“I saw him stumble. He had blood pouring down the side of his face, but he kept wrestling with the guy. I pulled on him as hard as I could, and screamed for him to get down, but he only pushed me back. That’s when I fell and hit my head. Next thing I knew he was covering me with his own body, and I could hear and feel when the other bullets hit him–the impacts, the groans of pain he made. The whole time he kept talking to me. ‘I’ve got you, Ellie, I’ve got you’. He said it over and over while I was screaming for him to save himself, and not me. He didn’t listen.”
We sit there in silence for several minutes, except for my sniffling–me trying to stop reliving it, and Scott trying to absorb everything I’ve told him I suppose.
“It sounds to me like it wouldn’t have mattered what you did. He would have gone after that guy either way. I know him pretty well, and he would’ve never let that guy hurt you, and I guarantee he would’ve never let them take you either. He probably would’ve died before he let them get out that door with you. He’s not the type of person to stand by and not help someone when they need it. You remind me of him in that way,” he says, grinning over at me.
I huff. “You mean we’re both stubborn, and don’t listen to anyone, right?”
He laughs a little. “Maybe, but mostly you have big hearts and kind souls. You’re good people.”
“Thank you, but you hardly know me.”
“And you hardly know Nik, yet here you are, doing everything you can to help him. That’s enough for me.”
“He’s very lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Thanks, but that applies to you, too. You ready to go in?”
“Yeah, we better hurry if we want to get everything done and get back.”
We both climb out of the car, and I follow him up the steps. As soon as he gets the key in the door I hear a high-pitched bark coming from inside.
“He has a little dog?” I stifle a laugh. I figured he’d have a big dog to match his own impressive size. I can’t imagine him with some tiny, little fluff ball.
Scott laughs at my expression. “Roxie’s small, but she’s no frou-frou dog, I promise,” he says, swinging the door open.
Once I walk in I see he’s right. Roxie comes tearing down the hall at full speed, sliding to a halt at Scott’s feet, only to start bouncing like her legs are pogo sticks.
She is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Like a Doberman and dachshund mashed together. She has a sleek, shiny black and tan coat, no tail, and the biggest set of ears I’ve ever seen on a dog. They look like satellite dishes sticking out of the sides of her head. Her body is long and lean like a dachshund’s, but she’s twice as tall as most of them are. You’d think she’d still be barking her head off, but other than some happy whining, she’s quiet as can be.
“Hi, cutie! Look at you!” I squat down to greet her, and almost fall over when she jumps up on one of my thighs proceeding to cover my face with wet kisses, as she balances precariously on my leg.
“Roxie, that’s enough. Get down,” Scott tells her calmly, and she immediately jumps down and sits at my feet.
Well, she’s cute and trained.
“Oh, my God. She is so adorable. What is she? I’ve never seen a dog like her before.”
“She’s a mutt. One of Nik’s students found her under an abandoned house when she was a tiny thing, and brought her into class with him. Nik kept her either on his lap or in his arms that whole day. He said it was so she wouldn’t disrupt class, but when he took her home with him that afternoon everyone knew it was because he adored her already. She’s every bit as attached to him.”
“How in the world couldn’t you fall in love with this face? Look at her!” I coo while scooping her up in my arms. “You miss your daddy, don’t you girl? The poor thing, I hate the thought of leaving her here by herself for weeks.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll come back by and get her tonight. She’s stayed with me before when he’s went to visit Leia,” he says, leading me through the house and into the kitchen.
I finally get my mind off the dog, putting her down and look around the house. It’s gorgeous, like it could be in a magazine gorgeous. Not one of those girly ones, but the high-end ones like Architectural Digest or something.
It’s so clean and neat. There’s a lot of black and white, with pops of masculine colors here and there. Nik was right when he said he had new and old furniture. I can see very modern pieces mixed in with antiques. I love it. It’s easy to imagine him walking through these rooms in his jeans and white shirt with his bare feet. He would fit right into those beautiful pictures in the magazines.
Lordy, that would be a sight. It would be even better if all he had on were jeans.
Okay Ellie, that’s enough! He won’t be walking through here like that for months, bare feet or not. And he is not yours to be thinking about that way.
“I’m gonna run up and get some stuff for him. Make yourself at home. Wander around and check out the house if you want,” Scott tells me, breaking me out of my internal musings as he finishes up with Roxie’s food. She starts chowing down.
The poor thing must have been starving, bless her heart.
I leave her to it, and walk around to check out the house. The kitchen is huge and all black and white. All the appliances are stainless steel, too. I’m in love with his stove. It has eight burners and two ovens underneath it.
I wonder if he ever actually uses it. Maybe if he has his students over?
I can see him standing in front of that stove cooking. He’s making breakfast for me, and he’s only in his boxer briefs. All of his smooth, tanned back and chest are on display. The fabric of his briefs hugging his perfect ass, and something else we won’t mention in the front. I can imagine myself walking up to him wearing nothing but his white shirt, running my hands up the hard, smooth muscles of his stomach, and up to his chest as I kiss my way across his back from shoulder to shoulder.
Oh my God, Ellie! Stop! What the hell is wrong with you?
I hurry out of the kitchen, and hopefully away from my perverted thoughts, heading outside to the terrace. His backyard isn’t big, but it’s nice and shady with several large trees sprinkled throughout. There’s a patio area below me, and another small terrace above me on the third floor. I would imagine it’s connected to the master bedroom. I’m not going to take myself and my perverted mind up there to find out though.
Lord knows what kind of sexy things my brain would come up with if I saw his bed.
I go back in, and wander through the living room. The sofa is big, white, and spacious. He might be able to spend a few weeks on it if he needed to. It’s low to the ground though, which would be great for someone like me, but with his long ass legs it probably won’t be. A hospital bed might be the way to go for a while. I’m sure he’ll hate that idea.
There’s three very unique wooden tables at the end of the sofa. I wonder if he made them. They remind me of mushrooms that have had most of their tops cut off. With the way they’re made it looks like you could use them as tables or stools, but I’m not gonna try out the stool part. The wood grain is so beautiful. I run my hand over the top of one, and I’m shocked at how smooth it is. If Nik made them, he did an amazing job. The rest of the furniture in here is very modern, but still soft enough to not look harsh or uncomfortable.
I walk into the hallway and run my hands along the thick, shiny black banister of the stairs. It’s so ornate, I can’t imagine the work that went into it. Since I’m not going upstairs to see the bedrooms, I decide to go downstairs and see his studio. I’m half way down when Roxie scares me to death as she flies by and zips straight outside through her doggy door.
When you gotta go, you gotta go.
The first thing I notice is the smell. If I closed my eyes, I’d think I was in a forest. I’m surrounded in the scent of fresh wood. It’s comforting for some reason. Other than two gorgeous modern chairs, everything down here looks old–old enough that my dad probably would have thought it
was all old, too.
The toolboxes, the work bench and stools–not to mention the hundreds of tools he has everywhere–are all worn with age. Despite that, everything looks like it has been lovingly preserved to be passed down to the next one that will use them. I have no idea what most of the tools do, but you can tell they have been used to make many things over the years.
I walk over to one of the modern chairs, and run my hands over the beautiful wood sections on it. They’re mostly made from some type of plastic or resin, I think, that’s been molded, but they have gorgeous sections of wood seamlessly fitted into the arms. The legs are made of the same wood, too. The design twists and flows as smoothly as water would. They stand out in stark contrast to the rest of the room. I’m still marveling at them when Scott comes down the stairs.
“Did he make these?” I ask him without looking up.
“He did. Those are some of my favorites of his.”
“I’ve never thought of furniture being a piece of art, but these definitely are. They’re amazing.”
“I agree. Nik has an incredible talent, and I have always enjoyed how he mixes the old with the new. We’re very lucky to have him at the school.” After a minute or two of my silence he speaks up again. “I hate to rush you, but we better run.”
“Oh gosh! I was in my own little world. It was nice getting to know him a little better. I just wish he was here to tell me about all of this. Let’s go, I’m ready.”
Roxie’s still outside running around and barking so we leave her to it. Another twenty minutes later and we’re heading down my driveway.
My driveway. That sounds weird. Not bad, but weird.
“This is a beautiful place, Ellie,” Scott tells me as we pull up.
“Thanks, I think so, too. I can finally be grateful that I have it. The memories aren’t so bad here.” I get out and head up the steps. He follows right behind. “I won’t be a minute. Look around if you want. The view off the back porch is great,” I tell him as we walk in.
I go straight to my room, and over to my suitcase. I never bothered to unpack it. I pull out some clean clothes to change into, and run to the bathroom. Once I’m dressed I go back to my suitcase and pick out some more to take with me. I could take the whole thing, but it’s too bulky. I look around in the closet hoping to find a smaller bag to put some stuff in, and find an old canvas book tote.
It doesn’t smell too musty, so I throw the clothes in, being sure to grab Rachael’s scrubs to take back to her. Maybe the hospital has somewhere I can wash them. I add a few of my bathroom things then pull my charger off the wall, and head back out. I stop in my tracks when I see Scott looking at the one picture I brought from home.
He quickly puts it down. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
I walk over, staring down at us, like always.
“Y’all look so happy,” he says.
“We were, for a little while anyway,” I whisper.
“Was he…
“Yeah, he was.” I trail my fingers over the frame, then make sure it’s straight. “You ready?”
“Umm, sure. Let’s get back and check on our hero.”
PROUD AS A PEACOCK
~
NIK
WAKING UP FROM A SECOND round of anesthesia doesn’t seem to be as hard as it was the first time. It’s not the slow climb to the surface I had before–at least not for my mind. One minute I’m asleep and the next I’m not. I like this way much better. Maybe it’s because I knew I was going into surgery before I was knocked out. Whatever made it easier, I’m grateful.
Someone’s in the room with me moving around quietly. Since I’m hearing a pen scribbling on a clipboard, and then typing on a computer, it’s probably Lacey. My machines are still beeping away, too.
Before I open my eyes, I take a minute to assess my body to see what’s causing me pain, and what isn’t. It’s pretty much all the same as before–my head, upper left side, and my right leg. It’s all dull pain right now. I better let Lacey know I’m awake before she leaves. I’m thirsty as hell again.
“Hey,” I whisper, looking around to see where she is. Instead of Lacey, it’s Rachael I find. I like her though, she reminds me of mom.
“Well, hello there, handsome. I’m sure glad to see you awake again,” she says, smiling brightly. “Not so bad waking up this time, huh?”
“Hi, Rachael,” I try to say a bit louder while giving her a thumbs up, but it sounds like that dying frog is back in my throat.
“You want some ice chips?”
I wave my thumb at her again while attempting to make an excited expression. It makes her laugh as she turns around and grabs the thermos and a spoon. I’m sighing in relief a few seconds later when the ice hits my tongue.
I swear they must pour sand down your throat when they knock you out–sand from a litter box by the way my mouth tastes. It’s nasty as hell. I’d give my left nut to have some mouthwash.
She spoons in a few more, and they help relieve the thirst and horrible taste. “Thank you,” I tell her, now that I can talk normal.
“You’re welcome, hon. How’s your pain doing?”
“It’s not bad. Not great, but not bad.”
“All right, I may bump up the amount. We’ve got you on a morphine pump now. You should be good for quite a while. We need to find just the right dose for you. Not so much to keep you knocked out all the time, but enough that you’re not hurting either. So, you let me know the second it’s not enough, okay?”
“Gotcha,” I whisper, and smile up at her. I haven’t looked down at my leg yet, I’m not sure I want to. I decide to ask her what she thinks instead. “How bad does my leg look? I want to be better prepared this time before I look down there,” I say, attempting to laugh off my nerves.
She chuckles. “It’s looking much better than the last time I saw it. You might think Dr. Tamayaka was trying to turn you into a robot though. He told you he was gonna use rods and pins, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, he did.”
“Well, some of them are inside your leg, and some are on the outside, too. Four pins and a rod to be exact, and there’s quite a few staples and stitches where he closed you up from the bullet wounds, as well as the surgery itself. Then there’s some swelling and bruising. We’ve got you hanging from the ceiling again, but I’m sure you can tell that already. Even with all of that, it still looks better, I promise.” She smiles and pats my shoulder.
I grin at her, doing my best to make it believable, then suck it up and look down at the damage.
Shit. That’s…freaky.
I appear to be part cyborg now–a cyborg that’s been in a bad fight and lost. From the looks of it, my leg is being held together with stitches, staples, screws, and a rod. Which I guess, it is. It’s straight again, and not nearly as bloody, thank God. The swelling is down from before, too. There are two screws about two inches apart right below my knee, and two more above my ankle spaced the same way. The rod is stretched between them.
It’s really unsettling to see screws coming out of your leg. They didn’t cut holes for them to go into either. It looks as if they literally screwed them straight through my skin, and then into the bone. I can tell because the skin is twisted a tiny bit around each one.
Thank God, they knocked my ass out before they did that.
I resemble Frankenstein’s monster there’s so many stitches and staples holding my skin together. There has to be at least fifty in the long line of them from my knee to my ankle. Then there’s a Y-shaped cluster that goes over that one, that probably has that many, or more. I guess that’s where the bullet came out. I’m assuming there’s more where it went into my calf, too, but I’m not moving my leg to find out. I look up at Rachael. “That’s a mess, isn’t it?”
She grins. “A bit.”
“At least I don’t want to puke when I look at it now. It was a close call before,” I say, grinning back at her.
“Oh, no, we don’t want any puking. You’d open every i
ncision you have, and wind up back in surgery,” she says, shaking her head.
“Thank you for calling him. I might have lost it if you hadn’t,” I tell her sincerely.
She pats my shoulder, smiling softly. “You’re welcome, hon. I’m just glad he made it back in time.”
“You and me both.” I smile. “Is he going to come talk to me about it and my recovery time? I don’t have a clue how to take care of that,” I grumble, waving at my leg. “How am I supposed to take a shower with it like this?”
“Both of your doctors are coming to see you tonight to go over everything with you, so don’t worry about that. If you want anyone in here with you to hear it all, too, that’s fine as long as none of them upset you. As for showers, you ain’t gonna be taking any of those any time soon, honey. It’s sponge baths for you for the next few weeks at least,” she says, grinning even bigger at me.
“Sponge baths?” I ask a little confused. All I can picture is SpongeBob. The morphine is still making it hard to think straight, apparently.
Her grin turns into a sly smile as she nods. “Yep. Someone’s gonna have to wash you with a sponge,” she says, wagging her eyebrows.
It takes a second for my brain to catch up to what’s being suggested.
She needs to hold up a minute.
I like her and all, but I don’t want her giving me a bath. That’d be too much, almost like my mom giving me one, and she quit doing that when I was five. Even Lacey would be pushing it. She’s so young, I’d feel like a perv. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have any feelings for her, she starts soaping my dick up and I’m not gonna be able to make him behave.
Nope, we’re not going there.
“Uh, is there any chance I can give those to myself?”
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