Overboard: Swingers Second Chance Contemporary Romance Novel

by Moore,Mia

  “So what if she doesn’t wake up in seventy hours?”

  The doctor crossed his arms. “Then it gets complicated.”

  “Complicated? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  The doctor took a deep breath.

  This is NOT going to be good!

  “Generally if a patient wakes within the seventy-two hour window following a head trauma, the damage is slight. The longer a patient is in a coma state, the greater the damage and the longer the rehab period. I’m afraid all we can do at this point is monitor her and wait.”

  From the corner of his eye he noticed his father’s shoulders slump and his gaze fall to the floor.

  “You’re free to stay with her one at a time as long as you wish. Even when a person is in a comatose state there’s some evidence that the words or touch of a loved one, registers in some part of the brain. On some level, she’ll know that you’re there.” The doctor spoke softly, gazing at each of them.

  “Thanks Doc. I think I’ll go in and see her now for awhile.” His father looked at the doctor, a wan smile on his lips.

  When the doctor left, Dad turned and placed his hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to spend the night here. If you want to stay and see her again before you go home—“

  “I’m not going home! We’ll both stay. We can take turns sitting with her.” There was no way he was leaving here.

  Dad hesitated, and nodded slowly. “Okay. I’m going in and sit with her for an hour. Here’s twenty bucks. Go get us something to eat in the cafeteria.” Dad smiled at him and pressed his arm.

  “Okay, Dad.” He turned to leave, stopped and turned back.

  “Daddy?” He couldn’t hold it anymore. He started blubbering just like a little kid. “She going to be okay?”

  He was crushed in his father’s arms, and buried his head in the old man’s chest. He was crying for real now. Pop’s hand was brushing back his hair as his shoulders heaved.

  “Petey… Petey… I don’t know”

  Chapter 8

  A trolley bumping outside the door of the waiting room startled Glen awake. He shook his head and yawned. He checked the time. Three-thirty in the afternoon, twenty four hours now, give or take. Forty-eight to go. Peter was still in with Abby and she hadn’t woken up yet.

  He sighed as he fished the cell phone from his pocket and hit a button dialing his home phone. Two messages. One from Claire— oh shit he should call her to let her know— and the other from the police officer who’d called him about the accident. Abby’s car had been towed to Doug’s Towing and her purse and other personal items were bagged and in the office there.

  He better call Claire. This was going to be hard.

  “Hello?”

  “Claire. It’s Glen. Abby was in a car accident yesterday and is in the hospital.” He breathed deeply holding the phone.

  “What! How is she? What hospital?”

  “She’s in a coma. St. Joseph’s.” This time he held the phone a few inches from his ear anticipating her answer.

  “A COMA! I’m on my way!”

  His eyebrows rose when he looked at the cell phone. She hadn’t even said good bye. He wouldn’t be surprised if the elevator door opened and there she was.

  He yawned once more and closed his eyes, spreading his feet out on the floor in front of him. God, his eyes were burning. He’d just close them for a minute.

  A hand on his shoulder shook him awake. He looked up. “Hi Claire.”

  “I’m so sorry Glen. Is there anything new on her condition?” She tucked herself into the chair next to him.

  “Nothing. Peter’s still…No, there he is.” He smiled seeing his son.

  Claire jumped to her feet and put her arms around the boy. She was almost a second mother to him, especially since she and Barry never had any kids of their own.

  “You two look exhausted. I’ll go sit with Abby while you go home and get some rest.” Her arm was around Peter’s waist and she looked at Glen.

  “No, one of us had better stay. Dad, why don’t you go? Have a shower at least.”

  He couldn’t have been prouder of Peter than at that moment, trying to be strong and considerate when he was every bit as worried. “Oh…I don’t know.”

  “Nonsense. Peter’s right. Come back in a few hours. We’ll be here with Abby and if anything changes we’ll call.” Claire stepped towards him pulling at his arm. She wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. I must stink wearing these clothes for two days. You’re sure you’re going to be okay?” His body was heavy as he rose to stand. A shower and a nap was a good idea.

  “Yes. Go.” Peter and Claire spoke in unison.

  “Alright. See you later.” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder before he disappeared through the door.

  Driving home, he saw the sign “Doug’s Towing.” Well, it wouldn’t hurt to stop in and see the damage for himself. He pulled into the lot and parked the truck, bending lower to peer at the office window. Yup. There was a light on.

  An elderly man in a ball cap stared at him through thick, bi-focal glasses when he went inside. He wore a heavy plaid coat and from the white stubble on his face, it looked like he could use a shower as well.

  “Can I help you?” The old man’s jaws worked like he’d forgotten his teeth on the bedside table.

  “Yeah. My wife’s car, a dark blue Chrysler sedan 2008 was brought here yesterday. The police told me you have the contents… and I’d like to see the car.” He gave his name and showed ID.

  The old man slowly rose to his feet and peered under the counter. He pulled out a black plastic garbage bag labeled with ‘Henkel Chrysler’. Bent forward, he rounded the counter and thrust the bag at Glen.

  “Go down that row about half way. It’s on the right.” Nicotine stained fingers pointed the direction to the car.

  “Thanks.”

  Glen started walking down the row, trying to avoid patches of ice. He looked at all the mangled vehicles, searching for a dark blue one. There it is. The front end and driver’s side were crushed and pushed in. No wonder Abby was so banged up. Even though the air bag had deployed, the way the driver’s door had folded, she was lucky to be alive.

  Just seeing it brought hot tears to his eyes once more. Thank you God, for sparing her. Now, please just fix her! He couldn’t bear to see anymore. He turned and walked back to his truck. For sure, the insurance company would write it off.

  Poor Abby. The police had told him that her car had been hit by a truck and spun around. The front had banged into another parked car. How fast was she going…and the truck?

  When he opened the front door of his home, everything seemed too quiet, unnatural somehow.

  Because it was empty.

  He slipped his coat and boots off and started towards the stairs before remembering the garbage bag. Abby’s things. He lifted it and continued up the stairs and into his bedroom. He set the bag on the bed and started to remove his clothes.

  God. He stank. The stink of worry and weariness.

  He reached for the garbage bag, lifting it easily. It seemed pretty full yet it was light. He untied the knot and turned the bag upside down, watching an array of brightly colored bags fall out, along with her owner’s car manual, insurance, ownership and some tubes of lipstick. He looked at the bags, one was pink, one red and a third one was black. She must have gone shopping after work. He bent over and picked one up.

  The hot pink one was first. He reached in and pulled out a long article wrapped in white tissue. Some kind of flashlight? He pulled the tissue off the box and his eyes, his whole face, burst open in surprise.

  A vibrator? He turned the box in his hands, staring at the contents through the clear plastic window. He had never seen anything like it. What kind of brand name is ‘Rabbit’ anyway? And what was that doo-hickey sticking out the side of it? He turned the box over and read the description on the back.

  And blushed.

  Abby? Y
ou bought THIS THING? What the hell was this all about?

  He dropped the box and grabbed the red bag. Again the tissue. He tore it away to find a black lacy bra, garter belt and stockings. He stared at them. Stockings? Abby wore pantyhose, not stockings. He laid them out on the bed silently and picked up the last bag with a sense of dread. The last bag was black…

  Inside, was a red corset and more stockings. These ones had a pattern on them. He laid them on the bed and stared at the collection.

  What the hell was going on here? Sex toys and stripper wear? This was like what the women in the videos he and Barry watched.

  Barry.

  Barry’d had an affair and Claire threw him under the bus!

  Was Abby having an affair? Oh no! His jaw clenched. Who the hell did she buy all this sexy stuff for then? Some guy she worked with?

  He’d kill him.

  Her words of the morning before echoed. ‘You haven’t touched me in weeks!’ She wasn’t getting enough sex at home so she’d gone looking for it somewhere else.

  The reason he hadn’t been interested was because of work! And whose fault was that! The dirty shit,

  Weasel Carl. He’d kill him too!

  Maybe all those nights she went to work out at the gym with Claire, she’d really been with HIM! Whoever HIM was.

  And what about her! She wasn’t even awake for him to give her shit.

  He stomped into the en-suite bathroom and turned the shower on, full and HOT! His sweet little Abby playing around behind his back! And she had the nerve to come down on him for looking at porn with Barry! The hypocrite!

  At least he wasn’t fucking around on HER. And it wasn’t like there hadn’t been offers. No plenty of women had given him the eye! There was Tina at the diner. She’d made it clear that there were a lot of other things she’d like to serve him!

  He wiped the mist from floor length mirror with a towel and looked at himself, sucking his tummy in and squaring his shoulders. For a forty-five year old guy he was pretty damned good looking. There were rounded muscles on his shoulders, arms and pecs. Okay the abdomen wasn’t a six pack— because of all the six packs he’d put in it, but still… A few gray hairs at his temple, but that made him look distinguished. He was a good looking man, kinda’ like Robert De Niro.

  His pant size had only gone up two sizes since he was a teenager. Still the slim hips, rock hard ass cheeks and muscular legs. And that piece of meat between his legs was no wiener by hell! No, it was on the Polish sausage shelf. So why would Abby run around on him and not appreciate what she had at home?

  He turned and pulled the shower curtain back. Because she wasn’t getting any at home…

  His head hung and he stood silently for a moment. THAT was the truth. Having a good body wasn’t enough. He should have showed her some loving. She didn’t know that he was still turned on by her. She didn’t know that he was having problems at work and making love was the last thing he had energy for.

  She didn’t know.

  Tears ran down his swarthy skin, off the firm jaw line to join the water flowing down the drain. What was happening to his life? Was everything going down the drain?

  He stepped into the shower wincing at the heat of the water but standing there to take it. It was what he deserved. What kind of man was he?

  He’d fucked up his life by not staying in school and now his marriage was failing.

  How could she do this to him? After all the years? Their son…

  All the strength of his legs trickled down the drain. He fell to his knees, bent at the waist, arms hugging his body, rocking back and forth. The cascading water almost drowned out his moans and crying.

  This was the worst moment of his life. Did she even love him anymore? Had she been planning to run off with this guy? It was really over, his marriage? He rubbed his fists into his eyes.

  Chapter 9

  Oh God. A jackhammer was pounding in her head. Her eyes were swollen and refused to part wider than a slit. What was that beeping sound? Oh God, everything hurt. And the fucking migraine. That sure as hell wasn’t a God damned dream.

  She tried swallowing but her mouth was dry and something was on her upper lip. Her hand rose to her mouth, wincing at the soreness in her arm. There was sort of hard tube against her nostrils. What was happening?

  This time, by sheer force of will, one eye opened. There were tiny holes in the ceiling. This wasn’t her bedroom. She didn’t have a cardboard tiled ceiling. Her gaze shifted to the right. There was a curtain, netted near the top. The other eye popped open and she looked to the left. Glen was sitting in a chair next to her, his head tilted to the side, snoring softly. What was wrong with him? Shit, everything hurt!

  A pretty woman’s face peered down and murmured something. Abby placed her hand on the bed to back away from her. Now the woman’s hand was pressing her shoulder. And Glen’s hand was on her other shoulder. What was going on?

  “Gghhhhh….” Was that her voice?

  “Abby! Oh my God, Abby!” Glen’s eyes were filling up with tears. What the hell was going on?

  “Ggghhh….” She cleared her throat. Fuck, her mouth tasted like a toilet! “Glen? What—“ Her voice came out like some fucking croak! “Whazz goin’ onnn?”

  “You’re okay Abby. You had a car accident and you’re in the hospital. Thank God, you’re awake.” His face was leaking. Jesus! Glen was crying? What the hell is going on?

  “Whooo had a acksiden’” What the hell is wrong with her throat?

  “Baby… you did.”

  A car accident? How could that be? Claire had dropped her off at the house just a few minutes ago! What car? What was he talking about? This made no sense; but oh shit she hurt. How bad was she hurt? She wiggled her toes and felt the cotton fabric brush over them. She wasn’t paralyzed. She could see and hear but the pain in her head and face was agonizing.

  “Mrs. Henkel you’ve been unconscious for two days. You sustained a blow to the head. I’m going to get the doctor now and let him know you’re awake.” The nurse had a nice smile, dazzling, white teeth.

  “Abby we were so worried about you. Peter and I’ve been here since they brought you in.” His eyes opened wide. “Peter! Look, I’ll be right back.” He ran out of the room.

  She watched him leave the curtained area. Oh my God. She’d been asleep for two days? What the hell did she and Claire drink? No! They had ice cream! What the hell is going on? She shifted on the bed, jerking when the pain became an arrow in her muscle. She managed to raise herself enough to see the IV bottle and the tube taped to the top of her hand. Another tube emerged from the bed near her thigh. Oh my God. Two days?

  The curtain parted and Peter’s face appeared. He was grinning ear to ear and brushing his hand over his eyes as he rushed to her bed.

  “Mommy! Mom!” He grabbed her hand tightly. “You’re awake! You made the test!” He was crying too. What the hell is wrong with everyone?

  “Test?”

  “Yeah. The doctor said that if you woke up within seventy-two hours you’d be fine. You did it in forty-eight! You’re going to be all right, Mom.” Why the hell was he crying then? She tried to raise her hand to comfort the boy, but her arm was too heavy.

  Her eyes flitted to the curtain which had parted once more. A young man in green hospital garb was coming in to see her, also wearing a smile.

  “Mrs. Henkel. I’m Dr. Surabi. I’m glad to see you awake. I’d like to do some tests with you to determine if there’s damage to your sensory motor skill or cognitive abilities.” He looked at Peter. “I’m sorry. Can you come back in half an hour?”

  Peter gave her hand another squeeze and turned to leave.

  ***

  Thank you God, if you’re there and you helped her. The floor, people and curtains creating the hallway were a blurred vision as Peter’s feet almost flew from the ward. She was going to be all right and she’d be home soon.

  He pushed the door open and jogged to the waiting room where his father sat. The ol
d man jumped to his feet when the door burst open. He was wearing the same grin as his. His father’s strong arms were around him holding him tight as they swayed together for a moment. When his father released him, they looked into each other’s eyes.

  “She’s going to be all right. I’d better go back and see—“His father started to say.

  “You can’t Dad. The doctor’s doing some tests on her right now. He said to wait a half hour.” He took a couple of steps and flopped down in a chair. “Dad.”

  He watched his father turn and take a seat next to him. God, the old man was starting to look old. He’d never noticed the gray hair at his temples before.

  “What?” His father’s eyes were still dancing.

  “I’m sorry Dad. I’m sorry about the whole rec-room thing with Josee. I swear it’ll never happen again.”

  “What? You’ll never have sex again?” His eyes sparkled. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  Peter looked to the side and grinned. “Not in the rec room. That’s what I meant.” He paused for a moment and looked at the floor. “Dad, I wonder if Mom was thinking of that when she had the car accident. Maybe she got distracted from her driving, y’know.”

  His father’s hand pressed down on his shoulder and he turned to face him. “Don’t think that. We don’t know how it happened. Sometimes just freak, stupid shit, just…happens. Maybe when she gets her memory back, we’ll find out.”

  His heart rose up to his throat. “She doesn’t remember the accident?” How many other things would she have forgot? Could it be that he’d dodged a bullet. Christ, that’d be too good to be true.

  “No. And if she forgets about the rec-room thing, I’m not going to remind her. Just don’t do it again, k?” This time his father’s face held a warning. “How ‘bout you call Claire and give her the news. I’m going to get a coffee. Want anything?”

  ***

  Glen pushed the elevator button and stood waiting. Thank Christ, she’d be all right. But what about this affair and the sexy clothes? He’d have to talk to her sooner or later about that--but not until she was better. She’d probably be laid up for a few weeks at home anyway. She wouldn’t be sneaking off to see some guy with those shiners.