by M. Leighton
“What? No,” I said halfheartedly. I was taken off guard and that was all the conviction I could muster.
“Don’t lie to me, Ridley,” Drew hissed through his gritted teeth, flinging my hand off his arm with a furious swipe.
“To be honest, Drew, I just don’t feel the same way about you anymore. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s me,” I proclaimed, regretting that last choice of words as soon as they were out of my mouth. They were sure to incite a reaction in almost anybody.
“It’s you, huh?” He grabbed my upper arms in a steely grip. “Well that much I know. It’s you screwing the new guy. That’s what it is,” he spat. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not.”
His fingers felt like they were digging all the way into my bones, he gripped me so tightly. “Drew, you’re hurting me.”
“You can’t, can you?” As he spoke, he pulled me up onto my toes and into his chest so that my nose was nearly touching his. “Admit it,” he shouted down at me.
“Drew, I told you—”
“Nothing but lies,” he interrupted, giving me a little shake. “You’re hot for the new guy, you just won’t admit it. You’re a whore just like Trinity.”
A little thread of fear was working its way around my jack-hammering heart.
“Drew—”
“Admit it,” he yelled again, shaking me harder.
Just as a real panic was about to set in, a voice sounded from the shadows.
“Let her go.”
I exhaled in relief, instantly recognizing it. It was Bo. Drew and I both turned to look back at the bleachers.
Bo stepped out into the thin beam of light that shone across the grass from the field house and he stopped there. To me, he looked intimidating. He stood, half in shadow, with his arms crossed over his chest, eyeing Drew steadily, silently.
“Well, well, well. Look who it is,” Drew sneered, pushing me away from him and turning his body to face Bo. “She’s nothing but a lying whore. You sure you want to lose some teeth over a girl like that?”
“I won’t be the one losing teeth,” Bo said, his tone matter-of-fact.
Physically they looked pretty evenly matched. Nonetheless, I was nervous for both of them. I didn’t want Drew to get hurt any more than he already was and I certainly didn’t want to see anything happen to Bo. As far as I was concerned it was a lose–lose situation all the way around.
Although Drew and I were at least twenty feet from Bo, I still felt like the situation needed more of a buffer, so I stepped over in front of Drew to face him. I wasn’t taking a stance in opposition to him, facing off against him with Bo, but that must’ve been how Drew perceived it.
“Bo, Drew was just leaving,” I said, turning my head slightly to direct my words over my shoulder at Bo. My eyes never left Drew, and I addressed him more quietly. “This has gone far enough, Drew. We can talk more later, after you’ve calmed down.”
Drew’s hands shot out and grabbed me by the arms again. “What if I want to talk now?”
I don’t know how he moved so quickly, but it seemed like the instant that Drew’s fingers touched my arms, Bo was at my side. He was so close I could feel his body brushing mine from hip to shoulder. His chest and belly were pressed against me and his arm was stretched out beside my head. He was reaching past me, his fingers wound tightly around Drew’s throat.
“Touch her again,” Bo said softly, the warning clear in his tone.
I felt Drew’s fingers loosen their hold as he released me. I was just about to move out of the way when I decided that maybe they were both safer with me between them. It was my indecision that caused what happened next.
I can only guess that when I started to move out of the way, Drew saw it as an opportunity to get in the first strike, a sucker punch. He brought his fist around in an upper cut aimed right at Bo’s chin. Unfortunately, when I stepped back into position, his fist connected with my jaw on the way up instead.
Violently, my head snapped back on my neck. I saw a bright flash of light and heard a sickening crunch just before a pain more intense than anything I’ve ever felt sliced through my head. It lasted only for a fraction of a second before a black sea of nothingness drowned out sight, sound and, thankfully, feeling.
CHAPTER FOUR
Clarity and awareness came and went for what seemed like hours. I remember very little before coming semi-awake in a cool room that smelled like Bo. There was something wet against my lips and it made them feel warm and tingly. I licked them and whatever it was tasted salty with a hint of sweetness.
That taste and the smell of Bo were the only things that seemed even halfway clear. I heard voices, but they echoed as if I were listening to them from far away through a tunnel.
“She needs more,” I heard Bo say to someone. “You’re going to have to open her mouth.”
“Her jaw’s broken, Bo. What if—” a woman’s voice was saying before Bo interrupted.
“It has to be done if I’m going to heal her. Just do it,” he growled impatiently, cutting her off.
Next I felt the faint pressure of tender fingers at my cheek. It was like being touched when the numbing from the dentist is just beginning to wear off—barely perceptible. But then someone tried to force what felt like a finger between my teeth. Excruciating pain shot through my entire skull. A scream bubbled up in my throat, but the second my jaw strained the tiniest bit to let it out, the pain worsened, becoming so severe I lost that tenuous hold on the world again.
When next I woke, I couldn’t decide if hours had elapsed since that horrible pain, or mere seconds. My body felt like lead and my head felt like cotton. With great effort I raised my hand to my face and touched my fingers gingerly to my cheek. I half expected to feel something swollen and totally misshapen, but I didn’t.
I ran my hand all along my left cheek and jaw line then around my chin to the other side. It felt like my face, the same way it had felt all my life.
Slowly inhaling, I held my breath and pressed ever so slightly into the flesh where my jaw hinged. It was a little sore, but nothing like what I would’ve expected considering how badly it had hurt earlier.
Hazily, Bo’s words came back to me as if reaching out to my consciousness through a dense fog.
It has to be done if I’m gonna heal her, he’d said. I had to have imagined that. I mean, obviously that couldn’t have been what I’d heard. People couldn’t just heal a broken jaw, which was what I’m pretty sure I had, thanks to Drew. I could still remember the white hot pain. I shuddered to think of it.
Letting my hand drop, I listened closely to what was going on around me. Muffled movements and faint whispers were coming from another room. I couldn’t make out anything concrete and I still had no idea where I was.
I lay perfectly still, trying to remember what had happened, but the strain of thinking only served to make my head throb rebelliously.
I heard the creak of floorboards a few feet away. The hushed rustle of movement alerted me to the presence of someone in the room with me, but I wasn’t ready to be awake yet, so I left my eyes closed and kept my breathing slow and steady, hoping I was convincing enough to fool the casual observer.
The footsteps didn’t approach me, but whoever it was didn’t move for a few seconds. They must’ve been checking on me, watching me from maybe a hall or a doorway.
Finally, the creak sounded again and I could hear soft footfalls fade as the person walked away. Seconds later, I heard a woman’s voice coming from another room. It was the same voice I thought I’d heard earlier, talking to Bo.
“She’s still out,” she said quietly. “You need to feed before she wakes up. You’ll have to take her home and you can’t go like that.”
I heard nothing for a moment, but then the dull scrape of what sounded like a chair scooting back sounded right before nearly silent tread approached the room I was in. I cracked my eyelids the tiniest bit, just enough so I could see through my eyelashes.
A dim light was shining through the doorway
to my left. As I listened to the footsteps, I watched the doorway for someone to appear. I heard the boards creak as if someone had stopped just inside the room, but I saw no one.
That tangy, soapy scent that I associated with Bo became more pronounced, tickling my nose and bringing to mind an image of his endless dark eyes. I don’t know where the smell was coming from, though, because I was still very much alone.
Deep and even, I kept breathing, watching covertly, until I heard the floorboards creak again, followed by the sound of footsteps fading back into the other room.
I listened and I waited. Just barely, I could hear the muted sounds of activity as well as a couple of short whispers. I strained to make out words or identify voices, but it was no use. They were just too quiet.
A sudden grinding sound caused me to jump, but when I heard ice cubes hitting the bottom of a glass, I calmed, recognizing the noise as an icemaker. The one at our house sounded just like that.
The refrigerator door opened and closed and then I heard some shuffling. Footsteps sounded on the floor, much more loudly this time, and then a shadow appeared in the dim shaft of light coming through the open door.
They knew I was awake.
“Ridley, my name is Denise Bowman. I’m Jonathan’s mother,” the kind feminine voice said from the doorway.
I turned my head as her shadow came further into the room. She reached beside my head to snap on a bedside lamp.
I squinted into the light and looked up at the tiny woman leaning over me. Though she was a very attractive woman, she didn’t look very much like Bo. She was petite and had dark skin and blue eyes. The contrast with her midnight hair was striking. That was the only trait it appeared that they shared—their dark hair.
She smiled down at me and the corners of her eyes crinkled. It was a sweet, comforting gesture that put me at ease right away.
“Where’s Bo?” The question came out as a hoarse croak.
“Don’t try to talk too much yet. Here, have a sip of water,” she said, holding a straw to my lips.
Tentatively, I pursed my lips and took a small sip. When nothing cried out in agony, I took a longer draw from it. The cold liquid was like a soothing balm to my dry throat and burning tongue.
I cleared my throat. “What happened?”
I knew that I got punched, but little more than that was clear.
“Bo said you had a bit of a run-in with your boyfriend,” she answered diplomatically.
“Ex boyfriend,” I murmured.
“What?”
I asked instead, “How did I end up here?”
“Bo brought you here so he wouldn’t have to take you home unconscious.”
I nodded. That was probably smart. “What time is it?”
“Twenty after eleven,” she said, glancing down at her watch.
Wow! I’d been out longer than I’d thought.
“I’m sorry to impose on you this way,” I said, sitting up and dropping my legs over the side of the bed. I was only upright for a few seconds when the room began to tilt and sway. I teetered, leaning back on my elbow to keep from falling over. “Whoa!”
“You shouldn’t move too fast. Apparently, you took a pretty good knock to the head.”
I closed my eyes to give the room time to return to rights, but it was reluctant to do so. I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead and my stomach sloshed with nausea.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said weakly, saliva pouring into my mouth.
“Lay back down on your side. I’ll be right back,” she said, scurrying off.
I did as she instructed and the nausea and dizziness abated almost immediately. I heard Bo’s mother opening and closing cabinet doors and then I heard water running.
While she was gone, I seized the opportunity to take in my surroundings.
I was in a small bedroom with one window, which was covered in thick, black curtains that matched the comforter on which I was lying. The walls were a medium gray and a plush black rug covered most of the shiny hardwood floors.
The colors alone made it clear that it was a guy’s room, but as I looked more closely, I could see hints of Bo here and there. His black hoodie hung on the back of the door, a watch I’d seen him wear was thrown on top of the dresser, and his messenger bag lay in the floor by the nightstand.
It was incredibly comforting just being in his room, in his bed, much more so than I ever would’ve imagined. I melted into the mattress, turning my face into the pillow and inhaling deeply. I could smell him as if he was lying right next to me.
Bo’s mother came back into the room carrying a bucket, a wet cloth, and an armful of assorted supplies. I had to smile. It was like the kit I kept under the sink for Mom.
She laid the wet rag on my forehead and asked, “Do you still feel sick?”
“No. I think I just got up too fast,” I admitted. “I’m sorry to put you to all this trouble.”
“You’re no trouble at all. I’m only sorry we had to meet this way,” she said.
I didn’t know how to respond to that. Was that just a generic comment or did she know who I was? Had Bo mentioned me?
Warmth spread through me at the mere prospect of Bo telling his mother about me. I have no idea why that would please me so much, but it did.
Since she hadn’t answered me the first time, I asked again, “Where is Bo, by the way?”
“He’s running an errand for me. He’ll be back shortly to take you home,” she explained.
Thoughts of home made me remember my mangled face. I reached up to touch my cheek again, knowing it had to be at least three different colors.
“How bad is it?”
A strange look flitted over her face before it smoothed out. “What? How bad is what?”
“My face,” I specified.
“Your face is fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Um, because Drew punched me. Hard. And I remember it hurting so badly that I thought my jaw was broken.”
She was watching me closely. “Well, it looks fine to me. How does it feel?”
Gingerly, I worked the joint. It seemed stiff more than anything, but certainly not broken.
“A little stiff, but ok.”
“Good. Maybe you won’t even have a bruise.”
“But how—” I began, but then remembered what I thought I’d heard Bo say. “Did Bo—”
I stopped myself.
Ms. Bowman’s eyes were alert and a tiny frown creased her brow. “Did Bo what?” The way she prompted me seemed a bit anxious.
What exactly did I remember? Nothing that made sense, that’s for sure. I could hardly admit to his mother that I thought I’d heard him say he’d heal me. She’d have me in the ER getting my brain scanned as soon as I could say spit.
I shook my head, hoping it might rid it of crazy thoughts and half-baked memories.
“Nothing. Sorry, everything’s still a little hazy.” I looked down, away from her perceptive eyes, and it was then that I noticed her clothes. “Are you a nurse?”
She seemed puzzled at first. “What?” But then she noticed me looking at her scrubs. “Oh, these? No, I’m not a nurse. I’m a lab tech and phlebotomist.”