Rose (13 page)

H
ours pass
as I continue to sit in the cramped family waiting room. Others come and go. Some even attempt conversation with me but quickly give up when I give only clipped replies. I could give a fuck about discussing the weather or how the Panthers are doing in football this year. Rose is all that I can think about—anything else is just a waste of time.

When Matt finally comes in, I feel a moment's panic before I note his relaxed expression. I’ve been on the receiving end of his bad-news face before, and this isn’t it. I feel some of the tension seep from my back as he sinks into a chair and motions for me to do the same. “She’s going to be okay,” he says without further delay. “She nicked her femoral artery, but thankfully, she didn’t completely sever it. We’ve given her two pints of blood, and I’ve repaired the artery.”

“Thank God,” I sigh before scrubbing my hands over my face.

Before I can fully relax, his tone goes serious. “If you hadn’t found her when you did, Max, we would be having a very different conversation right now. For a woman her size, two pints of blood is a lot. People bleed out within minutes with an injury such as hers. This is twice in a few days that she’s cut herself. The age of her scarring says that she’s been doing this for some time, but I have to believe it’s escalating. Was she upset about anything?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, “but I think so. We went to dinner with friends, and she excused herself at one point to use the restroom. She was gone a long time, and when she returned, it was obvious something had occurred. She blamed it on an upset stomach, but I didn’t believe her. I don’t think her parents have her new cell phone number, but she may have called them for some reason.”

“She needs help, Max,” Matt says bluntly. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but one of my colleagues, Preston Holland, came to speak to me a few minutes ago when he found out that Rose had been brought in. Apparently, he’s a neighbor of her parents. He said that they had called him over twice when she attempted to kill herself as a teenager. The first time, she overdosed on her mother’s anxiety medication, and the second time, she slit her wrists. He was disturbed by how her parents treated the whole matter and was unnerved by their indifference to something he saw as very serious. He said he tried to talk to her father several times about getting treatment for her, but he always brushed it aside as her being difficult and trying to get attention.”

My head is spinning as I remember the scars I’d seen earlier on her wrists. Fuck, she’s tried to kill herself before. Did she accidentally cut too deep tonight or was it her intention to do much worse?
Baby, no.
“I don’t know what to do,” I admit, feeling helpless.

“We don’t have to decide anything today,” he says, “because I’m going to keep her overnight. But we need to be thinking of a game plan. Going by what you and Preston have told me, I don’t know how much help her parents will be. She is an adult, so they don’t have any legal bearing on her choices and care, but they are next of kin. I’d recommend treatment in a facility for at least thirty days, but most people are resistant to that step—especially at first. She needs to have the support of people who care about her and will advocate her getting help.”

I feel more than a little depressed as I say, “Outside of her parents, to my knowledge, she only has Lia, Lucian, and me.”

“Why don’t you give them a call and ask them to come by tomorrow afternoon? We can all get together and discuss the best approach. I’m in a bit of a tricky situation here. I can’t share anything further with you as her doctor, but as your friend, I’ll assist in any way I can. As reluctant as we may be, I need to contact her parents and update them on their daughter’s condition. Just try to make sure you’re here when and if they visit. I’ll keep an eye out as well.”

“Can I see her now?” I ask, needing to reassure myself that she’s okay. I can’t get the image of her lying on the bathroom floor covered in blood out of my head. I’d never seen so much blood. The smell. Sticky. Warm. I can’t get the image of her surrounded by the pool of blood out of my head. Perhaps, I never will.
What is this girl doing to me? I’m not sure it’s good for me to stay …

“Sure.” He nods as we both get to our feet. “She’s probably going to sleep for the next several hours, so don’t be alarmed by that. You should go home and get some rest yourself. We’ll watch over her here.”

I feel my chest tighten as we make our way down familiar halls.
It’s not the same. She’s fine. Keep it together.

Matt stops at a door at the end of the hall. “I going to check on a couple of patients since I’m here, then I’m going to catch some sleep. Give me a call if anything comes up. If not, I’ll see you here in the afternoon around two.”

“I really appreciate it.” I shake his hand before he turns to leave. I walk into the darkened room and am almost relieved. Rose looks like an angel as she lies on the crisp, white hospital sheets. She has an IV attached to one hand and still looks pale. Otherwise, she appears unscathed by what happened earlier. I know, though, that looks can be deceiving, and below the surface, she’s more damaged than ever.

I pull up a chair next to her bed and sink down heavily onto it. I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers before laying my head back. I’m too exhausted to process the events of the last few hours or to contact Luc and Lia, and at this point, I think that’s a godsend. I have no idea what will happen when she wakes, but for now, I can sleep knowing she’s alive to face another tomorrow.

M
y mouth feels
as if it’s stuffed with cotton as I attempt to swallow. My eyes are heavy and fight me as I try to open them. Obviously, I didn’t sleep well last night or I wouldn’t still be this tired. I feel a moment’s panic as I think I may be late for work. I struggle through the layers of fog until I’m finally blinking away the vestiges of sleep. Or so I think. I don’t recognize my surroundings.
Am I dreaming?

The sound of a soft snore fills my ears, and I look around to see Max in a chair a few feet away. His head is leaning back at an uncomfortable angle. His dark hair looks rumpled as if he’s run his hand through it many times. Then another snore, followed by a louder snort, before he sits up abruptly—looking as disoriented as I feel. “What … Rose?” he asks as if searching for some explanation. I hope he finds one because I have no idea what’s going on.

“I think I might be dreaming,” I offer. “I guess I brought you in with me. Where do you think we are? Not exactly a five-star hotel kind of fantasy is it?” I laugh hoarsely.

He gets to his feet and stretches. I don’t know why, but I sense he’s stalling. This is now officially the weirdest dream I’ve had and that’s saying something. Normally, if Max is present, then it at least contains some sexual overtones. But I’m not getting that this time at all.
Shit, did someone die?
He comes to sit next to me, and for the first time, I glance down and see what looks like a hospital bed. There’s also a plastic tube taped to the top of my hand. And what in the hell am I wearing? As if sensing my rising agitation, he puts a hand on my arm to brace me. “Sweetheart, what do you remember about last night?”

“Huh? I … um …” I rack my brain, trying to recall the previous evening. Bits and pieces begin to slowly filter back in, and I am finally able to answer. “We had dinner with Lucian and Lia, right?”

He nods encouragingly. “That’s correct. Then you went to the restroom and something happened there to upset you.”

Even though it’s phrased as a statement, I hear the underlying question. My thought process is still unusually slow as I push myself to remember more. Then it hits me and I’m unable to disguise my quick intake of breath. “I—no, it was just the food. Nothing happened.” Whereas I’d been almost languid before; now, it’s as if all my senses are in a state of heightened overload.
Flight or fight syndrome
, I think hysterically.
He knows what they said. Please, no. Oh my God, what did I do?
I jerk away from his touch, intent only on escaping. I have to get out of here. “Where the hell am I?”

I didn’t realize that I’d asked the last question aloud until Max clears his throat and says, “You’re in Asheville Downtown Hospital. I called an ambulance for you last night after you nicked your femoral artery.” He gives me a look of apology before adding, “Baby, I had no choice. You were close to bleeding out.”

All fight leaves my body. I collapse back against the pillows as I stare at the man who undoubtedly saved my life. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I observe the agony on his face. He looks as bad as I feel. “I didn’t mean to cut that deep, I was just so upset after—” Too late, I realize I’ve as much as admitted that something other than the food got to me last night.

He encloses my hand between his, bringing it to his lips. He plants a soft kiss there then lays it directly over his heart. “Tell me what happened, honey. What drove you to hurt yourself last night? No more lies or half-truths between us.”

I feel the hot tears spill silently down my cheeks as the last of my walls fall away. I don’t have the energy to protect myself from him any longer. Maybe he will think I’m pathetic—but I don’t think so. Something about the way he’s looking at me leads me to believe he cares—possibly more than I’m able to comprehend. The voice in my head is screaming,
you thought Jake understood, too
. But I push it aside. I have nothing left to lose. If I’m going to survive, I have to trust someone, and right now, that’s Max. Taking a deep breath, I begin. “Jake was at Leo’s last night with his girlfriend and another couple. I went to the bathroom to regroup, and I heard someone come in. I didn’t feel like dealing with them, so I planned to remain in the stall until they left. It turned out to be his girlfriend and her friend, I think. And they were talking about me.”

“Fuck,” Max snaps before putting his hand protectively over my knee. “Sorry, please continue.”

“Anyway, the girlfriend was saying how
Jake’s ex-girlfriend was there and how crazy she was
. She mentioned my love of guns and how Jake was terrified of me.” Shrugging my shoulders, I say, “You read about stuff like that, you know. Overhearing others talking about you. I could have lived with the crazy part because let’s face it, I’m a bit out there at times. But when she moved on to me cutting myself, and the amount of scars that covered my body—I’m not going to lie, it got to me, Max. Until recently, I thought Jake was the only one to know my secret. And regardless of what an asshole he ended up being, I never imagined he would share something so private. Not only that, he belittled me to the girl he cheated on me with.” A sob breaks free as I whisper, “How could he do that to someone he supposedly cared about at some point? He knew how terrified I was of anyone else finding out. Yet he told her—of all people. Can you imagine how many others she’s taken great pleasure in sharing my secrets with?”

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry,” Max says tightly, and then he pulls me into his arms. I can feel the suppressed rage in him at Jake’s actions. “I wish you had told me all of this last night. I hate that you had to deal with it alone. I’d like to go find the little fucker and kick his ass. I’ll never let him hurt you again.”

Out of nowhere, a giggle breaks through the sorrow as I picture Max in his impeccable suit wrestling my ex-boyfriend in the street. I have no doubt whatsoever that Max could snap Jake like a twig if he wanted to. I’m just surprised and more than a little moved by the possessive tone that his voice has taken. He gives me a questioning look, probably thinking I’ve officially lost it to jump from tears to laughter in the space of seconds. That’s what he does for me, though. In the midst of the darkness, he brings the light. “It’s nothing. Just enjoying the mental picture of you burying those expensive shoes up my ex-boyfriend’s behind. I gotta say, you’ll need to stand in line. If I ever see him again, he’ll be on the business end of my pistol.”

Max pulls back and groans. “It’s been at least a month since I bailed you out of jail the last time. By all means, do something that will get you arrested again. The police chief and I are getting to be good friends. We’re going golfing next week. And I owe it all to you.”

I stick out my tongue at him, unable to resist this playful side. “So when are you breaking me out of here?” I ask, looking around the dismal white room. Immediately, his expression sobers, and he looks away. I lay a hand over his, bringing his attention back to me. “What? Is something wrong?” The irony of that question isn’t lost on me.
Of course, there’s something wrong. You almost killed yourself.
Have I really gotten to the point that a near death miss doesn’t faze me?
Yes, probably more so than I realized.
Was I expecting Max to take me somewhere for a late breakfast while we laughed off my latest lapse in judgment?

He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking as if he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. I’ve done that to him. I dropped my problems at his door and now he feels responsible for me. Finally, he cups my face in his hands and says, “You can’t continue on like this, sweetheart. I know I’ve said that before, but this is different. I’m very afraid that the next time we end up here, you won’t be leaving with me.”