The nurse came in, giving her a boost of something she was positive was baby Tylenol, and left. Asshole. It wasn’t helping.
She moaned, and Apollo squeezed her hand. It was too much. Too much sensation and she tore her hand away. Inside her head, she wanted to tell him, “Sorry,” but she couldn’t find the words.
It took too much focus.
“What hurts, baby?”
Fucking everything. She wanted to say. And what the fuck was the deal with the plastic collar. It had a lip, and it dug into the back of her skull. The last thing she needed was more pressure on her head.
She touched her head, running her fingers over her skull until she found the collar. Then she pushed her fingers between her head and the collar. It was on so tight, she could barely sneak it in, but it felt so good just to have a little cushioning.
“Careful,” Apollo said.
He tried to lower her hand, and she smacked him away. “It hurts.”
“I know.”
He couldn’t know. He wasn’t the one wearing this fucking thing. Rage filled her belly, and she wanted to scream, but it would take too much energy and be too loud, so she mashed her lips together.
If she could just keep it together…
“It’ll get better,” Apollo told her, and she wanted to laugh. Every minute that passed the pain got worse. Her head. Her back. She couldn’t even breathe.
“I want this off,” she said. It was the one thing she could say. And so she did. It had probably been a minute since she last said it, but no one was doing anything about it! “Apollo. Help me.”
He touched her hand, and she opened her eyes. His face was serious, not like earlier when he smiled at her and calmed her. Now he pinned her with a dark eyed stare. “Listen. It hurts now, I know.”
Something about the words, just acknowledging how she felt, calmed her. He didn’t follow it up with anything like, “but you can’t keep complaining.” Which was good, because if he did, she might launch herself out of bed.
“Want to breathe with me?” he asked, and she made a move to nod. Except she couldn’t because of the mother fucking collar.
Somehow, she kept the rage in check. “Okay.”
She closed her eyes as he took her hand and put it on his chest, then she followed his example—in and out.
In.
And out.
23
Matisse
They got to the hospital a little after nine in the morning. Matisse had been awake since seven, chomping at the bit as he waited for the others to wake.
It seemed like it happened all at the same time. He imagined it was something out of a movie. Their eyes popped open. They fell out of bed, hurried to the bathroom and through their routine before tumbling down the stairs.
“Ready!” Ryan called, breathless as he hopped toward them, trying to get his foot in his shoe. “Sorry!”
Seok was as loud as an elephant, clomping down the steps in a way that belied his size. It should have been Apollo who moved that loud. Speaking of the man… “Has anyone heard from Apollo?” he asked.
His friends shook their heads. “Let’s go!” Cai came out of the kitchen, a reusable bag in his hand. “Your mom gave us some food. We can get coffee at the hospital.”
Matisse had already had a cup, but he didn’t tell them that. It churned in his empty stomach, but at least he was awake.
Awake.
Would Nora be awake when they got to the hospital?
He’d have to explain everything to her. Apologize. He’d spend the rest of his life apologizing if she’d let him.
His palms were sweaty, and he wiped his free hand on his jeans as they walked out the door. It was nearly December, but Mississippi hadn’t gotten the memo. It was in the seventies, and the humidity was horrible.
Tomorrow it could be forty; it would be an awesome surprise when they woke up.
They piled into the car. Matisse had to get in carefully, easing his way into his seat so he didn’t tweak anything that shouldn’t be tweaked.
He’d had to have his mom help him take his shirt off so he could shower. That had been fun. “It’s a mother’s job to take care of her boy when he doesn’t feel well,” she’d told him, and he’d inevitably thought about Nora.
But she didn’t need a mother. They’d take care of her.
Cai drove, navigating to the hospital like he’d lived in Bijoux Shores his entire life. “Still nothing from Apollo?” he asked again.
“No,” Seok answered. “Nothing in the fifteen minutes since you last asked.”
God. Seok was a pill right now. Matisse was ready to risk a fight, but somehow he kept his good hand tucked under his legs. Seok deserved a slap to the back of the head, and he wanted to deliver it.
“What’s your problem?” Ryan asked, and Matisse hid a smile. And everyone said he was blunt.
“What isn’t my problem right now, Ryan?” Seok asked. He turned his face to the window, ending any other conversation that might have taken place. Ryan didn’t push him, but they’d arrived at the hospital, and all of their brains went to Nora.
“I wish Apollo had called,” he said. “Or texted. I hate not knowing. I don’t want to walk into something and be surprised.”
“He would have texted if something bad had happened,” Cai assured him. “If there’s no news, that probably means nothing to tell.”
Hopefully that was what it meant.
There was a perfectly placed coffee cart in the lobby and all of them were quick to order, grabbing an extra for Apollo.
“I wonder if Apollo will start making us all shakes. My mom has one of those eight-hundred-dollar blenders. She’s never used it, but I bet it would give Apollo a hard-on.”
An old woman pressed the up button for the elevator and side-eyed him. “Morning, ma’am. Beautiful day.”
She didn’t answer, but the doors opened, and they all got inside. Someone chuckled, and he glanced over. Ryan’s face was red and slightly constipated looking, and even Seok had a half-grin.
“What?” he asked. “Did I miss something?”
The elevator dinged, and the woman got off. As soon as the doors closed, Ryan and Cai barked a laugh. “That poor woman.”
Matisse laughed, a little lost. “What happened?”
“You were talking about hard-ons right next to her!” Ryan said.
Huh. “But I said good morning!” That surely negated anything awkward that had preceded it.
His three friends laughed, and were still laughing when they got off the elevator and walked down the hall to Nora’s room. It all died away when they entered though, and Nora’s golden-brown eyes met theirs.
“You’re awake,” he said stupidly.
Apollo held her hand against his chest but dropped it as they came inside. “She is.” He stood, moving a little in front of her, and Matisse narrowed his eyes.
“Why didn’t you call?” he asked. It had been driving him crazy, all this not knowing, and the entire time she’d been awake. He could have been here hours ago.
“Keep your voice down,” Apollo said.
“Apollo.” Nora’s voice sounded strained.
Apollo whirled around and went to her. “Is your head worse?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t in the way anymore, and Matisse could really see her. And now that he could—she looked… bad. Not like herself. Not in her expressions or even her tone of voice. Everything sounded tight and pained.
Shit. He hadn’t meant to make things worse. “I’m sorry.”
“Just be quiet,” Nora said. “Please.”
Matisse’s stomach dropped, and he sucked in a shocked breath. She’d never spoken to him that way before—never.
It wasn’t that he’d never had someone talk to him like that—he was a master of trying people’s patience, but not Nora’s.
He felt like a little boy who’d had his hand slapped, and he was equal parts embarrassed and hurt.
“Let’s go outsi
de.” Apollo glanced down at Nora. “We’ll be right back.”
She closed her eyes and didn’t respond as he walked away from her. Passing by Matisse, Apollo put his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
He let himself be led out of the room and down the hall to the waiting room. It was empty, for which he was so, so glad. There was a huge lump in his throat, and Matisse couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t cry.
Apollo dove right in. “I’m sorry I didn’t text. She’s been in and out of sleep all night.” No one spoke, and he kept going. “She’s not herself right now. It’s what happens with brain injuries. This is the longest time she’s been awake, and Tisse, I know you’re upset, man, but that was the longest sentence she’s said. And she added, please. She’s been using mostly one or two words.”
Matisse nodded. He understood, but it didn’t make it easier to be on the receiving end of her ire. “She’s been like this all night?”
“No,” Apollo answered. “I wish. She’s uncomfortable. She must have tried to pull that fucking collar off a dozen times. I tell her it has to stay on, and a second later, she’s grabbing it again. And she’s got a massive headache. She’s getting intravenous pain meds, but she can only get so much at one time. It wears off pretty quickly, and as it does, she gets…” He seemed to be struggling to find the word.
“Grumpy?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah.” Apollo sat on one of the chairs and ran his hand down his head. “I don’t think she has any memory of what happened, and the weird thing is, she hasn’t even asked. Everything is about now. She hurts now. It’s too loud now. This isn’t her.” He pinned Matisse with a stare. “So don’t take it personally. This is the pain and whatever was bruised inside her brain.”
“We knew this could happen,” Cai said. “When I had my concussion, the doctor said I might be agitated or unreasonable, and that was just from getting clocked.”
“Right,” Seok agreed. “And Nora’s head bounced off the pavement.”
His friend’s words created an immediate picture, and Matisse had to sit. He couldn’t remember the accident either, but the image felt so real. He had a feeling that it would be forever stuck in his head, no matter whether it had happened or not. “Jesus, Seok.”
“So how do we help?” Cai asked. “Stay quiet. No arguing.” He looked at Seok and then Matisse. What did I do?
“She’s going to ask questions a million times,” Apollo said. “Keep it simple and don’t get impatient.”
“I can do that,” Matisse said, earning a wide-eyed look from Seok. “What? I can. I can be patient.” He didn’t like what Seok’s expression was implying. “Fucking-A, dude, give me a little credit. I know what’s happening. I might need it spelled out for me, but I can adjust.”
Seok’s glare softened a little. “Sorry.”
They were all on edge. That’s all this was.
“Can we go back?” Matisse asked. He wanted to hold her hand the way Apollo had.
“I think we should go back in shifts,” Apollo answered. “Or two at a time.”
“Maybe you should go in with each of us,” Matisse said. He was really afraid he was going to mess everything up and hurt her worse than she already was. “Show us what to say. Tell us what to do.”
Apollo studied each of them, and so did Matisse. His friends nodded, all of them in agreement.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Ryan said. “Of all of us, you’re the most like a doctor, anyway.”
Matisse huffed a breath. “That’s not what I meant.” But he smiled.
“Do you mind, Apollo?” Cai asked.
“No.” But he seemed a little hesitant. “I’m not trying to be an expert. I just know what I said that was wrong, and if we can avoid it…”
“Then we will,” Seok interjected. “Who goes first?”
24
Nora
Apollo left, and Nora squirmed. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t. Her stomach hurt, not from pain, but nervousness. Something.
She’d done something wrong, and she wasn’t sure what. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it niggled at her and made it impossible for her to relax.
Trying to pinpoint the moment when she’d messed up, she thought back, but came up with a big blank spot.
What had just happened? Apollo had been keeping her company, and then?
Nothing.
She groaned and shut her eyes. If she could just get this goddamn collar off! “Chére?”
The voice was soothing, melodic, and she opened her eyes. Matisse stared down at her, a smile twisting his lips. “Hello.”
“Hi,” she answered, automatically.
He glanced up, and she followed his gaze to Apollo. The other man stood at the end of her bed, watching her. “Apollo. Where did you go?”
“I just went to talk to the guys,” he answered.
Someone else came in, and she stared at the stranger. It was a woman with skin like cream and freckles all over her arms and face. “I’m Marie,” the woman said, before she could ask. “I’m your nurse. I’m just going to change out your IV, Nora. Then I’ll leave you alone with your guys.” She winked at her and fiddled around with a bag of fluids. As she adjusted the tubes, it pulled at Nora’s hand. “Sorry.”
Nora didn’t reply, just watched as she fixed some sort of lock on the tube.
“You have some good guys here, girl,” Marie said. “One day you’ll have to tell me how you landed five of them.”
Turning her head, she locked eyes with Apollo and gave a little snort. “I got shot.”
No one else thought she was funny. If anything, she seemed to suck what little good humor there was left in the room.
“She saved a bunch of kids,” Apollo answered, his voice tight. He watched her while he answered. “Saved their lives.”
“Oh,” Marie said softly. “Well then you know how to bounce back, don’t you?”
The collar dug into the back of her head, and she tried to sit up again. “Can we fix this?” she asked. “It hurts.” She was whining but didn’t care. She needed to rest to get well, but she couldn’t sleep because she was so uncomfortable.
“Not just yet,” Marie said. “Soon.”
Nothing happened fast enough for Nora’s taste. She sighed and glanced back at Matisse. For the first time, she noticed how tired and drawn he looked. And his arm was in a sling. Like hers. “Tisse. What happened?”
He seemed to freeze. “We were both in an accident, Nora.”
Oh. “What happened?”
“We were hit by a car.”
“Both of us?” she asked. Matisse wasn’t wearing a collar. “Where’s your collar? You probably charmed it off.” She smiled at him, and his shoulders slumped, like he’d been nervous.
“I wasn’t as badly hurt as you,” he said.
Apollo moved a little closer when the nurse moved away. “Thanks,” Nora called out before sliding her good hand back to her head. “This is driving me fucking crazy.”
“They’re going to give you a soft one soon. I had to wear a collar like that once.” Apollo sounded like he was trying to reassure her.
She shut her eyes. “Tell me about it.” He didn’t answer right away, and she opened one eye, doing her best to glare. “Come on.”
“You can’t get mad,” he warned.
“I’m already mad,” she answered honestly. She was. Her emotional state was low-level rage, ready to blow at any minute.
“I was in a fight, and took a kick to the back of the neck,” he said.
She opened her other eye, trying to make sense of what he was telling her. “How do you get kicked in the neck? A horse?”
“It was a fight,” he said patiently. That was right. He said he’d been in a fight.
“How old were you?” she asked.
“Twenty-two,” he answered.
Hold on. “Aren’t you twenty-two now?”
“Yup.”
She stared at him, and he held it, watching her try to figure ou
t what he meant. It made her head hurt, and she gave up. Part of her wanted to hold onto it—dig deeper—but the louder part was plain tired. “You’ll tell me later.” He would. She’d make him.
She just had to remember not to forget.
25
Cai
Their days took on a sort of routine. Visit Nora in two-person shifts, trade-off nights, buy coffee. Cai was pretty sure he was going to lose his job despite Jerome’s assurances to take as much time as he needed. He had clients in Vermont, appointments and meetings, but he couldn’t make himself care.
If they fired him, so be it.
Jerome had mentioned something about family medical leave, but he and Nora weren’t married, and they weren’t domestic partners, so that was out.
It didn’t freak him out at all when his mind went to marriage. Everything would be easier if they were married. She’d have better insurance. He’d have more say in her medical care…
But he wasn’t going to bring it up now. Not when Nora was struggling with her memory and always afraid she’d forgotten something. It’d been ten days since the accident. But each day had brought improvement.
The collar, the bane of her existence, had been replaced with a soft, though thick, fabric brace.
“I have a dent,” she’d said, touching a spot on the back of her head. “It’s probably going to be there forever.”
The most reassuring thing that had happened was she’d slowly become herself again. Edgy, prickly Nora eventually disappeared, replaced with an edgy, weepy Nora, but finally, she was his Nora again—with a dash of paranoia. She knew her memory was spotty, and she was always afraid she’d forgotten something or offended someone.
“Sorry!” she’d said when she asked Matisse what happened to his arm. She remembered even before he answered, but she’d been quick to apologize.
“It’s fine, chére,” he replied. “Don’t apologize.”
The day they moved her out of ICU was a celebration. Matisse’s parents were footing the bill, so she wouldn’t have a roommate. They could spread out and relax.
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