Tulsa

by S. L. Scott

  “If I wouldn’t have given you a reason to run after me—”

  “We can go in circles all night.” I cover his hand on the bedrail and give him a gentle smile, all I can conjure at the moment.

  “The funny thing is I rehearsed my reaction to hearing you and Tulsa were hooking up. I went over it a million times in my head over the break. But I never thought . . . I don’t ever want you hurt, but here you are, hurt because of me.”

  “It was an accident, nothing more. I know this won’t bring you any comfort, but Tulsa can’t hurt me any more than I can hurt him. We’re in this together. Truly.”

  He lowers his head and straightens the sheet near my foot. “I think that kind of says everything.”

  My throat feels thick, so I take another sip of water, and then say, “I don’t know where my phone is. Will you call him?”

  When he looks at me, the reality of our changing roles plays out in his eyes. He replies, “What about Mom and Dad?”

  “Can we wait a day or two?” I mess with the sheets, twisting them between my fingers. “I don’t want to add to their stress.”

  “I haven’t told them about you and Tulsa.”

  “Thank you.” Rolling my neck, I feel my stiff body creak. Although I hate worrying my parents, I want to see them. I want my dad’s hugs and my mom’s head kisses.

  I rub my hand over a small bandage on my temple. My eyelids dip closed for a few seconds as exhaustion takes over. When I open them, I know I’m not going to be able to stay awake for long. My head feels clouded, and my body feels heavy from the drugs. But I still want to see Tulsa. “Call him, please. I need him.”

  “You used to turn to me to comfort you.”

  “You’re my brother, Laird. You’ve always been there for me.” I squeeze his hand to let him know I love him.

  “But I have to let you grow up.”

  “I’ve already grown up.”

  He moves closer and pushes the hair off my forehead. “You have.”

  “I’ll always love you. You’ll always be my favorite brother.”

  The joke makes him chuckle. “And you’ll always be my baby sis.”

  “Only by a few minutes.”

  Shrugging, he says, “That counts.”

  “Yeah, it does.” I laugh this time, not big and boisterous, but small and reflective as I realize the dynamic between us is changing. I knew it would eventually, but somehow, I feel kind of sad about it as if I’m letting my childhood go. “I’ll always need you in my life, Laird.”

  Leaning down, he kisses my cheek. “You’ll always have me. I guess our roles are just changing a bit.” Moving to toward the door, he adds, “I don’t know Tulsa well, but I know he’ll take care of you. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  “How does he look at me?”

  “Like you hung the moon. He loves you.”

  He does. And, more than that, I’m so thankful my brother can see it too. I couldn’t do life without him, and I’m so glad now that I won’t have to.

  “Yes, he does. He loves me.”

  36

  Nikki

  The light is too bright.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and take a deep breath, but the desert in my throat makes me cough.

  “Drink.”

  My mind recognizes the voice; my muscles tighten in reaction. My nightmares are given life when I wake. Am I awake? Please be asleep. My breathing grows shallow and my heart races, the machine echoing what I want to hide inside. Never let the monster in again. Never.

  “Nicola.”

  The name rides on a smooth wave of a Spanish accent. I open my eyes, refusing to give Andrés an ounce of my fear. He deserves nothing less than my disgust and hatred. “That’s not my name.”

  “Nikki,” he mocks my nickname with an over-exaggerated American accent, bordering more toward a cowboy’s twang. “Better?”

  “Leave.” There’s no mistaking my intent, but my energy is fading fast as I fight against my stiffened muscles to come across stronger than I am. “A nurse will be here soon. Leave now.”

  “I traveled all this way to see you, mi amor. Three cities, and I finally find you here in a hospital.”

  The heart monitor has settled, but the anger will send my blood pressure through the roof. “How did you find me?”

  He holds up his phone. “Social media is a beautiful thing.”

  If Andrés is here, where is Laird? Where is Tulsa? Where are my parents? I look at the window to check for light. It’s dark. Still night. “Where’s my brother?”

  “The nurse said he went to the hotel.”

  “How did you get in here?”

  “So many questions, but you refuse to look my way. Look at me, Nicola.”

  “Why are you here?” I finally force myself to look at the monster I once thought cared for me. His slightly curly, dark hair is gelled into place. His skin tends more toward golden after a summer spent yachting than the paler version before me. Sickly, matching his psychosis.

  I need him gone.

  “You look more beautiful than ever. Notoriety suits you.” I know he means fame, but he always loved to twist words for his own purposes.

  “I’m warning you. Leave.”

  “I’ll get your medicine. You prefer pills, as I remember.”

  “Taking Xanax was the only way I could tolerate being near you.”

  His laughter echoes around the stark hospital room. “You,” he says, shaking his finger at me. “My vicious barracuda.”

  I always hated when he called me that. I never understood it, and my mind is too foggy to argue. “And you were nothing but bad judgment on my part.”

  Standing at the end of my bed, he presses down on my ankles to the point I can’t move. My scream gets stuck in my throat, my fear taking over, making my skin crawl.

  These drugs need to wear off; every move I make is sluggish and takes strength I don’t have in reserve. Not feeling myself leaves me at a disadvantage and weak in his eyes.

  Instead of leaving, he remains, but all humor has left his once attractive features. He looks as if he’s aged beyond his years. He must have finally joined the family business—taking people and businesses down using whatever means necessary, legal or illegal. “You ruined my name.”

  Is this the start of the speech that ends in my downfall, my death? I won’t die. My hands draw into fists, gathering strength. He may scare me, but he won’t hurt me. Never again. “I did nothing to you.”

  “The beautiful gift I gave you.” His dark eyes pierce my chest, and his hands tighten around my ankles. “It’s gone.”

  I suck in a harsh breath when my mind clears enough to know what he’s referring to—my scar. He knows it’s gone, which means . . . he looked at my body while I was sleeping. I’m going to be sick. He asks, “What did you do to my art?”

  “You didn’t answer me. How did you get in here?”

  Exuding pride, he polishes his nails on the cotton of his dress shirt. “As your husband, I have rights.”

  “You lied your way in?”

  “Mi amor, I want to visit my ailing wife. Who are they to refuse me access?”

  His use of ailing makes me look at the IV bag I was told only had saline in it. Has he done something to it? Tampered with it? Shit. Please, someone, help me. The monitor warns of my racing heart, which brings a nurse running in. “Ms. Faris. How are you feeling?” she asks as she presses buttons on two machines next to the bed.

  “I want him gone.”

  Her gaze darts to Andrés. “Sir, you’ll need to step outside.”

  “I’m her husband.”

  “Stop saying that. You aren’t. I would never marry you.”

  “But, mi amor. How can you deny me—”

  Raising my voice, I say, “Get out.”

  The nurse stands, moving her body between him and the bed. “Leave, sir, or I’ll call security.”

  Swearing under his breath in Spanish, he moves to the door. “I’ve missed you, Nicola, but I�
��ll see you again.”

  “You were the hell I escaped. I never want to see you again.”

  He walks out, and the nurse touches my arm, startling me. “Are you all right?” she asks. “I’m sorry. He said—”

  “I’m okay.” I close my eyes and then take in a shaky breath. “I don’t want him back in here.” Pleading as tears fill my eyes, I add, “Please.”

  “Of course. I’ll make sure he’s removed from your approved visitors list.” Moving around me, she adjusts the blanket over my legs. “If you need help, I can send someone to talk with you. He’ll never know. We take abuse very seriously.”

  Abuse. It’s too late to save me from that. “He’s not my husband.”

  “He lied? I need to report this to security immediately.”

  A rush of frustration fills me. Security. Tulsa was right. Until Andrés is locked away, with someone else—or dead, I’ll never be safe from him. Even then, I’m sure he’d find a way to haunt me. I want to scream until my hands stop shaking and my heart regulates, but I know it won’t do any good. “Please keep him away. He’s attacked me before. He’s a stalker.”

  Horror widens her eyes while her hand covers her mouth. “This is terrible. I’m so sorry.” She nods and apologizes again.

  I can’t stay here any longer. I need Tulsa. Does he even know I’m here? Has Laird told him? I’m sure he’s worried, and since my phone’s gone, I need to reach him some other way.

  I push up as my head starts to clear. I think it’s more the drugs holding me back than the pain or any injury. I look at the IV and make a decision. “Can you take this out for me?”

  “We need to leave it in while—”

  “No. That man was in here when I was asleep. I don’t know if he’s tampered with the IV, and I’m not waiting to find out. I’m leaving.”

  “I’ll change the bag, but I think you should wait the night.”

  Lowering the side rail, I swing my legs over and slip off the mattress until my feet land on the cold floor. “Do I have a concussion?”

  “No.”

  “Internal bleeding?”

  “Fortunately, no.”

  “Then I’m leaving.”

  I touch the IV tube, but she rests her hand on mine, gently stopping me. With one last look at my eyes, she relents. I’m not sure if it’s because she sees how frightened I am or that she can see I really don’t need to be here. “I’ll do it. Hopefully, there will be less bruising.”

  “Thank you.”

  After removing it, she leaves to get the paperwork ready while I get dressed. When I see the black dirt from the street along the side of my skirt and the shredded threads, I get pissed. But it’s not because the skirt is ruined.

  Holding my hands in front of me, I see the subtle shake, exhale a long, slow breath to try to release the fear that’s balled in the pit of my stomach.

  He touched me, put his hands on me. He held me down, and caught up in fear, I let him.

  My stomach churns, and when I taste the bile rising in my throat, I turn my gaze to the ceiling. But there are no stars to be found inside.

  As I catch myself from slipping into a daze, I smile because all I see are dirty ceiling tiles.

  I’m not on a playground. I’m not lying in pain, bleeding his name.

  Despite him lying his way in . . . I’m okay.

  I’m more than okay. I’m alive.

  When I close my eyes, all I see is Tulsa—his smile, those cute dimples, the possibilities shining in his eyes. His laughter fills my ears, and his love fills my heart.

  Our hands joined together at the altar. I do’s—forevermore.

  In addition to the vow I made to him, I make one to myself: Andrés will never control my life, me, or my emotions again. Never.

  I know the call I need to make when I get back to the hotel.

  I pull on my skirt under the hospital gown, moving a little slowly, but I don’t feel bad enough to stay. The nurse comes in, and says, “They’d already started the discharge forms after the MRI results came back. A nurse will be in shortly with those for you to sign, and then we’ll get a wheelchair to take you down to the carport. Do you have a ride scheduled to pick you up?”

  “I don’t have anything set up, but I can’t stay here. I’ll make arrangements.” A phone sits on the side table. I’ll finish getting dressed and call Tulsa.

  “Please don’t leave. We have procedures in place that must be abided by.” She backs to the door. “I’ve been notified that another man has been waiting to see you.” Her sadness fills her sigh. “The other man claims to be your husband, so security won’t allow him to come up. I feel awful. I’m not sure how this happened, but I’ll be filing a report to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The man who tried to sneak up? He tried twice.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Mr. Tulsa Crow.”

  “Oh, thank God. He is my husband, and he’ll be livid I was alone with that man you let in. Please, I need him.”

  “Yes, right away.”

  I have just enough time to dig my shoes out from the slim closet and slip them on before Tulsa comes around the corner into my room. I’m in his arms before we have time to speak, my heart racing because he’s here and holding me again.

  Taking me in, he cups my face and then kisses over my bandage carefully. “Are you okay? Do you have a concussion? Is anything broken?”

  Another form fills the doorway. Laird doesn’t say anything. He just watches us from afar, giving us this time together.

  “I’m fine,” I tell Tulsa. “A little groggy, but I’ll be okay. They said nothing is broken and there’s no concussion.”

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “I, uh, wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  As if he feels Laird behind him, he turns. Though I don’t sense any anger exchanged, they’re not at peace. Tulsa tells him, “I’m not going to apologize for marrying her.”

  Although I move into Tulsa’s warm embrace again, finding my home in his arms, I hear my brother say, “It’s hard to let her go. She’s always been my baby sister.”

  Poking my head back up, I smile. “By three minutes.”

  “Still,” he replies, and when I twist in Tulsa’s arms, I can see his own smile. “All I want is the best for you.”

  “Tulsa is the best for me.”

  Laird’s gaze flicks back to Tulsa. We turn to face him, but Tulsa’s hand remains on my lower back and then slides around my waist. His hold is light and careful but making a statement. “I don’t just care about her. I love Nikki more than anything.”

  Though I’ve teared up, I haven’t cried since I got here, not from the pain or the fact that a psychopath was here. But Tulsa’s words, love, devotion, and declaration bring tears to my eyes.

  Everything about Laird’s demeanor softens—his guilt loses its edge, his frown angles up just enough to notice, and his fists loosen until his hands hang at his sides. “I liked you when I met you,” he says to Tulsa, “but if you hurt my sister, I’ll hurt you.”

  Tulsa smiles. “That sounds fair.”

  “I’m a Crow now.”

  That catches them both off guard, but while Tulsa laughs, Laird stares in shock. He finally seems to pull his thoughts together and exhales loudly. “I’m going to need a minute to process that,” he says, “so let’s go slowly since this is all new to me.” My heart load lightens when he smiles. “Can I be there when you tell Mom and Dad?”

  Rolling my eyes, I say, “You’re evil, and I’m dragging you down with me. Will you have my back?”

  “That’s his job now.” Turning to Tulsa, he adds, “She can be a handful.”

  Tulsa chuckles. “Two handfuls, if you’re asking me, but I’m happy to hold on for the ride.”

  Laird closes the gap and wraps his arms around me as soon as Tulsa steps back. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, but squeeze a little lighter,” I stammer out
through a harsh breath.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing this too. I was too angry. I just want what’s best for you. You deserve that, and I only caused you pain. You were hit because of me. I’m sorry, Nik.”

  “Like I said, there’s nothing to apologize for. It was an accident. You didn’t cause it.”

  “But if I’d stayed—”

  “You’re not to blame, and I won’t let you carry it.”

  “I should have listened to you.”

  This makes me smile. “Yes, you should have, but I understand why you’re protective of me. But I’ve grown up, Laird. I’m okay now.”

  “I’ll try to see you for the woman you’ve become. I may slip up, but just consider it unsolicited advice.”

  “Deal.” I hug him again. This time he holds me a lot more gently. “Thank you for being the best brother a girl could ever have.” When I step back, I rub my side. “And I’ll be fine. I swear.”

  Turning to Tulsa, he says, “She needs a bodyguard full time. At least until this psycho is caught.”

  “I’ve already texted Tommy.”

  “Good.” Laird crosses his arms over his chest. “Do your brothers know you two got married?”

  “They do,” Tulsa replies. “They found out in Austin.”

  “I bet Jet said some wise shit about accepting Nikki into the family, didn’t he?”

  “Something like that.”

  Laird pokes Tulsa in the shoulder and chuckles. “He’s a better man than I am.”

  I say, “You’re a good man, Laird. Someone’s going to be very lucky to land you one day.”

  He shrugs and then laughs. “Maybe. I can be a pain in the ass just like you.”

  My brother holds his hand out to Tulsa. “I’m not welcoming you to our family. My dad can do that. But I will say I think she could have done worse.”

  Chuckling again, Tulsa shakes his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Then Tulsa brings him in for a man hug that’s full of backslapping and ego. I roll my eyes at their ridiculousness and laugh at the sight.

  With the temperature of the room cooling from what I thought might’ve turned into a heated battle, Tulsa comes back to my side and kisses me on the temple. When he looks at Laird, he asks, “Now that you’re my brother-in-law, how about I buy you a Crow tattoo?”