Not being able to see either of them for the first few hours I was conscious had me seconds from snapping. They kept telling me my boys were ok but there was no fucking way I was going to believe it until I saw them. I needed to see for myself, needed to watch the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed because we shouldn’t have walked away from something like that. Especially since none of the airbags in the beast deployed.
It didn’t help that they wouldn’t let Mark, Norman or Justine back to see us, either.
I knew they were here; we’ve all been each other’s emergency contacts forever and the nurses confirmed they showed up butthey kept insisting they couldn’t come back until we were moved into regular rooms.
They still are and I have no idea why.
I’m sure the rest of our family is ready to come unglued.
And I wouldn’t put it past Justine to call in some sort of backup or threaten a lawsuit so they could get through security.
That’s basically what I did.
When they wouldn’t really tell me much about Lucky and Pete, when they refused to let me get out of bed to go find them, I started threatening to call our lawyer because I don’t give a fuck what their reasons are, I needed to see my boyfriends.
Especially when one of the nurses was nice enough to fill me in on what exactly happened.
Basically, the Lambo hit us from behind hard enough to shove the beast into the intersection then a second car, a Viper from what I understand, gunned it through and around traffic to hit us from the right side. What’s weird about all of that, weirder than it actually happening, is the fact that by the time the police showed up, the Lamborghini was gone and whoever was driving the Viper disappeared as well.
Which means not only are the three of us ok, the two fuckers involved in starting the very on purpose accident are as well.
It sounds like the only casualty was that big, beautiful cargo van, and I’m still struggling to wrap my head around how we walked away.
Well, we were wheeled away in stretchers because all three of us were out cold, but still.
The lack of airbags coupled with very intentional hits by other vehicles could have easily meant at least one of us didn’t make it.
We all did, though.
I don’t need to understand how or why, I don’t even need to know what divine power made it so. All I need is the physicalreassurance, the visible confirmation that my boys are alive and breathing, and that the three of us will be walking out of here in a day or two.
“We really know how to party, don’t we?”
We both turn at the sound of that voice, rough and gravely but no less comforting.
I immediately go to get up as a nurse wheels Lucky into the room, our beautiful giant sporting gauze on his head, several cuts on his face, and a fancy new sling and wrap to keep his arm from moving, but when I try, he lifts his hand. “Stay there, baby cakes.”
“Lucius, I…”
I am momentarily speechless.
Two male nurses come in right behind him, pushing a pretty large hospital bed until everyone is in the room.
“Right there, fellas,” Lucky says as he points. “Get it as close as possible, we don’t need our girl slipping through the crack.”
Pete chuckles and I smile as we watch them take the rail off the bed we’re in as well as the corresponding side of Lucky’s before they get them as close as they can, lock them in place, then help our boy into it.
“How did you manage to talk them into this?” Peter asks as I kiss Lucky, who then leans to kiss our boyfriend. “I doubt this is protocol.”
“It’s not.” He grins. “But I’m in pain, loopy as fuck and when I started spitting all the legal bullshit about patient rights and whatnot, apparently I sounded convincing enough to make it happen. Where is everyone?”
Stuffing a few pillows behind and under me so I don’t actually fall through the cracks, I make myself as comfortable as I can between them. “They won’t let them back.”
“What?”
I nod slowly as Pete says, “You can use your legal jargon for that, too.”
“Motherfucker.” Lucky goes for his call light but before he can even push it, someone else walks in.
