bram was there, leaning against the wall outside Jagger’s room. He’d been following me around all night, keeping a respectful distance while I visited Vigo and Jagger but making it clear he wasn’t leaving me alone anytime soon.
“He good?” Bram asked about Jagger.
The Hawks were still a sore subject and Bram had taken to using a kind of shorthand to discuss their condition in the hospital, like it was easier to pretend I was in love with someone else, some generic guy (or three) that he didn’t know.
We’d have to talk about it eventually, but now wasn’t the time.
“Hard to say. He’s pretty out of it.” I looked around. “Where’s Maeve?”
“Went home to feed Ray,” Bram said.
Ray was the stray dog Bram had rescued for Maeve back when he’d been on his apology tour for acting like a total jerk.
He did that a lot.
Acted like a jerk, that is. Not apologize. Although he was getting the tiniest bit better at that thanks to Maeve.
He ran a hand over his short dark hair. “You should get some rest. I could bring you back to your place and stay while you shower and sleep. Or you could stay in one of the guest rooms at the loft.”
I shook my head. “Not until I see Hawk.”
“He’s not allowed visitors.”
“Would you let that stop you if it was Maeve in the ICU?” I asked.
He hesitated, then swore under his breath. “Let’s go.”