Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A sharp pain in my chest wakes me accompanied by an incessant throbbing in my skull. My lashes flutter open, the room still dimly lit and the curtains closed to block out as much light as possible. Scanning the room, I see Parker sitting in a chair next to the bed, scrolling on her phone.
Pushing my palms into the mattress, I try to push myself into a more upright position, but hiss as my ribs scream in protest again.
“Let me help you,” Parker says, hurriedly standing from the chair.
I hold up my hand, stopping her in her tracks.
“I got it,” I tell her, straining on the words, my throat still like sandpaper.
Her jaw clenches. “You don’t.”
Before I can argue, a soft knock sounds at the door before the doctor steps in, tablet in hand, his expression calm.
“How are we feeling this morning?” he asks, stopping at the end of the bed.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” I mutter.
He doesn’t smile.
“That’s not far off.”
Parker adjusts herself in the chair beside me, arms tight to her chest. The doctor moves to my right, flipping through my chart.
“You’ve got three fractured ribs on your left side.
No displacement, which is good. Staples in the back of your head–four of them.
They’ll come out in ten days.” He gestures vaguely toward the base of my skull.
“You sustained a moderate concussion. Memory gaps are normal, headaches, nausea, light sensitivity. If you experience worsening confusion or vomiting, I want you back here immediately.”
Parker shifts uncomfortably next to me. From the corner of my eye, I see her tug at her shirt sleeves and hug herself around the middle.
“Now other than that, all your imaging came back clear of any internal bleeding or broken bones. Your blood work came back normal as well. We’re going to discharge you, but I must stress the seriousness of your injuries.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow it down. Unable to get any words out, I nod as the doctor speaks.
“You’ll need to have someone with you for at least the first few days,” he continues. “No driving. No alcohol. No strenuous activity. And absolutely no being alone if you can help it.”
Parker stands, her hands tightening around the edge of the bed rail.
“She won’t be alone,” she says immediately. I don’t miss the edge in her voice.
The doctor studies her for a second longer than necessary.
“Good,” he says finally. “Given the circumstances, we’re also documenting this as an assault case. The police will likely be contacting you to follow up.”
Parker and I share a look, both of us knowing that the police won’t be necessary.
“Understood,” I say quietly.
He nods once. “Give us about thirty minutes. The nurse will bring you the paperwork and after care instructions.” He steps toward the door and pauses.
“And Ms. Steele?”
My eyes meet his. They soften slightly around the edges.
“You were lucky.”
He exits the room, the door softly closing behind him and I let out a shaky breath.
Lucky.
The word makes my stomach twist. Parker exhales slowly, like she’s been holding it since he walked in.
“You don’t got this,” she mutters, throwing my words back at me.
“I know,” I admit softly.
Her eyes drift to the back of my head.
“Four staples,” she says in disbelief, shaking her head.
“He must’ve hit me with something.” My hand mindlessly lifts to the spot that hurts the most. My fingers graze the wound, and I yank my hand back down.
“Last year, when I was taken,” she starts, lowering herself to the edge of the bed. “I ended up with a severe concussion.”
My stomach knots. She ended up telling me about her past and how she ended up in Oregon, but she’s kept it vague. I’d never push her to give me details about what she’s been through, so I sit quietly.
“Probably wasn’t even my first. Just the first that was caught.” Her voice breaks, and she swallows. “You scared the shit out of me, Ash.”
This isn’t about Owen. It’s about how close I came to this being much worse.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Sorry for scaring her, but mostly sorry that this is bringing up old wounds for her.
“Don’t,” she snaps. She reaches out and cups my face, avoiding the bruising. “Don’t you ever apologize for someone else attacking you.”
That shuts me up. Her shoulders drop a little.
“You don’t get to try to downplay this okay?” she adds. “This is serious. Let us help you.”
I nod in agreement. She knows me too well; knows that I would rather suffer than bother anyone with my problems, but she’s right.
A nurse enters a little while later with a wheelchair and pushes it to the edge of my bed.
“I can walk,” I protest weakly.
“No, you can’t,” Parker says immediately, shooting me a warning look.
The nurse smiles at her approvingly.
“Hospital policy.”
The two help me sit up slowly. My ribs protest, my head swims, and the room tilts slightly before righting itself. Parker sees it, and her hand goes to my back in a flash.
“Easy.”
I hate that I need help, but I do. The nurse settles me into the wheelchair and hands Parker the discharge folder.
“She’ll need to be supervised for at least the next forty-eight hours,” the nurse says firmly. “Head injuries can be unpredictable.”
“Of course. I’ll be with her,” Parker tells her without hesitation, then looks at me. “I’m going to go down and bring the car to the front. Wait right here.”
I nod, the nurse smiles, and Parker exits the room.
“I’ll be right outside at the nurses station if you need me dear,” the nurse tells me, rubbing my shoulder. She exits and takes her seat behind the desk in the center of the hallway.
The hall hums with quiet movement–a cart rolls by, someone laughs softly down the corridor. The world continues as if nothing happened.
I sit there, hands folded loosely in my lap, staring at the far wall. My ribs ache with every breath, and I just want to get back home and go to sleep.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my hoodie, folded over the back of the chair, and I flinch at the sound. Everything feels louder now. I don’t reach for it. I just close my eyes for a second and try to breathe. Footsteps approach and stop outside the door, followed by a soft knock.
Looking up, I see Andy leaned up against the door frame, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, expression drawn tight with concern.
“Heard you were here,” he says softly.
Relief washes over me before I can stop it. I thought for sure when I stepped away from Jack and Melissa, Andy would walk too. I haven’t heard from him since the gala, and I had let go of the idea of him still being in my life after.
“Word travels fast I see,” I murmur. “How did you hear?”
Stepping into the room, he shrugs.
“I stopped by the casino, thought we could grab some lunch and overheard some busy body waitresses talking about an attack. When I couldn’t find you, I put two and two together.”
He gives me a small half-smile and steps closer but not too close.
“You look…rough.”
“Feel worse,” I reply, wincing as I try to adjust myself in the chair.
His gaze flicks to the back of my head briefly, then back to my face.
“You breaking out of here?”
I nod. “My friend went down to pull her car in front.”
“I can walk you down.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I don’t mind waiting.”
“Nonsense. Why make her walk back up here when we can meet her?”
I chew the inside of my lip, then nod.
“Okay.”
He smiles approvingly as he walks around and settles his hands lightly on the handles of the wheelchair.
“Let’s get you home.”
After gathering my things, he pushes me out of the room, the wheels gliding silently over the polished floors.
The nurse looks up over the desk as we pass, and I wave before she looks back down at her computer.
Stopping at the elevator, it chimes softly and Andy backs us in.
The doors slide shut and he shifts beside me.
“I’m really glad you’re okay,” he tells me, his tone heavy.
The small space feels tighter than it should, and the elevator starts to descend. My heart pumps harder behind my aching ribs, and my head pounds.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
There’s a faint brush at the side of my neck–quick and sharp like a bee sting.
“What-?”
Warmth spreads outward from the spot, and the overhead lights begin to blur. My limbs grow heavy.
Andy’s voice is the last thing I hear, distorted as if he’s underwater.
“And now thanks to Karson,” he says lowly, closer to my ear. “I don’t have to kill that asshole for nearly killing you.”