“Muscular damage such as this, while obviously not desirable, is reparable. The wound on her upper abdomen was our main cause for concern. We performed a CT scan which confirmed internal bleeding. The knife entered through the upper abdomen, just beneath the ribcage, penetrating her liver and gallbladder. The damage to her liver was extensive.” He paused. “She went into cardiac arrest during surgery due to blood loss, but we were able to resuscitate her.”
Maria ran over to a nearby trash can and threw up, and Holly was deathly pale. Dalton’s breath came hard and fast, and I felt like I had been hit by a truck which had backed up and run me over again, just for good measure. Maria rejoined the group, looking green, and Holly embraced her.They stood there, clinging to each other for support.
Dalton finally broke the silence. “So, she’s going to be okay?”
The doctor hesitated. “Unfortunately, that is up to her. She also had a partial shoulder subluxation, meaning her shoulder was just barely in her socket. A concussion, and then there’s the bite wounds. We’ve done all we can for now. Her liver has been repaired, but we had to remove her gallbladder entirely. Her shoulder has been put back into place, and she is on medication as a precaution against brain bleeds and swelling, as well as to reduce any fever or infection. I wish I could tell you more.”
After speaking with the doctor, Maria begged to see Nicky, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. A few people left after we had gotten the update, but several of us stayed. We looked like one sorry bunch. Jackson sat on a bench, and Holly curled beside him, resting her head on his lap. When he leaned down and whispered something in her ear, she turned her face until it was hidden from view, but her body shook with silent sobs.
Maria stepped away to call Diego, and I heard him tell her that his mother was on the way to watch the kids, and he would be there as soon as he could. Dalton and I sat in one of the many small and uncomfortable plastic chairs, and neither of us said a word.
Maria came over and sat next to me. “Diego is going to bring you a shirt. She’ll be okay.”
I hadn’t even noticed the blood covering me. Her blood. I just nodded my thanks, but all I could think about was how I never had the guts to tell her how I felt.
Chapter 12
I woke to the sound of a very annoying beeping. The unfamiliar room was dark, and I looked around to get my bearings. Now that I was awake, my whole body ached, and I shuddered as I remembered why. Daniel, in my apartment. The glint of a knife. My blood, a shocking red against the grey carpet. My heart pounded in my chest, and the stupid beeping machine, which I assumed was a heart monitor of sorts, started beeping faster. I took a few calming breaths, but then I saw Mac and Dalton. The panic still hummed under my skin, but the sight of them… it quieted the noise, just for a second.
My boys.
Mac was asleep in a tiny chair by my shoulder, his arm stretched out on the bed with his hand inches from mine. His head lolled at an awkward angle. He must have fallen asleep while holding my hand, an unexpectedly sweet gesture. Dalton was in another chair, this one only slightly bigger, by my feet. His back was to me, and he faced the door like he was on guard duty. But he had his hand on my ankle, and from his vague outline, I could see that he was reading. The spine of the book was just about discernible from where I lay. My heart cracked open when I realized it was the Hemingwaystories I’d bought him.I tried smiling again, but felt my lips crack.
“The world breaks everyone,” I rasped, my voice little more than a breath, “and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” I wasn’t even sure he could hear me. I hadn’t understood everything I’d read, not really—but that line had buried itself in my chest and made a home there. I hadn’t read it for me. I’d read it for him. Maybe I hadn’t understood Hemingway. But I was starting to understandhim.
Mac lurched to his feet, immediately adopting a defensive position, while he tried to figure out what had woken him. I laughed, or tried to. I sounded more like a cat hacking up a hairball, and I found out that laughing hurt like being stabbed all over again. Dalton came up beside me as Mac leaned over, his eyes desperately searching mine. I could see the fear and the worry in his dark blue eyes, and both he and his brother were sporting some serious under-eye bags.
Dalton smoothed my hair back from my face, and I leaned into his touch. “There’s our girl. How are you feeling, Vixen?”
Mac pressed a button on the wall. “Someone should be here soon, baby.”
I smiled at him. “Oh, so it’s baby now? Careful, I might start thinking you care about me.”
When neither he nor his brother laughed, I looked between the two of them. They looked about as bad as I felt. Rough stubble lined their jaws, their hair was a mess, and their clothes were rumpled.
I went to sit up and couldn’t stop myself yelping as the wound across my stomach pulled tight. There was an excruciating throbbing across my abdomen as well, and it radiated from my side. Dalton immediately reached for me, a strong hand on my back. Mac grabbed my hand.
“Tell us what you need.”
Oh my God, it hurt unlike anything I had felt before. It made me think of the first time I’d gotten shot. I panted. “Help me sit up, I can’t stand lying down like this.”
Mac sat on the bed next to me, pulling me into his chest and letting me use him for support, while Dalton gathered every pillow he could find and arranged them behind me. With a press of a button, he raised the back half of the bed until it was more chair-like.
Tears blurred my vision by the time I relaxed back into the pillows and I whimpered—despite their gentleness, every small bump just really fucking hurt. Mac scooted his giant frame further into the small bed, squeezing himself next to me. I pressed up against his side, and he put his arm around me when I buried my face in his shirt. Dalton was rubbing my back soothingly and I tried desperately to focus on anything but the agony racking my body. I didn’t even bother looking up at the knock on the door.
A sweet, female voice said, “Well, good morning everyone. Isn’t this a nice surprise?”
I wanted to tell her that I very much disagreed with her choice of words, but I didn’t dare move. The throbbing was finally starting to subside, and I was afraid it would come back if I so much as looked at her. I heard her fiddle around with the machine around me, and then felt her mess with the IV in my hand.
“Alright, I’ve paged the doctor, and he should be here soon—but right now, I need to get some vitals.” The room was dead silent, and I opened one eye to see her looking at Mac expectantly. “Sir, that means you need to move. Please.”
He didn’t, his arm still around my shoulders.
I sighed, wincing as I turned to her. I held my stomach like I could possibly keep a hold on the pain, but the pressure made the knife wound hurt as well.
“It’s alright, I’m okay. Let the nice lady do her job.”
Mac frowned at me, and I did my best to give him a reassuring smile. He grumbled as he went to go stand by his brother’s side. The two of them stood at the side of the room in an identical stance—their arms crossed, their legs shoulder-width apart. My own personal guards. I winked at them, trying to get them to relax. No such luck.
