Forbidden Attraction (Forbidden Trilogy) (28 page)

“I will. Your place is lovely. Thank you for the invite.” I turn to leave before more tears make an appearance. As I wait for valet, my mind is flooded with memories of Grayson, along with the realization of how it all came to an end.

I GET IN my car and Imagine Dragon’s
Demons
is playing on the radio. I crank up the volume to curtail the negative thoughts that are looping in my head, but it’s no use. The tears fall harder to the sad lyrics. My vision is cloudy and I need to pull over, but I’m already on the highway. My windshield wipers are working double time to clear the rain that’s falling in sheets; it does little to help me see the road. It’s raining so hard now. I attempt to decrease my speed, but the wheel on the front passenger side seems to be wobbling. Do I have a flat? I don’t have to wonder for long.

I lose control and my car jackknives across the lanes before hitting the median. My car is now airborne and all I can do is brace for impact. I’m thrown around in my seat like a rag doll. The pain is excruciating. I can’t identify which body part hurts the most. Glass flies around me, but I can’t move. The car has stopped skidding and is now resting upside down, idly waiting for another car to take me out. Is this how I’m going to die? I’m pinned to the seat by my seat belt as I wait for the tragic collision from another car or multiple cars.

I feel something wet pooling down my face. The metallic taste alerts me it’s blood. Dizziness begins to compete with my consciousness as the blood rushes to my head from being upside down. I close my eyes to welcome it, if it means that it’ll take the pain away. The outside sounds of the highway begin to fade as I succumb to whatever my fate is.

“Hey, lady. Everything is going to be okay. Help is on the way. Try to stay with me, okay.” The male voice is reassuring, but I can’t see his face. My eyes flutter to stay awake now, but it’s hard. Hopefully his being in the street with me means the threat of other cars hitting me is gone. This stranger continues to talk to me in an attempt to keep me alert.

I can’t remember half of what he says to me or how much time elapses, but finally I hear the sirens. They bring the Jaws of Life in and cut away my seat belt to get me out. The paramedics are careful not to cause further injury and time stands still as they load me onto the gurney. My whole body hurts. At least I know I’m not paralyzed. I want them to hurry and give me some pain medicine. I try to suggest this, but my sentence formation is incoherent even to me. I feel blackness trying to consume me again. They ask me questions to determine my level of consciousness, but I find I’m unable to respond as I lose the battle to stay awake. Finally everything goes black.

I have a brief moment of consciousness when the paramedics unload me from the ambulance. I try to listen as they give a quick rundown my injuries, but other than a fractured ankle, it all sounds like trying to listen to a conversation underwater. The speed they’re pushing my gurney down the corridor gives a hint of urgency. Where are they taking me? I want to tell them to call my mom and Jordan, but again I can’t seem to form any words. I’m brought to a brightly lit room where several hands are on me at once.

They’re cutting my clothes away from my body now and I feel so exposed. There is a room full of people attaching stuff to my arms, my chest, and sticking me with needles. The pain has grown exponentially and it’s harder to breathe. This is it. My time has come to an end. The sound of the monitor in the distance begins to fade slowly, as well as the voices around me. The blackness is back with a vengeance as panic erupts in the room.

“We’re losing her,” someone yells.

“Get the crash cart over here and one milligram of epinephrine,” yells another.

The voices fade away as I once again succumb to the blackness.

I AWAKE TO complete darkness. I can’t see anything, but I hear sniffling around me. Someone is crying.

“It’s okay, Mrs. Sharon. She’s going to be okay. The doctors said she needed time to wake up. They discontinued the drugs that were keeping her asleep. Now we wait.” I recognize the voice as Jordan’s. She must be here with my mom. I can’t see anything because my eyes are closed, but why can’t I open them? I try to speak to let them know I’m okay, but I can’t do that, either.

“My poor baby. I just want her to be okay. She is my world.” My mother cries harder.

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Jordan begins to sob now and I wish I could let them know I’m awake, that I’m okay.

Their voices begin to dim and now I recognize the appearance of the blackness coming to take me under again.
Damn.

I don’t know how many days have passed, but each time I awake, it’s the same. I hear voices in the room—some indiscernible—but I can’t make my eyes open. I can’t make my mouth form words. Finally I’m able to overcome the darkness that’s been holding my voluntary movements and speech hostage. I pry my eyes open only to find I’m alone. The blinds are drawn, but I see the sunlight filtering through the minute spaces. I have gathered that I’m still in the hospital. The wires attached to me restrict my movement. I have an overwhelming sensation to empty my bladder so I attempt to get up. Some sensor must alert the nurse’s station because within seconds a nurse is at my bedside.

“Ah, Miss Gallagher, you’re awake finally.” The dark-skinned woman has the kindest eyes. Her bedside manner is sincere. “We’ve been waiting for you to come back to us. I am Mrs. Durham, but you can call me Trisha. Where are you trying to go, dear?”

“Well umm ... Mrs., I mean Trisha, I really need to go to the bathroom.”

“Do you need to urinate or have a bowel movement?”

“I have to pee.” I attempt to get out of the bed again.

“It’s okay, dear. You have a catheter in your bladder. You can just let go.”

She raises what she calls a Foley bag to show me I’ve already been making urine. Ew, gross. The thought of someone else handling my bodily fluids is just gross. I’m hesitant, but I do as she says. I’m relieved when I don’t feel warm fluid pooling the bed.

“If you need to have a bowel movement, let me know by pressing this button. I will assist you to the restroom.” She points to a white remote that’s attached to my bed. She reaches over to put the rail back up that I’d managed to let down when I was trying to get up. “Make sure these rails stay up. You are under some heavy medications that can cause dizziness. The rails are to protect you from falling.”

“Is that how you knew I was awake?”

“Yes. The alarm will sound at the nurse’s station if you attempt to get out of bed.” So that answers that mystery. “Besides you won’t get far on that ankle.” She pulls the cover back and I notice for the first time that my right leg is in a cast. I feel that my leg was propped up, but Trisha entered the room so fast, I didn’t get a chance to assess just how much movement was restricted. I like her. I would say that she was in her early fifties. Her personality is warm and caring much like a grandmother.

I look at Trisha with curiosity. “Besides the cast, how bad is it?”

“Now that you’re awake, the doctor will come by to explain your injuries. I can tell you though that you have a broken ankle, fractured ribs, a concussion, and facial bruising. You also suffered from a pneumothorax. They had to put a chest tube in to re-inflate your left lung.”

“Facial bruising?” I reach up and feel the swelling to my face and lips.

“Is that the only thing you heard out of that whole list?” she chuckles.

“I promise you I’m not vain. I just wonder how horrific I look right now.” I now feel that my head is wrapped in some type of gauze.

Trisha must see the panic in my eyes. “You had a gash in you head that wouldn’t stop bleeding and required a few stitches, but it’s well hidden within your hairline.”

I sign in relief. Thank goodness. I thought I had brain surgery. I tell Trisha all about my experience of been caught between realms of consciousness and not being able to speak. She tells me I’ve had a slew of visitors and my mom and another young lady just left minutes before I woke up. They were going home to shower and grab something to eat. It’s only now that I see all the flowers around the room.

“I will call them and let them know you’re awake. They wanted to know the minute you opened your eyes.”

“What time is it?” I want to describe Grayson to her to see if he has been by to see me. Does he even know I’ve been in an accident? I don’t remember hearing his voice. I decide not to ask. Some things are better left unknown.

“It is nine thirty, dear. You’ve been in an induced coma for three days. You must be starving. Do you think you’re up for some breakfast?” She straightens the covers over me so I’m all tucked in.

“Maybe just a little. Surprisingly I’m not extremely hungry.”

“I need to put in a call to your doctors and let them know you’re awake. I’ll find out then if there are any dietary restrictions before I order you a tray.” She smiles warmly at me as she heads out the door.

I lay my head back against my pillow, trying to remember the car crash and how it all went wrong. My door opens slowly and I think Trisha’s coming back. My breath leaves me in a rush and it feels like my lung has just collapsed again. It’s Vanessa. Of all the people to come and visit, I’d never guess it’d be her.

“How are you feeling, Siobhan?”

The nerve of this bitch. She is partly the reason I’m in here. “Like you care.”

“Now, now. Pull your claws back in. I come in peace.” She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” She crosses her legs as she takes a seat next to my bed.

“Okay. You’d do well to listen then. I promise you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” she sneers. “It is about me and Grayson. I know he’ll never tell you so I will.”

The nerve of this bitch. Here I am broken and at my worst and she has come to dig the knife just a little bit deeper. A glutton for punishment, I resist calling the nurse to kick her ass out. She knows she’s gotten my attention by mentioning Grayson’s name. My silence is the only encouragement she needs to continue.

“Okay then. Grayson and I have known each other since he was thirteen and I was eleven. Our families are two of the wealthiest and powerful in the Los Angeles area. The expectation has always been that we’d marry. I’ve been by that man’s side through some trying times as he’s been by mine. We tell each other everything. Our connection is impenetrable. You were the first thing he kept from me, but only because he knew I wouldn’t approve. My opinion is important to him as his is to me. Grayson—”

“If you’re so important to him, then why isn’t he with you?” I interrupt. “He says you dated, but it didn’t work out. He says your relationship is strictly platonic.”
Take that, bitch
.