by K. R. Haynes
* * * *
The hospital waiting room was packed with fellow officers who served alongside her Officer Randall. On her arrival, Chloe felt out of place, like she didn’t belong there. She knew none of these people, except for Mick. She was a little taken aback by the amount of support shown to her by Randall’s fellow team members.
At first she found herself shying away from their attention, finding their caring and support too much to handle, when the condition of Randall was still so unclear. Jake strolled in to the hospital not long after her arrival and stood quietly near her watching over her. An unspoken agreement, she thought, between him and Randall.
The wait for answers was entirely too nerve-racking, to say the least. The ER doctor had briefly been in the waiting room to advise everyone that Randall had been stabilised and they were still working on controlling the bleeding from the injuries he had suffered. An hour or so later the doctor showed up again asking if any family members were present. Upon hearing the doctor’s request, Chloe walked sombrely up to the doctor and tried hard not to focus on the blood splattered all over the front of his blue scrubs.
Keeping her voice low so only the doctor treating Randall could hear her, she told him. “I’m his newly wedded wife.” The doctor nodded at her and asked her to follow him.
Knowing they might need her to fill out some paperwork for his medical history, Chloe grabbed Mick. They both followed the doctor out of the waiting room toward the emergency department. Her heart raced, making breathing increasingly difficult. She clutched onto Mick’s arm for support. He bent down and murmured something into her ear. But for the life of her, Chloe had no idea what he said to her. His words of probable support meant nothing to her at the moment. Her sole focus was on Randall.
The doctor ushered them both into a tiny, sparse office. The room was cold, Chloe thought, too cold. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she tried to focus on what the doctor told them. But she was too cold and numb inside herself to concentrate on his actual words.
Her chest ached when the doctor told her that there was a possible chance Randall wouldn’t make it through surgery. He had lost a lot of blood, and had suffered multiple injuries during the blast. The bomb-suit he wore had protected him from the blast but wasn’t enough to protect him from sustaining multiple injuries.
Tears threatened to fall from her eyes when the doctor told her she could have a minute alone with Randall to say good-bye in case the worst happened and he died on the operating table. She had to be strong, couldn’t show her fear at losing him. She couldn’t allow herself to think about losing him. She couldn’t show any sign of weakness to the man in the blue scrubs by crying. Oh god, what would she do if he didn’t make it through? No, she could not go there, not now. Randall was strong. He’d get through this. Chloe had to keep on reminding herself of that fact.
Mick filled out the medical forms for her when she just stared at them. Chloe knew none of the information they asked of her. Knew nothing about any allergic reactions to any medications or what previous injuries Randall might have suffered in the past. She had never felt so disconnected from the one she loved until now. She realised then that during their time spent together they had not once discussed the important issues like medical history. Sure, Jon had told her he was “clean” to have sex without a condom, but she couldn’t very well put that down on his medical record now, could she.
With the ER doctor’s assistance, Chloe staggered into the curtained-off room Randall was in. The sight of his almost lifeless body lying still on the hospital bed had her paling. If it wasn’t for the doctor holding her upright she would have collapsed onto the hard, cold floor.
“Oh god,” she gasped, to no one in particular.
Nurses were hovering all around him, attaching machines to his body and attending to the drip in his vein feeding him the medication needed. Randall himself was unconscious in a medically induced coma, she heard someone say.
Her heart ached for him. Chloe wanted desperately for everyone to leave the room, to leave her and Randall alone. For him to wake up and tell her this was all a bad dream, a very bad dream. Hearing the doctor behind her clear his throat, Chloe knew her one minute was up. Bending down, she brushed her lips across his forehead. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me, Jon,” she whispered into his ear before leaving his bedside.
Standing out near the nurse’s station with Mick by her side, Chloe clutched onto his arm, needing the support. Seeing the medical staff wheel Randall out of the ER room made it all seem so real. They were taking him up to the theatre for emergency surgery. The doctor had told her he would be down to speak with her after the surgery was completed.
When the elevator doors closed and she could no longer see Randall, Chloe allowed Mick to walk her back to the waiting room. As soon as she entered the cold, sterile room a familiar face came running toward her. Mary J. Chloe burst into tears when she felt her friend’s arms encircle her in a bear hug. She held onto her friend, allowing herself to release the agonising pain and the fear that there was a chance she could lose Randall. Her whole body shook from the force of her cries. The other officers in the room discreetly left the room, leaving Mick and Jake alone with the two women.
Chloe was vaguely aware of the two men speaking quietly to each other. What they were saying, she had no clue. Jake left not long after their conversation though, saying something about investigating some new leads. Mick left to go grab some food and coffee from the hospital cafeteria, even though Chloe told him she wasn’t even hungry.
For hours, the three of them sat in the waiting room. Every so often one of the officers who had waited with them earlier in the day would pop in to see if there was any news on Randall’s condition. Mick was the one who spoke to them. Chloe, well, she just couldn’t find the words to speak. Her mind was constantly on Randall, worrying if he’d make it through the operation, or if she would ever get to experience his possession of her body ever again or ever hear him whisper his words of love to her.
A little before midnight the doctor stopped by to see them. Randall had made it through the long operation, which had been successful. There were no complications. Chloe sighed in relief at hearing that. “Right now he’s in recovery and will be taken to a private room in intensive care,” the doctor told them. Then he turned his focus on her. “Being that you’re his wife you can go up and see him for a bit. He will be taken to ICU room 103.”
The doctor left them alone in the waiting room after that.
“His wife?” Disbelief was evident in Mick’s voice as he said, “You told them you’re his wife? Are you insane?”
Chloe turned to face he him and said, “It was the only way they would let me see him. I didn’t think telling them I’m his lover and submissive would pass as family.”
“Oh boy, I can’t wait till Randall wakes up and hears this, gorgeous. You better get used to sitting on a sore ass for a while, because no doubt Randall will have you over his knee for lying to the medical staff, sweet thing.”
Chloe shrugged her shoulders. “So I lied to the doctor? No big deal. I’ll do it again if I feel there’s a need for it, too.” A blush rose to her cheeks at the thought of Randall’s punishment. “I’ll take whatever punishment he dishes out to me, because he would be alive then.”
“Good point, gorgeous, good point.” Grabbing her hand, Mick walked Chloe to the elevator, while Mary J spoke to the remaining members of Randall’s team waiting for an update on his condition. The ride up to the ICU was a rather quiet one. Wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, removing all moisture there, and taking a deep, steadying breath, Chloe stepped out into the corridor when the elevator doors opened.
They found Randall’s room easily enough. Chloe tried hard not to focus on the beeping of the machines or the tubes going into his body. Or the fact his body was covered in bandages. Even the tips of his fingers had cuts on them. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she stared at him. “I don’t know what to say t
o him or where to touch him,” she murmured.
Mick said quietly to her, “Just let him know you’re here, sweetheart. All Randall would want to know is that you’re here with him.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Mick and told him, “I’m not leaving his bedside. You know that, right?”
“I figured as much. I’ll go advise the nursing staff in a minute that you are to remain with him. That should at least avoid them kicking you out.”
“I’d love to see them try,” she scoffed at him, before returning her gaze back to Randall. His face was covered in fine scratches. Tracing a fingertip around the unscathed area along his jaw, Chloe bent down to whisper in his ear. “I’m not leaving your side, Jon. You hear me? I’m not leaving you, and you most certainly aren’t leaving me either, Sir.”
Resting her head down on the pillow above his shoulders, Chloe quietly sobbed to herself. Mick came over and rubbed her back with his hands as her body shuddered from her sobs. He left the room not long after to go speak with the medical staff. She would be forever grateful for Mick being here with her and detailing with the nursing staff.
Pulling up a chair by his bedside, Chloe made sure she wasn’t in the way when the nurses came in to check Randall’s vitals and change his dressings. Plonking her tired ass down into the ugly lime green chair, she rested her fingertips on an unbandaged part on his arm. She needed to have some form of contact with him, to feel his warmish skin beneath her fingertips. To know that Randall was fighting to stay with her, to stay alive, was something Chloe needed from him.
Chapter Forty-Eight
He’d been in a medically induced coma for four days straight now. However, the doctors had made the decision that Randall had progressed well enough to be brought out of it. So they had given him some drug to help him wake up. That had been hours ago and Chloe still waited for some sign Randall was coming to.
She knew when he did wake up he wouldn’t be impressed when he found out she had hardly slept in days, had barely eaten, and had only left his bedside to use the bathroom. She had showered, forced to by Mary J and Mick. They had all but dragged her into the en suite bathroom and locked her in there. They told her she wasn’t coming out until she showered and dressed in the spare clothes Mary J had brought in for her.
She had only picked at the food they both had pushed at her to eat. No matter what she ate nothing had any taste. Chloe had to force the bits of food she did eat down, knowing Randall would not be pleased if he found out she had forgone food as well as sleep. Not to mention the part about her being his so-called newly wedded wife.
Hell, the idea of being his wife stirred up a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. Chloe rather liked the idea of being known as Mrs. Jon Randall.
The thought that that would have been impossible if he had died set up an ache in her head and in her chest. She could have lost him.
She rubbed at her temples as pain engulfed her head. She had lost him once already. Ten years ago, he had broken her tender teenage heart. Looking down at him, Chloe realised the reason she couldn’t remember him, couldn’t remember their time together, was because she had blocked it out. Somehow, just the thought of losing him again was enough to trigger her memory and remove the emotional block she had placed there to protect her heart from the pain his departure from her life had caused her.
All those years ago, all those memories she couldn’t recall before now, came flooding back to her in a hurry. The first time she saw Jon after school. It had been an unseasonably warm summer’s day. The sun had blazed high in the later afternoon sky as she ducked into a cafe. And there he stood. His sky-blue eyes shimmered with mischievousness. A shy smile graced his lips when he accidentally bumped into her. Then at her sixteenth birthday party, she had been standing at a table full of unopened presents. Randall had grabbed her hand and pulled her outside. They both ran hand in hand up to their oak tree at the back of her parents’ house. He had given her his birthday gift then. “My precious one, my only one, happy birthday,” he had whispered to her. He had given her the print, just like he had given her the painting of that exact print a few weeks back.
All her memories of her time spent with Randall returned to her. Those missing six months of her life she couldn’t remember, all recalled now.
Brushing back his matted hair off his forehead with her fingertips, Chloe leaned down so her lips were caressing his ear as she spoke to him. “You may have left me once, Jon Randall, but you will not be doing it again. You hear me? Never again will you leave me and break my heart.”
* * * *
He heard a voice, one he recognised, but at the same time the voice seemed too distant, too far away. Randall found himself wanting to reach out to the voice but his arms wouldn’t work. They were much too heavy to lift. His mind too foggy, clouded from the drugs they pumped into him, to figure out whom the voice belonged to. He heard them mutter something about him not leaving them. Where was he going? He wanted to tell them he was in no shape to leave. His mouth wouldn’t work though. It felt like he had sand or cotton wool stuck in there.
His eyes, he wanted to open his eyes. He needed to see if she was there with him. His precious, would she be here? Where he was he had no memory of. Pain, there was lots of pain though, everywhere. His body felt like it had been hit by some hundred-tonne truck.
Randall remembered then the bomb explosion he’d been in. His body had been slammed violently against the brick wall from the force of the blast. Shit, he must be in a hospital then.
He had to open his eyes though to know for sure. Gradually he cracked open his heavy eyelids. Automatically he squinted at the harsh light filtering in through the cracks in the venetian blinds. “Light…” His throat was raw, making the whispered word sound harsher than it was meant to.
Randall heard a gasp, then his name.
He turned his head slightly to the soft feminine voice. “Light, hurt eyes,” he croaked out again.
The blinds were closed and the painful glare finally removed. Opening his eyes more, he saw a tear-stained, angelic face hovering above him. “Chloe,” he said, her name a mere whisper falling from his dry cracked lips.
“Jon!” Her soft hands came upon his face, caressing him. “Thank god, you’re awake.” Her relief echoed in her softly spoken words.
“Awake, yeah,” he mumbled out to her.
Something cold brushed against his lips. Ice. Looking up, he saw Chloe rubbing an ice chip across his lips. Opening his mouth, she slipped the ice chip inside. He moaned, relishing the cold moisture on his tongue. “More?” she asked him.
“More.”
His energy evaporating quickly, more ice brushed across his lips. His eyes drooped down, sleep coming at him hard and fast. The feel of moisture dripping onto his cheek had him realising Chloe was crying. Without opening his eyes, Randall whispered lethargically to her. “Don’t cry, precious. I’m…here.”
“You’re right here with me, alive,” he heard her say before he fell asleep.
Chapter Forty-Nine
For the past few days, Randall had been in and out of consciousness. The combination of the pain and the medication sapped his energy, forcing him to sleep rather than stay awake. And, well, the body healed quicker when you were asleep, so he just went with it. Knowing Chloe stayed with him gave him great comfort. He could feel her presence in the room, even when he was asleep. So rousing from a restless night’s sleep to find she wasn’t in the room with him had Randall slightly concerned. Had something happened to her?
“Hey, bro, you’re awake.”
Peering up at his old friend, Randall asked him, “Where is she? Where’s Chloe?”
“She’ll be back in a sec, mate. Mary J dragged her downstairs to grab something to eat before she fades away.”
“Fades away?”
“Well, close to it. Your woman hasn’t exactly been eating or sleeping properly since your accident.”
“Is that so?” Randall half smirked at his old friend upon heari
ng this about Chloe. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she wasn’t taking better care of herself. Mick nodded his head. There was something else his old mate wasn’t telling him. Something else about Chloe, he’d bet. “What aren’t you telling me, Mick?”
He watched as his friend glanced over his shoulder, like he was checking to make sure the coast was clear. “Mick, what aren’t you telling me?”
“Ah, how do I put this? You see, Chloe got it into her sweet little head of hers that the only way she could see you or stay by your bedside, was to tell the doctor she was your”—Mick cleared his throat—“wife.”
“Come again?” Randall asked, completely dumbfounded by his friend’s statement.
“She told them she’s your wife, newly wedded if I recall correctly. Congratulations, by the way.”
Randall dismissed Mick’s congratulations remark with a wave of his hand. “Shit. Wow. I don’t know if I should be flattered by it or downright pissed at her for lying.”
“Well, you better figure out which one it is and soon, ’cause I can hear the women coming back down the hall as we speak.”
* * * *
Chloe sauntered into Randall’s room, half expecting to find him still asleep. So she was a little taken aback at seeing him sitting up in bed chattering casually away to Mick. “You’re awake,” she said to him.
His gaze turned to where she stood in the doorway to his room.
“Now, why does everybody keep saying that to me when they see me?”
She gifted him with a smiled. “Because you’ve spent the good part of the last eight days asleep, that’s why.” She walked up to his bedside and stared down into his sky-blue eyes. “Jon,” she sighed softly to him then bent to sip lightly at his lips. God, she couldn’t wait to take him home. Chloe would do almost anything to curl up naked against his body. Just to feel his warmth, to feel his love for her once again.