by JC Wallace
“I had such high hopes for you. You were on track to be a top-rated attorney, not just in this firm but the entire state.”
Disappointment.
“Collins, a first-year intern, uncovered that information months ago.”
Failure.
I surveyed the piles of evidence on the table. Months and fucking months of collecting, sending the newbies out, and my father had been pulling their strings, holding back information, testing me. And he was right.
“Collins will pick you up at ten AM sharp for the doctor’s appointment your sister told me about. Next time don’t wait until the last minute to let me know about needing a ride.” And then he hung up.
I set my phone onto the table. He was my father. Someone I’d strove to impress and emulate, subsisting (since I was old enough to remember) on scraps of his praise and attention. Scraps.
I closed my eyes.
I’m self-sufficient. I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anyone.
The chanting filled my head. Burrowing in and rooting out doubt, self-pity, the aching agony of being so fucking alone. My jaw clenched, and my muscles bunched and pulsed, spasmed. Despite the agony, I stood, extended my arm, and wiped the table clean of the last five months of failure.
I didn’t need anyone.
Especially not Jacob Divine.
****
Chapter 5
Nine fifty-nine on the dot, Mark Collins pulled up in front of the house, driving one of the Town Cars from work. I watched through the sidelight of my front door as he fixed his hair in the mirror and straightened his tie. An arrogant move for a peon. A peon who’d bested me at my job.
I frowned and pulled on my ball cap and shades. I flicked up the collar of my jacket. Between that, the glasses, and the hat, the scars on my face were less noticeable. Nothing could help the limp. I had an ugly, geriatric-looking cane I was supposed to use but wouldn’t be caught dead with in public.
Wendy had set up this doctor’s appointment, texting me the date and time a few days ago. That was the only contact we’d had since the hospital. Maybe she really was done with me. If she had been, she wouldn’t have bothered setting up the appointment, right? I’d been willing to let the appointment go by without notice. Of course, Wendy had used my father, knowing I wouldn’t tell him no. I exhaled deeply and left my house for the first time, voluntarily, in over two weeks.
Mark jumped out of the car and opened the right back door for me. “Good morning, Mr. Breaux.”
Fucking eager shit.
“Yeah,” I muttered and got inside, using all of my strength to hide any hint of difficulty or pain.
Settling in, I ignored any attempts at small talk until Mark mentioned my civil case. “If you need any help with depositions, research, anything, let me know.”
God, had I ever been that willing, that disposed, that annoying.
No. My father had berated those behaviors out of me at a young age. Be indifferent but knowledgeable, unavailable and then they will do anything to get you.
Wasn’t doing me any good right then. No one wanted me. Not even…
I nearly groaned. Jacob had to go. I’d have to talk to my father. It was the only way Wendy would back off and the man would disappear.
“I don’t need anything at the moment.”
Mark looked up into the rearview mirror, and I was sure I saw him smirk. Luckily, we pulled into the hospital parking lot just then. When he stopped in the unloading zone, he turned and lifted his glasses. Yeah, that sincerity on his face was nothing a criminal or civil lawyer should have.
“Well, when you do, give me a call at the office, or on my cell.” That’s when I saw the card in his hand, which he extended over the seat.
Not a chance in hell.
I exited the car without his help or the business card. I heard the driver door open at the same time as the double doors before me.
“Call the office when you’re done,” Mark called out.
Entering through the automatic doors, I kept my eyes down, heading to the check-in desk. The flurry of activity in the waiting room caused me to look up without thought. The waiting room was filled with more people than usual. Many were couples or groups of adults sitting close, appearing to clutch one another. Clearly they were distraught, wringing hands, hugging, crying. I glanced to the left and peered through the doors to the emergency room, which shared a waiting room with the outpatient clinic. With the limited view I had, there were doctors and nurses racing around the halls, their paces frantic, frenzied, locked in professional mode.
As I stepped up to the check-in desk, an elderly woman had her gaze locked on the doors. She shared the same expression of distress that the rest of the people in the room held.
“Oh,” she said, finally noticing me there. Her gaze focused on the visible part of the scar on my left cheek.
Annoyed, I gave her my name and the doctor I was seeing before she could request the information herself.
“Dr. Reynolds is running late today. There’s been an accident on the interstate. A bus from the elementary school collided with a tractor trailer. Just awful,” she said and clutched at her chest. “We’re offering patients the choice to reschedule.”
She appeared to be searching me for some reaction to the news of the accident. Immediately, I wondered if the driver of either vehicle had been negligent. Drugs, not enough sleep, on the phone… heart attack? Could be worth millions for those parents and kids…
“Mr. Breaux?”
“I’ll wait,” I said.
It hadn’t been easy for me to get ready and make the trip to the hospital, and if I left, I wasn’t coming back. Besides, wait an hour then call the firm for a ride and no one would think I hadn’t seen the doctor.
I watched those around me through my mirrored shades, wondering if their loved ones were injured permanently and what I could get them for their pain and suffering. At one time, I hadn’t personally been able to equate the amount of money with the actual suffering, hadn’t known the truth of the trauma and the pain and the endless nightmare of enduring someone else’s mistake. Now millions didn’t even seem to scratch the surface.
The doors opened to the emergency room as a nurse called for a family to enter. Through the already crowded hallway of the ER, I could see the doors to the ambulance bay. I watched those doors open and a gurney enter. Paramedics in their black uniforms wheeled in a small child, maybe five or six? I couldn’t see the paramedics’ faces, and then the gurney was gone. Memories of that night when I’d been wheeled into the ER threatened to settle on me when someone called my name. Gratefully, I followed a short, pleasant nurse through a door as she apologized for the chaos. As if I cared.
“Dr. Reynolds has an order for an MRI to be done before your appointment. Wait here and someone will come and get you shortly.”
Before I could protest, she was gone. Jacob had to have something to do with that. I sat, the pain from being on the hard plastic chair in the waiting room catching up with me. In my pocket were my pain pills, but I couldn’t take one for another two hours. Shifting in the chair, I pulled out my phone, checking my emails as people bustled by. The double doors at the end of the hall were constantly opening and closing. I’d been at the hospital for almost an hour. Thinking I should stand and stretch, I prepped myself for the task when those doors opened again.
“Come sit out here.” A handsome man in blue scrubs stepped through guiding a paramedic in a black uniform with short sleeves.
Jacob.
A very shaky Jacob lowered himself onto a seat near the door. The man sat next to him. Jacob was pale, too pale, and his hands were clasped. Even from that distance, I could see that they were shaking. He wiped at his mouth, his stare fixed on a point straight ahead that I wasn’t even sure was in that hallway.
The man beside him rested his hand on Jacob’s shoulder and murmured something I couldn’t make out. But Jacob remained stolid, blinking only periodically, and I wondered what had happened to h
im. Had he been hurt? I pulled off my sunglasses and raised the brim of my hat to get a better look. Blood covered parts of his forearms and there were splatters on his cheeks. His hands were clean, probably from wearing gloves. But my eyes went back to the blood. Red and the black uniform and Jacob and the hospital, and I was losing my grip on reality.
So much darkness. And pain. And blood. I was no longer in the hospital.
So much blood. Everywhere in my car. Where had all of the blood come from? How could it all be mine? So much lost would mean I was dead or nearly dead. If I was, then why was the pain so great? There were flashing red and blue lights. Voices everywhere and then a deafening noise filled the air. A fireman in his black jacket with the reflective stripes and wearing thick gloves held something that looked like a giant pair of jaws.
“Hey… Hey. Look at me… Over here!” Someone was talking to me, but I had a hard time focusing. “Hey!” To the right a man leaned through the broken passenger side window. “That’s right. Focus on me. What’s your name?”
What was my name? All I could think about was dying. I couldn’t breathe. My face felt as if someone had taken a knife to it. Burning, stabbing pain. I wondered if I even had a face anymore.
“Tell me your name!” he shouted louder.
“P-Paul Breaux.” The words were garbled. His eyebrows rose, and then he was impassive again.
“Paul. I’m Jacob and I’m a paramedic. I need you to focus on me. We’re going to cut you out, and it’s going to get loud. Don’t be scared.”
Too late. My focus was fleeting, probably along the lines of a rabbit being chased by a fox. Fuck me, I had to get out of that car. Had to get out. Had to—
“Paul! Focus here!”
His hand reached over and touched my arm enough to ground me. Pain, oh fuck me, the pain licked at every one of my nerves.
Metal crunched, the sound intensifying until it punched through, and then the roof was removed. I reached for the hand on my arm, grasping hold as my vision started to fade.
“I think… I’m going to pass… out.”
Dread, panic, my heart racing, passing out should have been impossible. But the blood. People passed out from blood loss. People died from blood loss.
“You’re doing good, Paul. Listen, I’m coming around the car.”
“Don’t leave me!” I gripped his hand.
“No way. I’m coming over to your side so I can get closer and check you out. It’ll take me two seconds. Okay?”
Unsure, fearful beyond thinking, I was able to agree. Nodding sharply, he disappeared into the darkness.
“Here I am.” The man was beside me. What was his name again?
“The t-truck hit me,” I muttered.
My face felt wrong, as if it were in pieces, and not working properly.
“Yeah,” he said as he started to pack gauze around my face.
“Something’s wrong… my face.”
I looked to where the rearview mirror had been, but it was missing. The entire windshield had practically exploded.
The paramedic kept packing the gauze, and I had to wonder where it was all going. Those amber eyes, caring, steady and sure, were settling. “You have some cuts from the glass.” The paramedic looked to the left, talking frantically with someone. I needed his eyes back on me.
“P-please…”
The paramedic turned back, and his face was so kind. His eyes. Amber, bright in the lights that were illuminating the darkness around us.
“Okay, Paul. We have to get you out of the car. But first we have to get a collar around your neck…”
And there was a bunch of other info, but my focus tunneled on his eyes. I was going to die. Die in my wrecked Maserati. But I wasn’t alone. I was woozy, my head swimming, worse than when I’d misjudged the altitude while climbing Lhotse and had nearly blacked out. The darkness encroached, stealing the vision of my savior.
“Help me,” I croaked, my terror reaching new levels.
Then those amber eyes were right in my face. So close. So close I could feel his hot breath on my lips. Such an intimate position in the middle of hell. And I tried not to, but my eyes closed.
“Paul, you’re staying right here with me. Right here, and I’m not leaving you. Take some deep breaths. Calm down.” But I couldn’t breathe. “Paul. Come back. Hey, Paul!”
I opened my eyes, my chest heaving, needing air. Where was all of the air?
“Hey, Paul, look at me. I’m right here.”
I frowned, and Jacob came into focus before me. The worry on his face was vast, and I wasn’t sure why he wasn’t holding my face. The darkness had disappeared. The man in blue scrubs stood behind Jacob with assessing eyes. A nurse next to him was ready to spring into action. I looked around. White walls, bright florescent lights, antiseptic smell. The hospital. My appointment.
Jacob’s eyes never wavered from mine. I looked to his arms.
“So much blood,” I whispered.
****
Chapter 6
“Shit.” Jacob looked to where my gaze was focused and then to the doctor. “He’s okay. Thanks, Thom.” The man nodded but didn’t move. “I’m okay, too. Promise.”
The man and the nurse went back through the doors.
“What happened?” Jacob asked, his hand rubbing over my thigh. I hadn’t noticed his hand there.
Humiliation, unlike I’d ever felt, rose with the bile in my throat. I averted my eyes and moved my legs away so his hand fell off of my thigh.
“I’m fine. Sorry.”
Please go away.
His fingers found my wrist, touching my skin. “I’m just taking your pulse. You’re very pale. Are you feeling nauseous?”
I shook my head.
“Pain level?”
Why did he have to touch me? “Five.”
“Okay.” He was silent a moment his hand still on my pulse point. I had to look at him to see what he was doing. His gaze locked on mine. “You were unresponsive for a while. Your eyes were open, and I’d say you had an absence seizure or something similar, but that’s not what happened, was it?”
Clenching my jaw wasn’t helping the situation so I blew out a breath then shook my head.
“I didn’t think so. You mentioned the blood.”
Just the word churned my stomach. “Guess I don’t like the sight of blood.”
He hummed disbelievingly, and while I wanted to be angry, I couldn’t summon any ire. When had that ever happened? I had enough anger to fuel a nuclear explosion. A pool of molten lava in my core. Right then, there was nothing but the shaky aftereffects of a flashback. Fuck, I was exhausted.
“You look like hell,” he stated without emotion. So clinical. So detached. An assessment, not a judgement.
“So do you,” I countered.
He nodded but still remained crouched on the floor. “You here for your MRI?”
“And to see Dr. Reynolds.” Why I had given him that information, I’d never know.
“Done any of those yet?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s with the twenty questions? I’m fine.”
He released my wrist, and the skin where his warm fingers had been became cold. I didn’t like it. He licked at his lips, a nervous gesture that in court would have me on the attack. “I’m off duty now. I was going to head for a shower and if you want… I mean… I could come with you to your appointment with Dr. Reynolds. I’d like to talk to him about your meds. Not to butt in, just for ten minutes or so.”
I was shaking my head before he finished. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone. And as soon as I could arrange it, he would be gone.
“Some of the meds are contraindicated with your type of injury. What I’m seeing is that your inconsistent care has led to different doctors prescribing meds that might make your symptoms worse. At least let me help you with this, even if I don’t treat you any further.”
Damn him and those amber eyes. Acting as if he cared. But if I allowed him to do this, it sounded as if
he wouldn’t push treating me anymore. May be a good compromise so I nodded. His hand returned to my thigh. The smile he flashed was as brilliant as the sun, and something fluttered in my chest.
My hand moved of its own accord, intent on touching his. What the hell? I crossed my arms to stop the movement.
“Paul Breaux,” an older man in scrubs called out from down the hall.
Time for my MRI thanks to the man in front of me who had me all twisted up inside. I hated it.
“I’ll meet you at your next appointment. At…?”
“It was at eleven, but with the bus crash I was told they were running late.”
The tension was visible as it filled Jacob, even his hand twitched, but he held his professional face. “I’ll find out where they’re at after I shower and meet you here when you’re done. Okay?”
Anything to get away from him for a while and get a grip. I was slipping further, putting more of myself out there, and it was dangerous. I wouldn’t allow myself to be rejected. I knew how I looked, how unattractive I was, and I’d do well to remember that.
When I nodded, he walked away. I didn’t notice how his ass looked in those snug, black pants. I didn’t.
****
My choices around this man were quickly going south. He was in my house again, invited by me. By me. What the fuck was I doing? Feeling. That’s what I was doing. Even though he was trying to be upbeat and smile, I could see the storm in his troubled eyes, something large, something that unsettled the air around him.
As we entered the house, he trailed behind me. It had been so long since I’d had true company that I needed to stop and remember my manners. Since it was almost two, I went for food and drink.
“Not very hungry. Right now I’d take a beer… Sorry, I’m sure you don’t—”
“Fridge under the bar in the living room.”
Jacob had changed from his uniform and was in a pair of faded jeans and a red T-shirt. The man could wear anything and look good. Which wasn’t the point. I had no clue what the point was. He was there, and I was stuck with him.