Kiwi Rules (New Zealand Ever After Book 1)

by Rosalind James

  “Oh, you know,” I said, wishing my mind was working better and wondering what they’d given me, “hospitals. You must hate them too. Why are you here? Am I on . . . pain meds? I hate pain meds. Why is the room so big?” He was sort of advancing and retreating, and it was making my head spin, so I closed my eyes.

  “A bit,” he said. “On the meds. You’re in the ICU. You’re responding well, though, maybe because I got you here fast despite your serious lack of cooperation. You could be out tomorrow, possibly the next day. Only if you behave yourself, of course, and you so rarely do behave yourself, so . . .”

  I tried to glare at him. I couldn’t quite control my face, unfortunately. “I’m asking them for a . . . toothbrush. I threw up. A lot. So disgusting.”

  “Yeh,” he said. “Never seen anything like it, have I. Sight of my leg the first time, looking like a chewed piece of meat on the bone?” He waved a hand. “Piece of cake compared to the sight of you spewing coffee. Practically had to use the basin myself.”

  “Not a . . . contest. I’m a woman. I’d kind of like to be . . . glamorous just once around you. Or . . . normal.”

  “Think I got that you’re a woman,” he said. “Can’t remember how I discovered that, but it feels like something I know.”

  “Ha ha.” A weak rejoinder, but it was what I had.

  I did feel a little better when I’d brushed my teeth, even though it was hard and made my head swim. The nurse’s aide who helped me do it was Kiwi-cheerful, which was great, since I hated fussing. Was I excited about exposing my half-naked back to Jax? No, but if it was a choice of “naked back” or “spit out toothpaste while he watched,” I was going with “naked back.”

  “Wait,” I said, once she’d left again. Jax had his feet on the floor now and wasn’t reading his book. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was thick. What did he read? Spy stories? True crime? Guns & Ammo? “How come the whole whanau isn’t here? Why don’t I have many . . . annoying balloons?”

  “Mm. Good question. Maybe I thought I’d let you wake up and decide who you wanted to tell, as they told me you weren’t actually dying. You have an issue with weakness, I’ve noticed. Could be you don’t like to worry people.”

  “That’s oddly sensitive. And also cold-blooded. Huh.” Talking was tiring, which was annoying again. I breathed in some more oxygen through my nose, closed my eyes, and took a little rest.

  When I opened them again, I asked, “Where were we?”

  “That I’m cold-blooded. You get what you get. Soldier, eh.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek, and I was extremely glad I’d brushed my teeth. “But thanks for not dying.”

  “You carried me in. I remember that. Thanks, I guess. I hope your leg’s OK.”

  This time, he laughed. “Don’t get all sentimental on me. I could think I’m with the wrong woman.”

  I’d started getting that prickly feeling. I knew that feeling. My blood pressure was dropping. I was going to have to stop talking, or I’d throw up again. “You can leave. I’m fine. You’re not comfortable. I need to sleep.”

  “It’s a recliner. I’ve had base housing less comfortable than this chair. I’ll go get some dinner in a bit, though, and get whatever you want as well, if the hospital’s food isn’t up to standard. What d’you fancy?”

  It couldn’t be time for dinner. I didn’t care. I couldn’t think about food. I closed my eyes again, heard him saying something, and sort of . . . waved it away.

  Pain meds. I hated pain meds.

  Jax

  I rubbed my hands over the legs of my shorts and thought about how she was going to feel when she found out the truth about who I’d told. Then I thought about how I’d felt when they’d been getting her hooked up to an IV, starting to pump antibiotics into her, and transferring her fast to the ICU. I’d followed behind the rolling bed with the bag of her belongings, and she’d lain there with her eyes closed, purple shadows like bruises under them, and her face nearly the color of the pillowcase, then opened them and looked at me, maybe focusing and maybe not, and I’d thought, No. No. After that, I’d watched the nurses come and go, checking on her, had seen her wake up halfway and then fall asleep again, and had tried not to think about how quickly she’d got worse, and how scared I’d been when I’d picked her up out in the carpark.

  Not scared that I couldn’t carry her. I’d known I’d carry her. Scared that I was too late.

  Second-guessing was good for nothing, and “what-ifs” got you nowhere. And still, I wondered why I hadn’t stopped and checked her temperature before I’d got to her grandfather’s, and why I hadn’t moved faster once I had checked it.

  Eventually, I picked up my book again, since there was nothing else to do except listen to the thoughts in my head. I could’ve gone to get something to eat, but I couldn’t tell how she really was, and I wasn’t leaving like that.

  It was only about forty-five minutes before she woke up again. It felt longer.

  “Hey.” This time, she’d turned her head, seen me, and smiled. That was good, or it was bad. She seemed different, but the nurse had told me during her last check that everything was going well.

  My leg had been so much simpler. It had been right there, or rather—it hadn’t. In any case, my wounds had been on the outside, or they’d felt like it. I hadn’t worried that I was going to die. I’d been focusing on not wishing I was dead.

  Also, I was discovering that it was worse when it was somebody else. Somebody who mattered.

  I put the book down. “Hey.”

  “What are you reading?” Her voice was still a little slurred, but stronger.

  I held it up. “Sci-Fi. Near-future. Pretty good.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you read?”

  “Sometimes. Imagination’s a beautiful thing.” She definitely sounded better. “How about you?”

  She smiled some more. Drowsily, but I’d take it. “Not too much. Mostly . . . research now. Or up until now. I guess I don’t need to read research now. That sucks, you know? I have so many things in my head. So much information, and so many ideas. I guess I should let them go.”

  I tried to think of something to say to that, but I couldn’t. I knew how it felt to lose your purpose.

  There was a tear at the corner of her eye, and as I watched, it rolled down her cheek. It wasn’t followed up by any more. She said, “I used to read fantasy. Dragons, wise wizards, young people with powers they didn’t know they had. That was my favorite, especially if the young person was a girl. Sci-fi, too, and romance. I like science. And imagination. And unrealistic scenarios, obviously. What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty. Thereabouts.”

  “Six-thirty?” She tried to sit up, then didn’t. “How? I fell asleep for a minute, that’s all.”

  “No. You didn’t. You’ve been pretty ill. And I should probably tell you that I asked my sister to text Te Mana and let him know.”

  Her mouth opened, then shut. “You said you didn’t.”

  “No. Said I thought about not doing it, but I did it anyway. I didn’t have anybody’s number, and that was the only way I could think of to let your family know. I haven’t heard back, though.”

  She closed her eyes and groaned. “Hope’s probably already halfway here.”

  “They’d have rung me first, surely, for an update. Could be he didn’t see it. Time difference and all, eh. It must be midnight or thereabouts in New York now. You can text him and give him the latest, if you like.” I handed over her phone, which was on the table. “Also, I have your earrings, so you know, and the ones from down below as well. The belly ones. Have I mentioned how much I like those? Hot as hell.”

  She gave me some side-eye, so she was clearly feeling better, even though she was fumbling with her phone, then stabbing at it awkwardly. “OK, first—if you took those out and lusted over me in some weird way in the ER, I don’t want to know. Second, I need you to type this. My thumbs don’t work, or maybe my eyes don’t. Something is definitely not worki
ng.”

  How could she still make me laugh? “Nah. I didn’t take them out, and there was no lusting, not at the time. I let the nurse do it.” I reached into the bag of her belongings and pulled out the packet to show her. “Six sparkly studs, and two little barbells. I have ninety-nine faults, but necrophilia isn’t one of them. You were there. You don’t remember? Give me the phone. OK, we’ve got a message to Hope. What d’you want me to say?”

  “Necrophilia is when you’re dead.”

  “Yeh, well, say it was too close for my sexual tastes. Ready to type here.”

  “OK. Uh . . . ‘Never mind text to Hemi. I’m fine. Got a little infection that is all. I’m only here for a day. Don’t tell Koro. Do not come.’ Put that last part in caps. The ‘Do not come.’ Oh, wait, one more thing. Say, ‘Tell Hemi Jax is as bossy as him and he won’t even leave me alone, so it’s like you’re both here already. I was supposed to be having a rest. I’m having one.’”

  “She won’t wonder who composed it, anyway. That it?”

  “Yeah. Oh—say ‘LYL.’ That’s what we always say. Love you lots. Then she knows it’s me.”

  “Done.”

  “Also, if it’s six-thirty, you should leave and go get dinner.”

  “Maybe for a bit,” I said. “As you’re sounding better. Want something?”

  “A smoothie, if you can find one? Fruit and vegetable something. No yoghurt, and no protein powder. They’ll make me sick.” She sighed. “I hate that I’m saying that again. I hate that I’m asking you. I hate that you think you have to be here. I hate being sick, OK? I’m going to whine for a second. I’m hating this.” Her eyes were bright again, but she didn’t cry, just blinked a few times, heaved in a breath, and closed them.

  I leaned over, took her hand gently, and kissed her cheek, and saw the convulsive movement of her throat. “It’s OK to cry,” I told her. I tried to haul the tenderness back, and then thought, What the hell, mate. You almost lost her today. Harden up and let her know. “It’s OK to tell me, too,” I said. “You think I don’t want to be here. You’re wrong. It’s the only place I want to be.”

  Her mouth twisted, and she opened her eyes, and then she tried to smile. Both of those things had taken guts. “Really?”

  “Really. Seems you matter to me. Not sure how that happened, but it seems it has.”

  “But how can I . . . how can I feel that way? Already?”

  It took me a second. She hadn’t asked me how I could. She’d asked how she could, and something was happening to my heart. “Dunno,” I said. “Maybe sometimes, the pieces just fit.”

  “We don’t even know if our pieces fit. We haven’t tried them out yet. Also, you could have a rescue complex. Or it could be a weird rebound thing. You know, coming back to life and all that.” Her hand was shaking, and I was sitting on the side of the bed now, holding both of her hands. They were cold.

  “Oh,” I said, “I think we know our pieces are going to fit. Maybe you have a rescue complex as well, did you think of that? Could be we match, eh.” I kissed her cheek again, and her hand came up to touch my face.

  She said, “For the record? I think you’re amazing.”

  “For the record,” I said, “I think you are, too.”

  On the way out, I asked the woman at the desk to bring her another heated blanket. I gave them my phone number, too, in case they needed me, and I took Karen’s phone, in case her sister or Te Mana rang back.

  I had a feeling she was dearly loved, and I didn’t have to wonder why. I also had a feeling she didn’t quite believe it, and I wondered why not.

  Jax

  Something was buzzing. A fly. I batted it away and turned in the chair.

  Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

  My eyes opened fast, and I was grabbing for the phone on the table and leaping out of the chair, although “leaping” was perhaps not the exact word. “Staggering” out of the chair could be more like it, but at least I hadn’t fallen over. I never slept in the leg, and I was stiff as hell. I looked at the phone in my hand. It was Karen’s, its case covered with cheerful red polka dots, and the screen said, Evil Te Mana.

  The buzzing stopped and the name went away, and I checked on Karen. She hadn’t stirred, but her face looked peaceful, angelic in a way her mobile features never managed while she was awake. Too angelic for my comfort, except that her blood-oxygen levels and heart rate numbers were displayed right there on the screen, ticking up and down in reassuring fashion.

  The phone started buzzing again. I swore a little internally and headed out into the corridor, limping hard. The rooms here were arranged in a square around a central nurse’s station, and I nodded at the fella behind the desk, then got out of disturbance-range and into the main corridor. “Hello?”

  “Who’s this.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a bark. Ah. Evil Te Mana.

  “Jackson MacGregor. Here with Karen.”

  “She’s in hospital? Why, exactly? Who are you, and where’s Poppy Cantwell?”

  “Poppy’s my sister.” I was starting to see a familiar Poppy-pattern emerging, as in—forgot to send the text for about six hours, or more like—composed it, then forgot to hit the button. “Let me guess,” I said. “You’ve only just heard from her. First off—Karen’s in hospital in Tauranga, in the ICU with sepsis, but we caught it pretty quickly, and she’s responding well to treatment and is sleeping comfortably now. Being checked on regularly, and I’ve been in the room as well. If you check your wife’s phone, you’ll find that Karen sent her a text of her own.”

  “Hang on.” This one was more of a growl. I’d heard of Te Mana, of course. It was hard for a Kiwi to avoid hearing of him, even in Afghanistan. It seemed the reputation was deserved.

  I heard his voice from a distance, sounding different. Murmuring something soothing. Ten seconds later, and the command-voice was back. “Right. I’m looking at it. Seeing that she doesn’t want Hope to worry, which tells me nothing. Explain.”

  I laid out Karen’s injury and illness in a couple sentences, and got some brooding silence in return, until he finally said, “And you’re there why? Where’s Poppy?”

  “Still in Dunedin. Pregnant, and feeling too crook to travel, so I was deputized.”

  “Jackson MacGregor,” Te Mana said. “Jax MacGregor. The model. From the MacGregor family.”

  Ah. Rumor had it he never forgot anything, and rumor would appear to be correct. He also didn’t seem to be a member of my fan club. I was trying not to get my back up, but it wasn’t easy. I said, “She was anxious not to worry her sister. Please assure your wife that she’s recovering well. I’d have her tell you herself, but she’s asleep.” I checked my watch. Midnight. What time was it there?

  “Are you sleeping with her?”

  What the hell? I said, “Not while she’s in the ICU, anyway.”

  “Answering wasn’t optional.” You’d have expected a shout. Instead, he’d got quieter. More controlled. Definitely a scary fella, but then, I was an explosives-disposal expert.

  “I’ll let Karen share the details,” I said. “Or not. I’m looking after her, no worries.”

  He must have realized that he couldn’t actually reach through the phone and grab me by the throat—though I’d like to see him try—because all he said was, “We’ll be there in about twenty-four hours. Karen won’t want to ring Hope back. Tell her to do it anyway, once she wakes up. If she’s moved, or if she’s discharged, ring me back.”

  And . . . call ended.

  The woman was nearly thirty years old, and Te Mana was her brother-in-law, not her dad. What was going on here?

  Karen

  When I woke up to light outside, I felt a whole lot more like a human being. They’d turned down my pain meds, maybe, and judging by the soaking-wet sheets the aide had changed in the middle of the night, my fever had broken, too. I checked my arm. Still red around the edges of the dressing, but not as swollen, and the pink tail was gone. Yay.

  Of course, the second I stirred, Ja
x was sitting up in his recliner, grabbing for his glasses, and saying, “All right?” The same way he’d sat up every time somebody had come in to poke at me during the night. I might as well have Hope here after all.

  “Yes,” I said. “I can’t believe you stayed this whole time. I’m fine.”

  He smiled so sweetly that I melted some. But then, I was weak at the moment. He said, “I’m starting to think you’re getting there. Your brother-in-law rang around midnight. Evil Te Mana?” He raised a dark eyebrow at me. “Scary fella.”

  I pushed the button on my bed to sit up, and it didn’t even make me sick. I needed a shower really, really badly, though. I stank to myself. I said, “I may have been a little annoyed with him when I changed his name in my contacts. Wait. You slept in your leg. Ugh, did Hemi yell at you? You have to yell back. That’s the secret.”

  He laughed. “You are better. The leg? That was in case I had to run to the nurse’s station and pound on the desk for help.”

  He said it lightly, but I looked at him more closely. The dark stubble on his jaw was that much thicker, the lines on his beautiful face carved that much deeper. “Hey,” I said, and reached for his hand. “Thanks. I’ve probably been pretty bitchy. I’m not good at the vulnerable thing. Kind of like you.”

  “No worries. Although I’d just as soon put that episode, the, ah, crying bit, behind us, if you don’t mind. And sorry, but Hemi said they’re coming. He and your sister.”

  I lay back and groaned. “You’re kidding. Didn’t you tell him I was OK? Didn’t Hope read my message?”

  “Yes and yes—or, rather, Hemi read your message. And said they were coming anyway. Why is he so protective?”

  “Ask me an easy question,” I said. “Why is the sky blue? Why does the tide go in and out? Why does a tiger attack? Hand me my toothbrush and my water, will you? And then you should go have breakfast. Also, if they let me out of here before Hope and Hemi come? Let’s hide at your place and not tell.”

  Jax