Masterson In Love

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  No, I think it was storming.

  I was in a car. It's not clear if I was driving or riding along, but I know it was moving fast. I hear voices. At first they sound as if they're trying to speak inside of a long tunnel, their voices distorted and distant, but they seem closer now.

  Clearer.

  Louder.

  One of the voices belongs to a man who I think belongs to me, and it grows in intensity after a series of loud booming thuds and clanks.

  24

  Elizabeth

  My head is throbbing.

  This must be what a migraine feels like, because I want to throw my shoe at the lights in this room. It's way too bright in here, and I feel nauseous.

  I try to turn my head to take a look around. From the little that I can see, I notice that this room looks different then the one I was in before. I notice a mini white board on the wall with my first name written on it and some random numbers under it. One of the numbers written is 142.

  Oh my God, is that my weight up there?

  I pretend that I don't see that.

  I can't see much else, because my head and neck hurt like hell, and I seem to be in some sort of hard plastic contraption that is affixed around my neck.

  I can't hear anything, which seems weird.

  No machines.

  No television.

  No people.

  I could hear voices the last time I was awake. I thought I heard familiar ones. So now I'm starting to wonder if I really am awake or am I dreaming?

  Why is there no one here to offer me an explanation?

  My eyes feel extremely heavy now.

  I wish I could stay awake, but it's just too difficult.

  25

  Elizabeth

  It's still so frackin' cold in here, but I think I'm finally starting to remember more. That's the only good thing about the cold. It's triggering more memories.

  I was spinning in a three hundred sixty-degree circle.

  Round and round and round.

  The rain was falling hard.

  Freezing rain.

  My foot was on the brake.

  I was concentrating really hard not to slam on the brakes, but to pump them like my father taught me to do in case my car ever started slipping and sliding in wet weather.

  But the car kept spinning.

  The brakes wouldn't cooperate.

  Not even the emergency brake was working that ... that Blake pulled.

  Blake was with me.

  Wait a minute. Maybe Blake was driving. I'm not sure. I'm still confused. Oh my God, is he okay? Holy crap, I hope I didn't hurt Blake.

  I try desperately to mouth the word Blake. I want to know his condition. Maybe someone will see me moving my lips. Is there anyone in here?

  I notice for the first time that there is a nurse call button in my hand. Someone must have placed it there for me just in case I woke up.

  I press it once.

  Then again.

  And again.

  I'm going to press it until someone comes into this room and gives me some answers. I need answers. I've got a ton of questions.

  How long have I been here? Where is Roman? Why isn't he here? Where's Sloan? Did she tell my parents? Do they know that I'm in here? Someone needs to tell the doctors about my penicillin allergy before they kill me accidentally.

  I continue to fall in an out of a rather loopy state of consciousness.

  Now I understand.

  They must be drugging the hell out of me.

  I'm relieved when a rather obese woman dressed in light blue scrubs enters the room. I can hear her before I see her, because her rubber clogs apparently squeak when she walks across the linoleum floor.

  Her head bends over the bed and above mine wearing one of the phoniest smiles I've ever seen. Her disingenuous expression tells me that she's tired. Like she hasn't had any sleep in a week and doesn't want to be here taking care of me. But I don't care. She's the first human being I've seen since ... since I don't know when.

  "Well top of the morning to you, Miss Hill."

  I try to respond with my own verbal greeting, but I can't talk. I can't even open my mouth.

  "Try not to talk Miss Hill. Your head took quite a beating in the accident, but the great thing is that you only have a concussion. Could have been much worse."

  That explains the raging migraine, but how do I communicate with her?

  "Are you in pain, Miss Hill? Blink once slowly for no and blink rapidly twice for yes."

  I blink twice.

  "You're on a timed morphine drip, but I can call the doctor in to see if we can give you something different or perhaps more frequently. I'm sure everything hurts right now."

  I blink twice.

  "Is that why you called me, Miss Hill? For the pain?"

  I blink once.

  This would be a whole lot easier if I could talk. I'm frightened and alone. Nobody I love is in the room with me. The only explanation I can come up with is that they don't even know anything's happened to me.

  "I'm sure you're terribly confused, Miss Hill. I'll call the doctor in to explain everything to you. Dr. Hammond is on rounds, but he's due to swing by here soon. Don't you worry, I'll make sure you see him. We're taking good care of you."

  I'm frustrated and frightened. I want to ask this nurse a million questions. I don't want to wait for some Dr. Hammond to finally get to me on his rounds. Just one more person who I won't be able to communicate with, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

  One lone tear runs down the side of my face and into my hair. I can't even move to wipe it away.

  God, I miss Roman.

  Where is he?

  26

  Elizabeth

  The next time I wake up, I'm in way less of a fog than I've been in since I've been admitted to the hospital. I'm starting to remember more.

  Things are much clearer.

  And definitely more painful.

  I was in a car accident. An accident that happened after a meeting set with Ethan. Blake was definitely in the car with me, and it happened on a Thursday, although I'm not sure what day it is today.

  Blake and I made it to the diner early that day. Ethan wasn't expecting me to arrive so early. He was already seated at a booth directly across from the same man that I saw at Java with the dead, beady eyes. That's when I knew that something was very, very wrong.

  "Morning, Miss Hill."

  A tall, thin man with a head full of thick, wavy, black hair greets me. He's wearing a set of sea green scrubs with a white doctor's coat on top. The name Jarrett Hammond, MD is written in script lettering on the left hand side, and he doesn't look a day older than thirty even though I'm sure he is by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

  He must be my doctor.

  I remember squeaky shoes nurse telling me that name.

  Dr. Hammond.

  I make an attempt to smile in response to his greeting, but it hurts too much. My head is still pounding, and it hurts when I swallow.

  "My name is Dr. Hammond, and I'm your attending physician. You were in a serious car accident, but you seem to be healing quite nicely. So nicely that you've been moved from intensive care into a regular room. They moved you last night, so that's great news."

  Now that he mentioned it, I did notice the room is different. Not as bright as the other. More cozy touches such as curtains and a printed spread on my bed. I also notice flowers. Lots of them.

  So people do know I am here.

  But where is everyone?

  "I'm sure your head is a little sore. No worries, Miss Hill, things are healing nicely. Let me tell you what's going on all right?"

  I anxiously blink my eyes yes.

  "You were in a car accident ten days ago."

  Ten days!

  "You suffered multiple injuries including a concussion, a severe vocal cord injury, a broken leg, and a few of your toes were crushed as well on that same leg. You've been in intensive care for eight days, m
ainly because of the severity of the concussion and the fact that we couldn't keep your temperature down, then you were in a surgical recovery room for one day, and now you've been in this regular bed for one day.

  "We had to perform surgery on your leg and toes which were crushed badly by the impact of the car pinning you inside, and we gave you a bulk injection treatment in the vocal cord area to help facilitate healing there.

  "You seem to be moving your fingers and the toes in your other leg well, and you seem to have feeling in all of your other extremities, so we are satisfied that you didn't suffer any permanent damage to your neck or spinal cord. You will need to recover from your surgery for a few days, and then go through some rehabilitation for your leg and vocal cords.

  "The best news though is that your baby survived and seems to have suffered no permanent damage by the impact of the crash. It's a miracle really. I'll schedule another sonogram with obstetrics, so you can hear the heartbeat tomorrow, okay?"

  BABY?!

  27

  Roman

  I'm completely mind fucked. Spread across the granite island in my kitchen are the parts to three different pieces. My favorite guns. Weapons that have never let me down and have seen me through some serious shit. I'm wiping each piece down with a soft, white cloth, trying to calm myself down, while Jade pours me a highball of Jack.

  It's almost like déjà vu.

  We've both done this dance before.

  The tiny terror is moving around my apartment very stealth like. Quiet. Calculating. She knows me well. I don't feel like talking, so she doesn't say anything to me. I don't want to even think right now. So she gives me a large drink to numb all of the shit swirling around in my head. I probably should just take the bottle and spare her the formalities of pouring the shit in a glass with some ice.

  While I appreciate that she isn't asking me questions, Jade's silence speaks volumes. It's like a blaring, painful reminder of how my own girlfriend doesn't know me at fucking all. A reminder of how I had no clue that any of this was coming. A reminder of my failures yet again as a man. Her man.

  Doesn't she know I don't like surprises? Doesn't she know that I would put a thousand motherfuckers to ground for her? Why did I let this stupid, not barely speaking "space" shit go on between us for so long. What a waste of time. I don't even remember what the last thing I said to her was.

  I angrily chuck a case of ammo across the room and watch as bullets fly in the air and scatter across my living room floor. Jade still says nothing as she slides the drink slowly towards me and then turns around and pours one for herself. I haven't said much these past few weeks to her or anyone else. Not since I got the call from Joseph.

  "Are you back in town?"

  "Yeah, got in late last night before the storm hit."

  "So you haven't heard."

  "Heard what?"

  "Elizabeth is in Penn Hospital. We're on our way there now."

  He waited for me to say something in response, but all I could hear was heavy silence over the phone and a dull ringing in my ear.

  "Roman."

  I grimaced like a wounded animal but managed to respond.

  "Why?"

  "She's been in a car accident, son. That's all I know."

  I had been having a bad feeling throughout the day. It had been steadily raining and later that night the storm grew even worse as the skies cracked opened wide with thunder and lightning. The roads were a complete mess, and it had been a shitty night for flying or driving. That's why I had flown in the day before from Miami. To avoid the storm. Elizabeth should never have been out in that weather.

  I should have listened to my gut and checked on her that morning when I woke up, maybe even the night I touched down, but I figured I was just anxious because I was missing the shit out of her, not because anything ominous was going to happen.

  The accident happened on a Thursday, a week away from Thanksgiving, and our date night. Under normal circumstances we would have been together all day. I should have been balls deep inside of her, all fucking night, and making her come until Friday morning. Unfortunately a series of stupid misunderstandings left us barely on speaking terms. I hadn't even checked in to tell her I was back in town yet. I will regret that for the rest of my life.

  I've been acting like a fucking imbecile for weeks now. I was trying to basically mark my territory that day when Blake was over the house working with Elizabeth. I might as well have peed around the perimeter of her house. The way I was feeling, if I could have, I would have bent her over her desk, and fucked her hard while keeping the door wide open, so he could watch every stroke. So he would know without a doubt that he had absolutely no chance with her. That she was mine.

  But my plan backfired.

  I didn't expect her to put up such resistance, and when she did, it pissed me more the fuck off than I thought it would. It made me question us. Doubt myself. And I got angry. It was my anger that muddled everything. I couldn't see things clearly.

  I called myself teaching her a lesson by putting her on an extended cooling out period. Especially after she was the one who asked for the space. But now I know better. I was taking our time together for granted. Assuming I'd have plenty more days, weeks, and years with her. Which was stupid on my part, because I know better than anyone that tomorrow isn't promised. Half the guys that I grew up with are either dead, in jail, or on drugs, and they're barely even thirty.

  In a nutshell, I fucked up on several fronts.

  I should have never allowed Ethan or his piece of shit dealer (Shrek) to continue breathing when I first learned about their existence. Then none of this would have ever happened. This shit is on me, and I swear to hell I'm going to fix it.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  I don't actually remember getting in my Rover and driving to the hospital that day. I don't remember if I tuned the radio to my favorite satellite station, or if I ever put on my seatbelt. I don't remember handing the valet my keys at the emergency entrance or if I had my wallet on me. What I do remember is this ...

  Me sprinting through the emergency entrance.

  The old man sitting in the waiting area with his head hung low, staring at his cell phone.

  Seeing Juliette with tears rolling down her face.

  Me thinking that Duchess was dead.

  My heart feeling like it was being ripped completely out of my chest.

  "Where is she!" I demanded to know.

  More frightened than I've ever been in my life. Wanting to hear the answer, but at the same time not really wanting to know.

  "She's in surgery," Juliette said then she ran to me and wrapped her lithe arms around my neck crying softly. "She'll be in there at least forty-five minutes. That's what the doctor said."

  She's alive.

  That was all that I cared about, and is what I gratefully asked with a whisper next to Juliette's ear. "She's alive?"

  She nodded in response.

  "Yes, sweetie. She's alive."

  Once I knew that Elizabeth was breathing, I kicked into autopilot. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to Cutter, Camden and Jade.

  Me: Elizabeth in accident. Penn Hospital.

  Camden: Be there in 15.

  Cutter: Hold tight, brother.

  Jade: Coming now.

  "Who have you called?" I asked Joseph.

  "Her parents. The friend."

  "Sloan." Juliette corrected him.

  "We didn't know who to call for the guy," Joseph said. "But the doctor said he's going to be fine. Just a broken arm and a few contusions."

  "What. Guy," I asked stone faced.

  Juliette looked at me cautiously, then placed her palm on the center of my chest, as she spoke to me like an emotionally unbalanced first grader.

  "The young man who works for her, Roman. I think his name is Blake?"

  "He was in the car?"

  "He was driving."

  A sharp pain shot me in the head above my eye.

  "Where were they com
ing from?" My voice rose a little louder.

  "Roman," Joseph warned.

  "What!" I barked. Not needing his judgmental shit today of all days. "I need to know everything that happened. She's my responsibility."

  "She's not your responsibility." The old man interjected yet again. "She's family yes, but she's not your responsibility. She's got parents that will be here in the next few hours to remind you of that very thing."

  "Joseph, now is not the time," Juliette said as she rushed over to his side.

  "She's right, old man, now is not the time."

  I stomped down those halls in emergency until I found someone who could give me the answers I was looking for. It didn't take long. A middle-aged nurse who told me that I reminded her of her junior prom date told me everything that she could without getting herself fired as a result. Details on Elizabeth's injuries, her condition when they brought her in, what they were trying to fix in surgery, and where I could find that motherfucker Blake. Because I sure as hell wanted to have a conversation with him, and I didn't care if he was in a coma. I'd wake his ass the hell up real quick.

  "Are you family, sir?" the doctor asked when I whipped back the curtain to emergency bed number four. He was lifting Blake's eyelids and checking his pupils with a silver pen flashlight.

  "Only family members are allowed back here," he said dismissively.

  "It's cool," Blake responded when he noticed that it was me. Then he asked me about Elizabeth. It was the wrong way to start a conversation with me.

  "How is she?" He had the nerve to ask. "They won't tell me much."

  "You mean you want to know just how close you came to getting her killed?"

  The doctor's hand froze in midair. He stopped what he was doing and finally turned his head around. He took a long look at me. Scanning his eyes up and down. Stopping at my scar.

  Then said to Blake, "Do you still want this gentleman back here, Mr. Harrison?"

  "I said it's fine."