by Hannah Ford
WHAT HE PROMISES (What He Wants, Book Fifteen)
by Hannah Ford
Copyright 2015, Hannah Ford, all rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
CHARLOTTE
“He’s dead,” I cried. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”
But no one would answer me.
The paramedics were working on Noah, their hands moving in tandem as they tried to force life back into his body. I watched as one of them breathed into Noah’s mouth while the other one performed chest compressions, their movements perfectly choreographed.
“Charlotte, you need to come with me,” the policeman who’d called for help said. His name was Officer Reinhart, and I’d made the mistake of telling him my name when he’d asked. Now he was using it in a way that implied we had some kind of connection, and that he therefore had the right to tell me what to do. “We need to get you out of here. You need medical attention.”
He glanced surreptitiously over to the other side of the room, where Professor Worthington was being tended to by a separate team of paramedics. I watched as they loaded him onto a stretcher and began wheeling him out of the room.
Professor Worthington was screaming at full volume, shrieking about the pain in his eye, that he couldn’t see, that he was blind. And yet the paramedics who were helping him were calm. There was no frenzy, no cacophony of screaming, no CPR. I knew enough to realize this meant his injuries weren’t as serious as Noah’s, that he must have been stable.
“Please,” the policeman said. He had salt and pepper hair and a broad chest. His face was weathered, but his eyes were kind. The combination made me think he’d been around for a long time and seen a lot, that he’d been faced with the unthinkable.
“I can’t leave him,” I said. “I need to know if he’s going to be okay.”
I was starting to get hysterical – I could hear it in my voice.
“You need to come with me so we can get you looked at,” Officer Reinhart said. “You’ve obviously been through some trauma.” He put his hand gently on my elbow, and began leading me to the door, but I shook him off.
“No,” I said. “No, I need to make sure he’s okay.”
“We have a pulse,” one of the paramedics tending to Noah said.
I gasped in relief and began to cry, the sobs racking my body. But a second later, they brought in another stretcher and lifted Noah onto it. His body was still lifeless, and the paramedic who’d announced Noah had a pulse jumped onto the stretcher and continued giving him chest compressions.
I felt like I could feel him slipping away.
He’d been so pale, and there’d been so much blood.
If they’d found a pulse, why were they still doing CPR?
I started to follow the stretcher, but the policeman stepped in front of me. “Miss,” he said. “Please, miss, you need to get checked out.”
“I’m going with him.”
“You can’t go with him. There won’t be any room in the ambulance.”
“Then I’ll follow it.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Of course I couldn’t follow the ambulance. I didn’t have a car. But maybe I could find a cab.
“What hospital are they going to?” I demanded.
Officer Reinhart looked at me and shook his head sadly. “Miss, please, you need to stay calm. You need to see a doctor.”
“Please,” I said, my eyes filling with tears. “Please, I just… he’s… you have to know that he’s everything to me. He’s… he’s my world, and I need to be with him. I need to make sure he’s all right.”
The officer’s face softened, the wrinkles at the sides of his eyes smoothing themselves out.
“Fine,” he said. “Will you agree to get checked if we take you to the same hospital?”
I didn’t want to. I hated the thought of being stuck in some exam room while the doctors poked and prodded at me and kept me in the dark about Noah. I was fine. I didn’t need to be checked.
But I had no choice.
I needed to get to Noah, and I had no other way.
So I agreed.
**
I’d never ridden in an ambulance before, and I’d thought it would be scary.
But it wasn’t.
The wail of the sirens and the way the other cars parted as we zipped through the streets was comforting. I wanted to go faster, to get to the hospital – to get to Noah -- as soon as possible.
When we arrived, the ambulance pulled up in front of the emergency room. They’d insisted on putting me on a stretcher, but as soon as the ambulance doors opened and they’d wheeled me out, I tried to get up.
“I’m fine to walk,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure it was true. Someone had found a clean white t-shirt for me to put on, but I had nothing on underneath it, and I wasn’t wearing shoes.
“You need to be wheeled in,” one of the paramedics said jovially. “Hospital rules.”
I didn’t like how friendly he was being. It was almost condescending, like I was one of the countless delusional people who insisted they could walk into the hospital on their own when they were obviously incapable of actually doing it.
I knew I had to play by their rules, so I leaned back on the stretcher, but I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
I was almost through the doors of the emergency room when I saw him.
Noah, on his stretcher, being wheeled into a side door marked TRAUMA.
He was lying his back, and they weren’t performing CPR anymore. Instead, they had a bag attached to his face, and someone was pumping it rhythmically. I couldn’t tell if the bag was attached to his mouth or his throat.
Was that worse or better than what was going on before? Had his condition deteriorated?
“I need to get up,” I said suddenly, sitting straight up.
I hadn’t told Noah anything. He’d said all those amazing things to me, all those things about how much he loved me, how he’d wanted to spend his life with me.
And I hadn’t said any of it back.
He didn’t know how I felt about him, he didn’t know that I loved him so deeply I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
If he’d died, it would be devastating.
But it would be more devastating if he died not knowing how I truly felt about him.
“Charlotte,” the same condescending paramedic said. He was young, maybe about twenty, with blonde hair and a square jaw. He had a friendly smile, but right now, he looked concerned. “Please, you need to stay on the stretcher.”
“No. I need to get up. Please, I need to get to him.”
I could feel my chance slipping away.
If I didn’t see him now, if I didn’t tell him how I felt, he might never know.
I swung my legs over the side of the stretcher and tried to hop down.
The paramedic put his hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me back down.
But I was done playing nice.
“No!” I screamed, struggling against him.
But he was too strong, his grip too tight. Before I knew what I was doing, before I could even think about it, I bit him on the arm.
A second later, as if out of nowhere, a team of people surrounded me. Security guards, doctors, nurses, orderlies, more paramedics.
“Get me two of lorazapam,” someone said.
I felt them inject me with something, the sharpness of the needle biting into my arm.
“No,” I said. “No, please! I’ve already been drugged enough! Stop!” I kicked and screamed, but they didn’t listen.
I’m one of those crazy people, I thought, stunned. I’m one of those crazy insane people who needs to be knocked out at the ho
spital because they can’t be trusted not to hurt someone.
It was the last though I remember having before everything went dark.
**
There were only flashes after that.
A nurse placing a blood pressure cuff around my arm.
The prick of an IV.
The cool feel of a stethoscope against my neck.
Gradually, everything began fading back in, until I was able to open my eyes and take in my surroundings.
I was in a hospital room, and a nurse stood at the side of my bed, checking one of my monitors. She looked over at me, her eyes bright. “You’re awake,” she said, sounding pleased.
“Yes.” I swallowed and tried to keep myself as calm as possible. The last thing I wanted was to get drugged again. “Has there been any word on Noah Cutler?”
“Who?” the nurse asked, her face wrinkling in confusion.
“The man I came in with. Is he… has there been any word on his condition?”
She chewed her lip. “I’ll go get the doctor,” she said.
The doctor appeared a few moments later and introduced herself as Dr. Chu. She was tiny with her dark shiny hair that hung in a straight curtain around her face.
“How are you feeling, Charlotte?” she asked.
“Groggy.”
She nodded. “That’s from the sedative we gave you. It should be wearing off soon.” She grabbed my chart and scanned it. “Your wrist is sprained, and you have some minor cuts and lacerations, some bruises of course. But no broken bones, nothing that needed stitches.” She slid my chart back into the holder at the bottom of the bed. “You’re one lucky girl.”
I nodded, pretending that I cared. What did it matter if I was okay if Noah wasn’t?
“Is my … the man I came in with, has there been any word on his condition?”
“The man who did this to you? He’s going to lose his eye, but he’s expected to make a full recovery. But I don’t want you to worry about him, Charlotte. He’s being held on a different floor under armed guard.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, I mean my boyfriend. Noah Cutler? He was there with me, at the scene, he was … he saved my life. But there was so much blood, and I just… I need to know if he’s okay.”
The doctor looked at me for a long moment. “He’s been in surgery. That’s all I know. Hang tight and I’ll go find out for you.”
I nodded, twisting the sheets in my hands and praying she wouldn’t be gone long.
My prayers were answered as the doctor returned a few minutes later.
“He made it through surgery,” she said. “He lost a lot of blood, but he’s awake. He’s been asking for you.”
I let out the breath I was holding, my stomach untightening, tension flowing out of my body like a river.
“Can I see him?” I asked through my tears.
She sighed. “Charlotte – ”
“Please,” I said. “Please, I …just for a minute.”
She bit her lip, then nodded and gave me a smile. “Okay, but you have to take it easy. We’re waiting for the sedative to leave your system, and then you can be discharged. Don’t make me change my mind about that.”
I shook my head. “I won’t.”
She got a nursing assistant to wheel me upstairs to Noah’s room.
He was sitting up in his hospital bed, his eyes surprisingly bright and alert. He was shirtless, the whole right side of his torso wrapped in a huge white bandage. His face was bruised and cut. But he was alive.
As soon as the nursing assistant was gone, I burst into tears.
“Charlotte,” Noah said. “Oh, Charlotte. I was so worried. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
He started to try to get out of bed, but I stopped him.
“Don’t you dare get out of bed,” I said. Instead, I glance behind me to make sure the hospital staff wasn’t watching, then got out of my wheelchair and climbed into bed next to him.
He wrapped his arms around me, and I saw him grimace in pain.
“Am I hurting you?” I asked, moving away from him a tiny bit.
“No. This is the best I’ve felt all day.” He pulled me toward him, and I rested my head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, steady and strong. I placed my palm flat against his chest and felt the rhythm for extra reassurance.
“I thought you were… I thought you were dead,” I said, and then I began crying again.
“Shhh,” he said, rubbing the back of my neck with his hand. “Charlotte, shhh. Everything’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”
His touch calmed me, but I couldn’t stop crying. He let me have my emotional release, stroking my hair and comforting me as we lay there in his hospital bed, both of us broken physically and emotionally. When I was all cried out, he reached over and grabbed a tissue from the table next to his bed and handed it to me.
“Thanks,” I said. I blew my nose, embarrassed. I couldn’t even imagine what a mess I must look like. Someone had changed me into a hospital gown and a pair of hospital-issued underwear, which I was pretty sure wasn’t a flattering look. My face felt greasy and I could feel my hair hanging in lank strands around my shoulders.
Meanwhile, Noah’s ripped torso and broad shoulders were on full display, his body taut and toned in all the right places. Even his cuts and bruises did nothing to diminish his sexiness – in fact, they made him look like some kind of hero just back from war.
“Don’t look at me,” I said, turning my head. “I’m a mess.”
He cupped my chin gently, turned it so that I was looking him in the eye. “You are beautiful. The most beautiful woman in the world, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, overcome with emotion. “I thought you were dead,” I said. “You said all those things to me, and I thought I wasn’t going to get a chance to say them back. I love you, Noah. I love you so much.”
“I know.” His lips found mine, his kiss soft and tender and full of emotion. It was a kiss unlike any other we’d had before. Before, I’d felt those emotions for him, that love, that connection, but it had been confusing because we’d only been together for a short time. Now we’d been through something, we’d weathered a storm and come out the other side. Our emotions matched our reality, and it felt safe and right and perfect.
He pulled back and looked into my eyes, his finger tracing a line down over my jawbone. “Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head.
“What did he do?”
“He…he tried to force himself on me.”
I felt Noah’s body stiffen next to me, felt him fighting against the anger I’d ignited in him with my words.
“I’ll kill him,” he said. And then to my surprise, he started to get out of bed.
“Noah,” I said, grabbing at his arm and shaking my head. “Noah, you can’t go up to his room! There are cops all over the place.”
Noah snorted, as if something as stupid as a bunch of armed policemen weren’t going to stop him from doing what needed to be done.
“Besides,” I said, “you need to rest. I need you to be okay.”
“I am okay.” But he laid back down and I snuggled back up against him, my legs intertwining with his.
We stayed silent for a moment, the only sounds the beep of the monitors, the soft voices from the nurses station, and the rhythmic in-and-out of our breathing
“How did you get out of jail?” I asked finally. “How did you do it, Noah? How did you save me?”
His hand stroked my hair, twirling the stands around his fingers gently.
“I was sitting there in that cell,” he said, his voice gruff. “I was sitting there going insane, thinking about you being away from me, about you being in danger.” His voice cracked with emotion and his other hand grabbed for mine, our fingers intertwining. “I was so desperate to get to you, and Colin didn’t seem to care. We got into an argument, and he stormed out. And that’s when I started putting it all together. So I called Jos
h, and he agreed to drop the charges. Once that happened, they had no right to hold me any longer.”
“Josh agreed to drop the charges?”
“Yes. He didn’t want to, but when I explained you were in danger, he relented. Then I called Audi, and got him to agree to bid on you, but it was no use. The auction was rigged. I was going out of my mind, Charlotte, I thought… I thought I was going to lose you.”
His hand moved lazily down over my collarbone, dipping into the front of my hospital gown and over the swell of my breast.
His lips found mine again, his tongue entering my mouth as we kissed. The kiss deepened, his mouth pushing harder against mine, his hands sliding a bit further down my body.
“Shit,” he groaned.
I pulled back and looked at him in wonder. “Really, Noah?” I asked.
“I’ll be so quick,” he promised, his tone becoming playful as he pushed at the bottom of my hospital gown, inching it up and over my hips.
I pushed his hand away, mortified at the thought of him touching my hospital- issued granny panties. “No,” I said, grinning. “You need to rest.”
“Charlotte.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t like being told no.”
“I know you don’t.”
“I’ll have to take it out on you later.”
“I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Cutler.”
We lapsed into silence as he continued to stroke my hair lazily. His other hand was under my gown, on my bare back, holding me close to him, making it clear he might be hurt, but he still owned me, was still in charge of protecting me.
I thought he might have dozed off, but a second later he said, “I heard you bit a paramedic.”
“I didn’t bite him!” I said, sitting up and looking at him in mock outrage.
He shrugged. “That’s the rumor going around.”
“Oh, yeah? Who said?”
“The nurses.”
“Maybe I did bite him,” I admitted. “But it didn’t break the skin.”
Noah shook his head. “You shouldn’t be biting anyone, Charlotte. You should be resting.”
“Yes, sir.”
We lapsed back into silence, and I closed my eyes until I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, he was there, watching over me, as I knew he would be.