Rare (20 page)

The nurse pushed the stool closer to the bed. “Sit,” she said sternly. “I’ll be back soon.”

She left, and I was briefly alone with Pete until the next nurse came in. My heart ached as I watched over him. He was battered from head to toe. His right eye watered constantly, still sore from the dust and debris of the accident, and his arms, already burned and bruised, bore fresh wounds from the IVs he’d torn out during his brief, pain-filled moments of consciousness before surgery. Even his breathing was off, hampered by the massive incision his hospital gown covered.

It was like the worst dream I’d ever had. I was horrified, and yet I couldn’t look away.

Sometime after dawn, a raspy moan startled me out of my daze. I leaned over the bed and searched Pete’s face for signs of pain. It was the third time he’d groaned. Each time so far, he’d had me fooled, but this time, I got the shock of my life.

His eyes were open.

“Pete?”

He blinked slowly, once, twice. His eyes were empty, sightless and unseeing, like he wasn’t really there, and there was no recognition as he stared at me. I leaned farther over the bedrail and tried again. “Pete?”

His eyes closed in answer. Beside me, the nice nurse put a hand on my arm. I hadn’t heard her come in. “He’s had a bucketload of morphine, honey. You won’t get much sense out of him for a while, but keep trying. He can probably hear you.”

She left, presumably to fetch a doctor. Pete’s eyes fluttered again. My heart jumped as he swallowed and tightened his fingers almost imperceptibly around mine.

“Ash?”

I squeezed his hand and touched his face, grazing my fingers over the dark stubble dusting his jaw. “I’m here, Pete, I’m here.”

“Mag… gie?”

I sent a silent prayer of thanks up for Joe and Danni. It was only because of them I had a clue where Maggie was. “She’s fine. She’s at our place with Joe and Danni. She’ll be back in the morning.”

Pete frowned. I’d said too much. I’d given him too much information, and he couldn’t process it. He shifted slightly and blanched. He opened his mouth to warn me, and for the second time in as many days, he rolled over and puked on me.

I held his head until it eased. A nurse I didn’t recognize came in to help, but Pete fought her as she tried to force him onto his back. His face screwed up in pain, and when the gown that covered his torso rode up, I saw why. A long line of stitches was covered with a large dressing, but all around it, I could see the sickening swathe of bruised skin had expanded onto his back.

“Leave him.”

The nurse made a noise of annoyance. “He’s better off on his back.”

“
No
.” I took her hands from his body. “Leave him alone.”

The nurse sighed and backed away. “Fine, but when the doctor comes in, he’ll have to move.”

She flounced from the room. I didn’t care. She was a nurse, and perhaps I should’ve trusted her, but I trusted Pete more, and I didn’t have it in me to force him into something that caused him pain. I pulled the blanket back over him. “Easy. Lie how you want.”

There was no response, but he was still for a while after that, and he seemed more comfortable on his uninjured side. A doctor came in and checked him, and despite the evil nurse’s threat, he didn’t make Pete move. I changed my shirt by the side of the bed, mourning the warmth of Joe’s old hoodie, and settled back in my faithful stool.

“Ash?”

I leaned over the bed, ready to move if he puked again. “I’m here.”

“Maggie?”

“She’s at home.”

“Mick?”

That was a new one. I felt a surge of relief that I didn’t have to tell him Mick was dead after all. “He’s fine.”

“Ash?”

“I’m right here, Pete.”

“Maggie?”

I sighed, pulled up a stool, and prepared to go back to the beginning.

T
HE
REST
of the day was much the same. Pete had brief periods of consciousness, but they were cruelly interspersed with painful bouts of sickness. The doctors said it was a common reaction to anesthetic and would ease, but it didn’t let up until he’d had a third dose of anti-sickness drugs and morphine. By then he was so stoned it was difficult to tell if his lack of lucidity was due to his head injury, the obvious pain he was in, or the hard-core drugs.

Every conversation started the same. He said my name, and then Maggie’s. When he was satisfied with my answers, he paused before he asked for Mick, like he knew he hadn’t asked the right question. I dreaded the moment he asked for Tim.

Maggie came back around noon, Danni too, but the doctors limited their time in Pete’s room to five-minute bursts. They waited outside for most of the day until Danni once again took Maggie home to our place.

The evil nurse returned in the evening. She smirked when she saw Pete on his back. As she’d predicted, eventually he’d had to roll over to accommodate the doctor, and he’d passed out before he could move himself back.

Bitch.

Pete stirred, muttering. The sharp lines of pain had eased from his face for now, but his usually warm complexion was tinged with gray. I caught the nurse’s eye as she scribbled notes at the end of the bed. “Morphine is like heroin, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but we keep it locked up.”

A flicker of suspicion crept into her gaze. It wasn’t quite what I meant, but I didn’t have the energy to be offended. I didn’t know jack about a lot of things, but I understood the effects of opiates all too well.

I stroked the side of Pete’s face that wasn’t bruised. “Do you still feel sick?”

“Mmm. Can’t believe… take… this for fun.”

I took some comfort in the fact he seemed to know what I was talking about. Then he shifted again, like he couldn’t get comfortable, and the moment passed.

“It’s too loud.”

“What is?”

His eyes fluttered open again. There was a long pause while he considered his answer, but the combination of a serious blow to the head and a system full of morphine had left him confused. It wasn’t long before he forgot what he was trying to say.

It was painful to see him so disoriented. He could be a real asshat when he was grouchy and tired, but whatever his mood, he was always sharp. It hurt to see him without a tangible grip on reality.

I rubbed his shoulder. “Roll over. Get on your side the way you were before.”

He obeyed, shifting over with a groan, but it was obvious he had no memory of the way he’d been lying before, or the fight he’d put up to stay there.

“There you go,” I said when he was as comfortable as he was going to get. “Stay still for a bit.”

“What’s… up with your shirt?”

“You puked on me.” I fingered the weird hospital-issue blue shirt I was wearing. It was the third one I’d been through, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

“You look like a nurse.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

There was a pause while he tried to answer, but again, he blanked out before he could think of one.

“Where’s Joe?”

“He’s around here somewhere.”

“Did I puke… on him too?”

I tried to smile. “Only once. Don’t worry, he’s used to it.”

It was true. It wasn’t the first time one of us had puked on Joe. He seemed to get the worst end of everything. I remembered the night I’d coughed a lungful of blood onto his new sneakers. I’d bought him a new pair, but that day still stuck in my mind. I remembered staring at him and struggling to comprehend why he was there.

“Ash?”

Startled, I opened my eyes. I hadn’t noticed my head drop. “What’s the matter?”

“Tired.”

I sighed. “I know you are. Sleep, it’s okay.”

Pete fumbled until he caught my hand. He licked his dry lips and it seemed to take him forever to figure out what he wanted to say.

I nearly cried when he did.

“Not me… you.”

Was he fucking kidding me? He had a serious head injury, a fresh surgical incision on his belly, and he was worried about me? “Pete, I’m fine. Just rest. Don’t worry about me.”

I should’ve known better than to argue with him. He was off his head on morphine, but he was still a stubborn asshole, tugging on my hand until it dawned on me that he wanted me to put my head in the space between his body and the bedrail. I lowered the rail. “You better not fall out.”

He made a noncommittal noise, forcing his eyes to stay open until I was where he wanted me—slumped forward in the crook of his curved body with my head on my arms. Then he sighed quietly and closed his eyes. He dropped a heavy hand on the back of my neck, and I let the pulse in his wrist lull me into a weird kind of doze.

L
ATER
THAT
day, Joe brought Maggie back to the hospital. I sat with her for a while, until she persuaded me to take a break.

I stepped out into the corridor, lost in thought, but as I passed the waiting area, I felt the stares of the small group of men from Pete’s firehouse. Mick told me most of the station crew didn’t give two shits that I was Pete’s lover, but their poorly concealed curiosity got under my skin. Mick seemed so sure it wasn’t an issue, but the fact that none of Pete’s colleagues had been anywhere near his room said a lot. Besides, whatever Mick thought he knew, Pete had kept us a secret for a reason. With that in mind, I put my head down and slipped past them.

Despite my initial protests, I took advantage of the room Ellie had arranged for me and took a hot shower. I stared at the bed for a moment. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t bring myself to stay away long enough to grab a proper nap. Instead, I pulled on some clean clothes, brushed my teeth, and headed on back.

I pushed open the door to Pete’s room. Maggie was gone, and in her place, Ellie’s father, David, was waiting for me. Danni was there too, but she excused herself. She squeezed my arm as she passed. I tried to ignore how normal her touch was beginning to feel as David’s piercing gaze made me squirm.

“Hello, Ash.”

“Hey.”

David lowered the thick file in his hand. It was wishful thinking to hope it wasn’t Pete’s. “How are you doing, son?”

I stalled, running my gaze over Pete. He was on his side, asleep, his face peaceful and smooth, and he looked as comfortable as I’d seen him so far. “I’m okay.”

“I thought you might say that.” David slid his glasses down his nose as a ghost of a smile flickered over his face. “What about Pete? How’s he doing?”

“He was talking earlier. That’s good, right?”

“It’s encouraging,” David said. “Does he remember what happened?”

“I haven’t asked him.” I shuddered, reaching for Pete’s hand. The magnitude of the train accident scared the hell out of me. Though I knew it wasn’t quite what happened, I couldn’t handle the image of an L train barreling into him… of him lying underground, bleeding and broken, the only soul left alive.

David turned a page over. “It says here his blood work is all good. The damage to his liver has been repaired. Barring any complications, he should make a full recovery from the surgery.”

I pulled up my faithful stool without comment. I’d heard all this from the other doctors; he wasn’t telling me anything new.

“I suppose it remains to be seen if he can recover from this blow to his head. Head injuries can be funny things: unpredictable and unique to the individual. It takes all a person’s inner strength to recover. Which is a good thing, Ash, in this case. Pete has tenacity on his side, at least.”

“Tenacity?”

“Determination,” David said. “I saw how hard he fought for you. He’s strong, make no mistake, and with injuries like this, every resource counts.”

Easy for him to say, but I got his point. No one had to tell me how strong Pete was. He’d carried me every day we’d been together. “Did he get sick while I was gone?”

“I don’t think so. As far as I know, he’s been asleep the whole time.”

I nodded, trying to work through the fog in my brain and figure out how long it had been since he’d last thrown up. The nice nurse told me the side effects from the morphine would wear off as his body became more accustomed to the drugs. I wondered if he’d have trouble coming off them. I doubted it. David was right; Pete was too strong for this.

“I take it the blonde standing guard is your sister?”

“Yes.” I fought the urge to bang my head on the bedrail. Did I really have to have this conversation again?

David was amused by my clipped answer. “An impossible twist of fate, eh? I think you were owed a good one, son.”

“I guess.” His turn of phrase seemed familiar. I scowled at him, but he paid me no heed. I didn’t see him all that often, but every time I did, he made it impossible to forget the role he’d played in piecing together my sordid past. The dude couldn’t seem to help himself.

“How’s Megan?”

David raised a surprised eyebrow. “Ellie didn’t tell you?”

I shook my head. We hadn’t managed to cover everything we’d missed while she’d been gone. All I remembered from the night of Pete’s surgery was that she’d met someone in California, and her parents were teetering on the edge of divorce. Neither subject seemed a wise one to broach. Megan was the least of my worries, but I needed a break from the medical spiel.

David slipped his glasses back on, his expression hard to read. “Meg is spending some time in a residential center in Malibu.”

I felt my eyes widen. “Drugs?”

“No.” David sighed heavily. “It’s not that kind of place. It’s more of a mental health facility. Megan has some issues she needs to work through. It seems her relationship with Sean was more destructive than we first thought.”

I traced a vein on the back of Pete’s hand, remembering the finger marks on her neck and the distant, broken glaze in her eyes. “Did she hurt herself?”

“Yes,” David said. “You’re probably aware that she’d done it before?”

I nodded. I’d never been told, but I’d seen the scars on her arms. They were familiar—
too
familiar. “Do you know why?”

“Not yet, and I’m not sure we ever will. I suppose we have to accept that we’ve let both of our daughters down.”

“Ellie loves you,” I said absently.