Hunter.
I sit and my head swims. I squint at the woman—a nurse I realize—and reel my gaze around. I’m in a hospital bed. A printed blanket and white sheet tucked in so tightly around me it’s pinning me down. On the side table, a jug of water awaits. I register cold fingers against my wrist.
“Who are you?” I try again.
The dark-haired, slightly curvy nurse smiles. “I’m Sandra. You’re at Queen Elizabeth’s hospital. Just relax. You’ve been in an accident but you’re okay. We spoke when you first came in.”
“I don’t remember.”
“That’s not surprising. You did hit your head.”
“In the bike accident.”
“That’s what they told me, yes.”
“Am I… have I done some damage?” I feel so sluggish. I can’t get my thoughts straight. Maybe I’m brain-damaged.
“No, you may be mildly concussed but the fact that you were awake after the accident is a good sign. You were communicating quite well.” Sandra releases my wrist and jots something down on a clipboard before dropping it into something at the end of my bed. “We’ll get someone to come and take a look at you in a moment. Do you need something for your head?”
“I—yes, please.” The pain seems to increase when she reminds me of it. Sandra turns and that fear rumbles inside me as fractured images come back. “Wait! Where’s Hunter?”
“The man you came in with?”
“Yes. Is-is he alive?”
“Yes, he’s alive. He didn’t wake up so they’re taking him down for a CT scan.” She comes back to my side and puts a hand to my arm as I struggle to loosen the blankets. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Just rest until we can get a doctor to look at you.”
“No.” I push back the bedding. “No, I need to see him.”
“Jess—”
“Please! I need to see him.” I finally free my legs from the bed and swing them over the edge. Fear makes me tremble. What if he dies? What if he’s so badly injured he’ll never recover? What if he’s forgotten me? Everything else seems so trivial now. The stab of betrayal has given way to the terror that I might never be able to tell him… tell him what?
That I love him?
Do I?
Shit. I get to my feet and stumble back onto the bed as my head spins. I’m wearing an open backed dressing gown and cold air swirls around my back. I probably just flashed half the patients on the ward. Sandra steps forward and kindly helps me put on a thin gown.
“Let me just get a doctor to check you over and then I’ll have a porter take you down, okay?”
“Please hurry.” I have to be by Hunter’s side. I dread the thought of him alone.
Sandra hastens off and I glance around the ward. It’s mostly elderly. Some are asleep, others have visitors. Their hushed tones sound unnatural and too much like a funeral home. The staff move briskly and efficiently and coldness seeps into my bones. Does Hunter have someone kind at his side? What if he wakes with no one there?
I blow out a long breath when Sandra approaches with a woman in a purple blouse and black trousers. Sandra hands me some water and painkillers as the woman pushes her glasses back up her nose and eyes me. “Jess, I’m Dr. Morgan. How are you feeling?” She draws up a chair and sits opposite me.
Painkillers in hand, I eye them warily. My head is agonizing and if I want to see Hunter, I need a clear head but I fear these small little white capsules. What if they lead me down a route I can’t go down again? Taking a breath, I throw them back and take a sip of water. For Hunter, I can do anything. I won’t let them control me again.
The doctor runs through what feels like endless questions. I battle the desire to push past her and find Hunter myself but I’ve no idea where he is or if I’ve even got enough strength to go to him. She checks my eyes and looks over the clipboard at the end of the bed then offers me a smile.
“You have a mild concussion. You’ll feel out of sorts for a few days but I see no reason why you can’t return home tomorrow. We’ll keep you under observation today. You won’t be able to drive home, however. You’ll need to get a lift or take a taxi.”
I nod, barely taking in her words. “Can I see Hunter?”
“The man she came in with,” Sandra adds.
Dr. Morgan nods. “Yes, but be sure to get some rest today. You’ve been through quite an accident. You were very lucky. Believe me—” the woman eyes me from over her black frames “—I’ve seen much worse injuries from bike accidents. The police will want to talk to you about it later too.”
I nod again, but I don’t feel lucky. All I can think about is Hunter’s lifeless body sprawled across the ground.
Sandra motions to the man with a wheelchair waiting at the end of the ward. “This is Mark, he’ll take you down to see Mr O’Reilly. He’s under orders to collect you in two hours, okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They help me into the wheelchair. Anxiety courses through me and I clench the arms of the chair. Cold air swishes around my bare legs so I pull the gown tightly around me. In the sea of well-dressed doctors, nurses and visitors, my sense of vulnerability amplifies. Mark wheels me to the elevator and we wait. Even through the buzz of low conversation and tapping heels, my heart pounds in my ears. I long to jump up and go to Hunter myself. The elevator is taking too long. Why is it taking so fucking long? The thud of my head and the weakness in my limbs prevents me from doing anything but wait.
Finally the doors slide open and we enter, followed by several other people. The lift is wide—to fit the beds I assume—but I still feel claustrophobic. I’m out of my depth here. I’ve spent so long living in a bubble of work, home, work, that anything else sets panic alight in my stomach. I clench my arms tightly around myself and focus on seeing Hunter again. Maybe I’ll even get the chance to tell him how I feel—to tell him I love him.
There’s no denying it. I can’t cope without him. Somehow, in spite of everything we’ve done to each other, I need him. While he accepted my lies, I failed to do the same for him. I have to make it up to him. If I get the chance, I’ll show him I get it. God knows, I can hardly take the moral high ground. I know better than anyone what people do if they’re desperate.
The ping from the elevator jolts me back to reality. Mark takes me down a maze of corridors with quiet efficiency and expert skills. I spot the sign for CT department and my heart bounds. I hope to God Hunter is okay. Everything that has happened is because of me. He wouldn’t have been driving so recklessly if it wasn’t for me. How will I live with myself if there’s permanent damage?
“Wait here a moment.” Mark manoeuvres me against a wall. “I’ll just find out where he is.”
“Thanks,” I croak, my throat tight with nerves.
Mark strolls over to the nurses’ workstation at the end of the corridor and I twine my hands in the robe. It’s funny how everything I’ve been fighting for—anonymity, freedom from judgment, a life of my own—means nothing now. I’d put up with abuse, bullying, anything just to be with Hunter right now.
The door to the CT room swings open and a porter pulls out a bed. I jump up, by some miracle stay on my feet, and hurry over. “Wait!
The man pauses and frowns as I come to Hunter’s bedside.
“He’s my—”I fumble for an explanation “—my boyfriend.”
“I’m just going to take him to the ward while they wait for results,” the grey-haired man explains but I don’t really hear him.
Hunter’s face is unnaturally pale, his beautiful eyes shut. His stubble appears even darker against his ashen skin and there are hollows beneath his eyes. A dark purple bruise mars his forehead. I fight back the tears, reach over the bars and smooth a hand over his messy hair.
“Miss Callahan?”
I peer behind me to see Mark waiting with the wheelchair. I sink into it as my legs give way. I can’t keep my gaze from Hunter. It’s too weird seeing this strong, capable man so vulnerable. He’s so good at taking care of me I
took it for granted that nothing could bring him so low.
I clamp a hand over my mouth as a sob threatens to well up.
“You can stay with him for a while,” Mark informs me, “but you’ll need to get some rest too.”
I nod, unable to make my voice work. We follow the other porter and Hunter through the corridors and back into the elevator. This time it’s busier and there are people between me and the bed. I can’t see him properly and my palms itch with the need to be touching him. I can’t help feel that if I can just reassure him I’m here, everything will be all right.
Or perhaps it’s just me who needs the reassurance.
They take us to a different ward, the walls lined with blue stripes as opposed to the yellow on the ward I was. I guess it’s to help you find your way around but I doubt very much I could find my way back without help. Not that I want to. I’ll stay by Hunter’s side for as long as they let me.
When he’s installed safely back in his bay, Mark wheels me next to him. “Thank you.” I motion to the bed. “Can you take the side down?”
“Sure.” Mark unlatches the side and slides it down.
I shift the chair closer and take Hunter’s hand. It’s surprisingly warm and I savour it, remembering a time when that hand was touching my face and my body.
“A porter will be down to collect you in about an hour and a half.”
“Okay, thank you.”
I don’t want to think about leaving Hunter but I’ll take what I can get. The painkillers seem to be kicking in and the pounding in my head is now just a dull ache. I study Hunter’s hand, threading my fingers between his large blunt ones. With my other hand, I stroke his hair and forehead. His chest rises and falls steadily, the wide strength so at odds with the flimsy hospital gown with its garish multi-coloured print—the name of the hospital repeated across it over and over.
I rest my head against his arm and wait. Time drifts. I recall all the words I wish I hadn’t said. How distrustful and how scared I was. For what? For it all to be taken away from me? Nothing is scarier than the man I love being hurt. And I contributed to that.
The gentle pulse of his skin against my forehead quickens and I drag my head up. With sticky palms, I brush a hand across his forehead. Is he dying? Does he have internal injuries? I glance around for a nurse or anyone but I can’t see anyone nearby and I can’t leave him.
Mouth dry, I study his face. I’ve never seen anyone die. What happens? A flicker behind his eyelids catches my eye and I hold my breath. Tears threaten to burst free. Another flicker. His lashes move marginally. I release a squeak. More movements and his eyes open, unfocussed. His lids are at half-mast so I can’t see the colours in his eyes but it’s enough.
“Nurse!” I cry out and try to stand but I’m too weak from fear.
He rolls his head around and I see him hone in on me. The tiniest up-tilt of his lips sends my racing heart into overdrive and I let out a sob.
“Jess.” His voice is gritty and barely audible.
“Yes, I’m here.” I press a palm along his rough cheek. It’s probably my imagination but his skin feels warmer, full of life.
“What…?”
“You’re in hospital. We came off the bike, remember?”
Hunter’s eyes widen. “You… hurt… ?”
“No, I’m fine. You hit your head, Hunter. Badly. We’re just waiting for scan results. How… how do you feel?”
“Like… I fell off a bike…”
I let slip a relieved giggle as a nurse hastens over and begins checking him. A doctor joins in and I observe. Dread curdles my stomach. He might be awake but I won’t feel assured until we’re out of this hospital and Hunter is warm and well in my arms.
The middle-aged doctor steps back. “Mr O’Reilly, you’ve had quite a hit. We should have your CT results any moment now, but you’ll need to stay in for observation after being unconscious for so long,” he warns.
“He’s going to be okay?” I ask hopefully
“We’ll know for sure once we’ve got the scan results.”
The doctor leaves and Hunter struggles to sit for a drink. I help him, holding the straw so he can get a sip. With a heavy breath, he sags down and turns his gaze to me.
“I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t know what happened.” Each word seems to take so much effort that tears threaten to well again.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m meant to protect you.”
“You do.” Before he can say anything, I shift closer and bury my head into his shoulder. His lips brush my forehead. “I thought you were going to die.”
“Not likely. Wouldn’t leave you.”
“Good. Don’t ever leave me.”
“Never,” he promises gruffly. “Never, princess.”
Chapter Twenty
Jess
Hunter ushers me into the hotel room with a hand to my back. A sumptuous bed with purple pillows awaits. I long to sink into it. It’s been an exhausting few days, waiting for Hunter to recover and be discharged from the hospital. I turn and motion to the bed.
“Sit down. You must be tired.”
He shrugs and winces. With his arm in a sling, he’s been getting grumpier and grumpier about not being able to look after himself properly. Thank goodness it’s only sprained. Even the bump to his head is easing. Looking sulky, he throws himself onto the soft bed.
“Mitch is going to bring along some stuff later.” I fling down the plastic bag with our battered leathers in. Thankfully Mitch and Hunter’s other close friend, Connor, brought along a few changes of clothes to the hospital.
I glance around the suite. Mitch must have paid a decent amount for the room but I won’t tell Hunter that. Last thing he needs to be worrying about is paying Mitch back when we’re both too poor to pay for a hotel. But until the police finish forensics on Hunter’s bike and track down Lucas, his house is too dangerous.
“You hungry?”
“No.”
I smother a giggle at his petulant tone. “Tired?”
“I’ve been in a bed for days.” He glowers at me. “Stop babying me.”
Coming to stand in front of him, I thread my fingers through his hair and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m going to take care of you whether you like it or not.”
“I don’t need looking after.”
“You could have died!”
“And leave you?” Hunter nuzzles against the cotton of my top. “Never.” He lifts his head to stare up at me. “I should be looking after you, not the other way around. I can’t believe I lost control of the bike.”
“It wasn’t your fault. The brakes were cut.” I shudder when I consider Lucas sneaking around and deliberately damaging Hunter’s motorbike.
“Poor Harley.”
“I’m sorry, Hunter.”
“Not as sorry as I am. I had a buyer lined up for it and everything.”
“A buyer?”
“Was trying to make ends meet after I told Carl to stuff his job.”
“Oh, Hunter…” If I wasn’t already convinced I was mistaken about Hunter, I would be by now.
“I should have realized something was wrong. Fuck, I was so stupid. Too busy worrying you wouldn’t ever forgive me.”
I shake my head. “Not your fault,” I tell him again. “Quit playing the hero and suck it up, O’Reilly. I’m going to pour you a bath.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I spin away before he can protest any longer and begin pouring the bath. When it’s full, I turn off the tap and go back into the room to lead him in.
An eyebrow rises as he eyes the bath. “Bubbles?”
“Yes, bubbles.” I resist the urge to laugh at this expression. “You need bubbles right now.”
Hunter takes a step forward, eyes me from under his dark brow and loops his uninjured arm around my waist, pulling me sharply into him. I barely smother a gasp.
“The only thing I need right now is…” he lays his lips on my neck “�
��you.”
Warm, rough kisses send my nerve endings tingling and I almost forget I’m meant to be looking after him. Palms to his chest, I push him away gently. “You need to relax and heal.”
His lips twist but he relents and lets me untie his sling. “Where did you get them anyway?”
“The bubbles?”
“Yes, the bubbles. I don’t recall ever having a bubble bath in my life.”
“The hotel gift shop.”
He laughs. “You’re really something, princess.”
“What? I was worried and I wanted to do something for you.”
“I like that.”
“What? That I wanted to do something for you?”
I run the sling between my hands. I’m still trying to absorb everything that happened—all the feelings I’m having. Am I still mad at him? No, I don’t think I can be. I get it. Hunter is just like me—has made the same mistakes as me. He was driven to do things he didn’t want to and he regrets them just as much.
“No, well, yes… but that you were worried for me. It means you care.”
“Oh, Hunter, I… I more than care.” To my dismay, tears well in my eyes—tears I thought I’d already shed.
He closes the distance once more and swipes a thumb under my eye. “Don’t cry, Jessie baby, I’m okay.” With a tilt of his head, he motions to the bath. “Are you going to continue taking care of me then?”
A bubble of laughter sneaks up on me and I shake my head at his expression—the cocky raised brow and suggestive smile. I can’t deny I want to take care of him in many, many ways but he still needs to recuperate. Somehow, I’m going to have to control myself.
His sling cast aside, I ponder his black shirt. “I don’t know how to get that off without hurting you. How did you get it on in the first place?”
“I think I was pretty drugged up.”
Tentatively, I lift the hem and pray he doesn’t hear my intake of breath when my fingers connect with warm flesh. I strongly suspect I could have Hunter naked for hours and never tire of the sight. It feels so good to have him warm and vital in front of me. I can’t believe how close I came to losing him. Hopefully the cops will figure out what happened but for the moment I can’t bring myself to feel anything but grateful we’re alive.
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