6. Jack
JACK
I’m trapped in the deepest well I’ve ever come across. I’m surrounded by darkness except for the circle of light above me. It’s almost too bright, and I don’t want to look at it. Somehow, I know that focusing on it will only bring pain.
I’m not afraid of pain, I tell myself.
That’s true, mostly, but I’ve never experienced anything like this before.
This is the type of pain that makes a person wish for death as it digs its claws into you.
It’s not as powerful as it was the last time I tried to head for the surface, but it’s still there, lingering, taunting me with its threatening presence.
The well hides me from it; the light will bring it back.
I know it in the same way I know that the well is dangerous, too.
Its safety is a lie, but I’m too tired to face anything but this peaceful darkness.
The light is a siren call, though, drawing me in. Perhaps it’s stronger than I am?
The well water must be rising, because it’s lifting me higher, closer to the light. With every passing second, the pain makes itself known to me again. I struggle against it, but I won’t win. It’s crashing down on me, stealing my breath.
I jolt to a new level of consciousness and my eyelids flutter.
Beep, beep, beep. What the hell? Someone make that noise stop.
The light at the top of the well shimmers and comes into sharp focus as I blink again. It’s a ceiling spotlight, one that feels far too bright. I don’t recognize it.
Where am I?
I search my memory for my last recollection, but all I can think of is the girl with the shiny black hair, and the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen.
Camile. Is she here? I remember her putting her arms around me, hugging me tight. She’d whispered something in my ear. Had I been going somewhere? Why had I left her behind? I never want to do that again. I want to keep her with me at all times, so we never risk being separated.
The beeping is filling my head with noise and crowding out coherent thought.
I recognize it, but my brain is too foggy to place it.
I get the feeling I’m not alone, and my thoughts once again go to Camile.
Is she here? Someone is holding my hand, but my subconscious tells me it isn’t her.
I don’t seem to have enough control of my body to make my head turn to look.
“Dad?”
A voice filters through to me. Not Camile, it’s Vani. My daughter. Her voice floods me with warmth and love, and I squeeze her fingers, wanting to reassure her. The pain in her tone hurts me, too. I’m okay, I want to say, but it’s hard to speak.
“He’s awake!” she cries. “Somebody come! He’s waking up.”
The awareness of where I am hits me all at once. A hospital. I’m lying in a hospital bed, and the beeping is the monitors all around me, tracing my heartrate and other vitals. Fuck. That means something bad has happened. Something really bad.
The memories filter back, flitting through my mind like movie montages.
I’d been on a ride out. We were attacked.
My thoughts immediately go to the men I’d been with. What kind of damage was done? Did I lose any of them? My thoughts are too jumbled to be sure what the hell happened. Was Camile hurt?
“Camile…” I force the word through a dry, rough throat.
My daughter squeezes my hand, her touch warm and firm. “No, Dad, it’s me, Ivani.”
She thinks I’m confused—that I believe she’s Camile—but that’s not what I’m trying to say. I want to know… no, I need to know that Camile is safe, and, if she’s safe, where is she?
Other people are in the room now, brought in by Vani’s shout. Nurses buzz around me, checking equipment, then shining an even brighter light in my eyes.
One of them leans over me. “You’re in the hospital, Mr. McGrath. You’ve had an operation.”
The nurse speaks too loudly and slowly, as though I’m an invalid. The tone irritates me, but she’s only doing her job.
I will my body to move, to connect my brain with my arms and legs, and struggle to sit up despite the pain, but a hand presses to my shoulder.
“You must lie still, Mr. McGrath. You have stitches, some that are internal, too. You don’t want to tear them.”
“Jack,” I croak. “Call me Jack.”
No one calls me Mr. McGrath. It doesn’t even sound like my name. Everyone either calls me Jack or Prez.
She pats my arm. “Jack. Sure thing.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“You had surgery, and you’re now back in your room. You were in the OR quite some time. Your doctor will be in soon to explain what happened and talk you through it all.”
I try to look around again. Vani sits on a chair next to my bed. Her face is pale and strained, and she’s clearly worried. I can see she’s holding back while the nurses do their work.
“Where is everyone?” I ask.
The nurse speaks again in that too-loud voice. “You’ve had a lot of people here trying to see you. Seemed like we had a whole biker rally in here at one point. It’s family only right now, though.”
Every word is an effort. “The club are my family.”
“I’m sure that’s true, but we have our rules. Sorry. As soon as you’re a little stronger, we can look at having a couple of people in. Not an entire motorcycle club, though, okay? We don’t have space for those kinds of numbers.”
I’m not sure my guys will pay the slightest bit of attention to their rules, but I keep my mouth shut. The one person I want to see here right now is Camile. Why isn’t she here? Is it just that technically, she isn’t family? Or hasn’t she come for a different reason?
Then I remember, it’s me. I’m the reason she’s not here. Why would she be? I’ve done nothing but push her away, repeatedly. Hell, I’ve done more than that. I’ve pushed her into Ace’s arms. Probably Rook’s and Ghost’s, too.
Before the ride out, they’d all been acting weird. Rook and Ghost were shooting one another strained glances, and Ace and Camile were all sunny smiles that felt too forced when I think back on it.
I lick my lips and swallow down past the raw edges of my throat. Why can’t I remember what happened after that in any detail?
Instead, all I can see when I close my eyes is that dark place I was in before the beep of the machines and the bright overhead lights dragged me back to this room.
The well hovers, still, just out of reach, as if it would welcome me back into that seductive, pain free darkness. I might not remember what’s gone on, or know the extent of my injuries, but I’m pretty sure I just had a brush with death. It puts things into perspective.
I love my daughter with all my being, but when I woke up, there was one name on my lips… on my heart. Hell, she’s damn well stamped on my soul, if I’m honest, and yet she’s not here.
Fuck, I should get over myself and marry that girl.
If she was my wife, she’d be my next of kin, and she’d be right by my bedside, holding my fucking hand.
Even having the thought of marriage is huge for me.
I had a wife, the only woman I promised to love forever, and I let her down.
Let her be in the path of danger, failed to keep her safe.
For a long time after, I half existed, with only Vani and the club to keep me tethered to this life.
It would have been far too easy at times to just end it all, but now there’s someone else, a girl with big brown eyes and a warm heart.
I appreciate Vani being here, of course I do, but my heart aches for Camile.
A single touch from her would take away more pain than all the medication in the world.
But I can’t marry her, for numerous reasons.
Number one, it wouldn’t be fair on her to be tied to an old fucker like me.
Number two, she’s already involved with Ace and Rook, and quite possibly Ghost. And number three, I don’t even know if she’d want me that way after how many times I’ve pushed her away.
The nurse makes space, and Vani moves closer. Her smile is wan, and there’s worry, but also hope in her eyes.
“Can I get you anything, Dad?”
Despite my worries about her rejection, the first words out of my mouth are, “Camile. I want her here.”
Vani glances away, her expression clouding. “She was here, but she left.”
“Why?” My tone is sharp.
“We… err… got into a bit of a scrap.” Her cheeks flush and she looks down at the floor, biting her lower lip.
I can barely believe what I’m hearing. Despite the nurse’s warning, I manage to sit up a little. I’m still in a huge amount of pain, but this latest revelation is distracting me from it. Vani’s choice of words rings in my head.
“A scrap? Not an argument?”
Vani’s chin wobbles. “She started it! She pulled my hair, so I… I might have slapped her.”
She slapped her? Okay, so I taught Vani to be tough, to stand her ground and fight her corner, but Camile is her friend, and a girl who has been through hell.
“What the actual fuck, Ivani?” I glance at the remaining nurse. “Can we have a moment?”
She purses her lips, but after checking my monitors and vitals, nods. “Keep it brief and don’t get worked up. You ought to take it very easy. Press the buzzer if you need me. I am only in the hallway right outside.”
Once she’s left and we have privacy, I fix Vani with the sort of stare that used to have grown men quaking.
“She started it!” she repeats. “You are the one who taught me to always be strong and stand up for myself.”
I ball my hands into fists and fight to keep my voice level. “You are a grown woman, and you sound like a petulant child. Plus, when have you been the kind of girl to slap your friends?”
She twists her lips. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I punched her.”
My jaw drops at the thought. “No, I would not have. But I also don’t appreciate you making her feel as though she had to leave. Fuck. She must be worried. She’s been through hell, Vani.”
This burst of activity suddenly leaves me drained, and I sink back into the hospital bed.
Vani squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to stress you out even more. You should rest.”