Redeemed: Book Two of the Love Seekers Series

by Maria Vickers

  This time I did peek over my shoulder, and Mel looked deflated. She knew he was right and she wasn’t going to argue further.

  “Bryan, take Emma home. She doesn’t need to be up here either. And before you argue, Emma, I’m thinking of your health. Come for visits, but don’t stay too long. We don’t want you to get sick. We know with your MG, you are a more susceptible to airborne stuff, and a hospital is full of them,” Fred continued.

  The rate he went through everyone there, I wanted to see what he would say to me. I may go home tonight, but that would only to be to pack a bag. Then I would get my own room at the hotel. I dared him to tell me I couldn’t. To tell me to stay away from the hospital except for during visiting hours.

  “Bryan, just make sure you’re taking care of yourself and your wife. And Chad?” His expression changed from the stern parental figure to something softer, almost understanding. “Chad, I can’t tell you what to do. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  He took the wind out of my sails. I prepared myself to debate my side and make my case, but he didn’t let me. Before I could say anything, he gave me permission to be there, and sort of welcomed me with open arms. Technically, he couldn’t tell Mel or Emma what to do either, however, I think he understood my need to be there. “Yes, you will,” I agreed.

  After the doctor came back with the information, everyone took a picture of the small piece of paper he had written everything down on in surprising neat handwriting, and we left. I lingered the longest. Part of it was because I didn’t want to be confronted by Bryan yet. I wasn’t ready for that. And I wanted to talk to Fred and Candy.

  Once the others had gone, I said, “I’ll be here first thing in the morning, and I plan on getting a hotel room.” I didn’t want them to be surprised if they saw me there. “Do you need me to grab anything for you?”

  Candy shook her head. Her make-up was long gone with only the barest hint of eyeliner still remaining. She probably cried it off before I arrived earlier. She looked like she had aged several years since this afternoon, and yet, only seven hours had passed since I had received that dreaded phone call. It seemed longer. We had all aged. “Bryan is going to bring clothes for us tomorrow. He and Emma have a spare key for both of our places.” Pulling me into a hug, she whispered, “She’s a strong woman, and she’ll make it through this no matter what happens. I know she hasn’t always been the most pleasant, but she isn’t as hateful as she appears. Sometimes she doesn’t know how to stop once she starts. She needs someone to help open her eyes. Be strong for her and support her.”

  They knew. This confirmed it for me.

  “I will,” I answered, shaking Fred’s hand. And then I left.

  That night, I didn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes to try and get a little shut eye, thoughts of Rayne kept me up. I wanted to help her, but I wasn’t sure how. She needed to realize that life could be so much better without all of the hate and mistrust. But most importantly, I wanted her to trust me.

  Regardless if she returned my love, or we ended up together, I wanted her to be happy and to trust people again. To trust me.

  She needed to let go of the past and embrace the future. We both did. We were more than our pasts and our reputations.

  Maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed to be redeemed.

  Chapter 33

  Rayne

  U gh. I felt like shit. My head was foggy and painful. My mouth tasted like I had eaten paste. And my body hurt like it had been in a car wreck. Oh wait, it had.

  What the fuck had I been thinking? Never mind. I hadn’t been thinking. I had been upset and let my emotions take over. My job, my family, my friends…and even Chad, they were gone. Things changed. I understood that. But I never expected to be abandoned. I was 25 and alone.

  I should’ve known better than to trust Chad, but I had, and as soon as I stepped out of the picture, he returned to his playboy ways. Actually, he probably never stopped. We had no agreement, no relationship. He was merely helping me with a work situation, and even that had failed.

  Gone. Poof in a puff of smoke.

  Thinking made my head ache worse, and so did the sound of the monitors beeping. Couldn’t they turn that shit off?

  Wait.

  I was in the hospital. I had a car accident. I remembered all of that. What else though? I was missing something. Did I forget something?

  I tried to open my eyes and clasped them shut again. It was too bright. The light hurt. And then squeezing my eyes closed caused its own pain. Fuck, I had messed up.

  Taking in a shallow breath, I released it slowly…mainly so that I wouldn’t cause more discomfort. I was forgetting something. Brushing it off, I started at my head and took inventory. Head, killed me. Neck, still held my head onto my shoulders, but both my neck and shoulders felt like I had been tackled by a 300 pound linebacker. My back, I should get the number to that linebacker and sue his ass. Okay, I was the dumbass linebacker. Well, the tree I hit was. Stomach, the left side burned, both sides screamed when I breathed too deeply. Hips and legs…hips and legs….nothing.

  I took another breath and tried to see if I felt anything. Nothing. I tried to move them, everything else hurt except what I wanted to hurt.

  I would not panic. I would not panic. Who the fuck was I kidding? I was on the verge of panicking and I could hear my monitors starting to speed up again. The sound of the increased heartrate, the same one that beat in my chest, made the panic worse.

  My first inclination was to scream, cry, and demand answers. Did I still have legs? Had they cut them off? Oh shit! Had I lost my legs? Was that why I couldn’t feel them?

  Forcing my eyes open, I squinted trying to keep the brightness down to a minimum and couldn’t tell. I was propped up at an angle, but I couldn’t see. I tried to lift my head a little more and couldn’t. The panic almost grew until I realized I was wearing one of those ugly collars.

  “Rayne? I’m Lee Ching, your nurse. It’s good to see you awake. Your family left about thirty minutes ago when visiting hours ended for the morning.” I heard a woman’s voice speak to me. My eyes searched for the person with the voice and it wasn’t until she was almost to my bed that I found a woman wearing pink scrubs, stepping close to my bed. Her whole figure seemed fuzzy due to my dry eyes, but she had tanned skin and a bush for a pony tail. Based on the tone of her voice, I wondered if she was trying to calm me down with her words and her singsong voice. It didn’t work.

  “Yes?” My throat burned and I barely got out the word. Even speaking hurt, but the panic did not abate. “Do I have my legs?”

  She stopped in her tracks next to my bed, stunned. Her facial expression turned sympathetic and she patted my hand gently, a soft smile on her face. “Yes, dear, you still have your legs.”

  I did? If that was true, why couldn’t I feel them? Why couldn’t I move them? What was wrong with my legs? I panicked and heard the sound of my heartrate increase on the annoying monitor, setting off the alarm.

  “Honey, I need you to calm down,” she instructed me.

  And I wanted to tell her to shove it. Calm down? I couldn’t feel my fucking legs and she wanted me to calm down? I should just be happy that I still had them? Fuck that! I wanted to be able to feel them. I wanted to be able to move them and use them like I used to be able to do.

  “Rayne,” she called my name.

  My eyes moved to where she stood and I felt tears slide down my face and into my ears, where they pooled. “Legs.” That word cost me, it pained me to say, but she had to know.

  “I know, but you are going to feel worse if you get yourself worked up.” She tried to speak calmly, to help me, but it did nothing. The tears fell in steady streams now, but at least she reached above me and turned off the incessant beeping that added to my panic. Returning to my side, she told me, “I’m going to call the doctor. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Okay?”

  I hummed in agreement, not wanting to try speaking again, however, while it didn’t hurt as much a
s speaking, it still caused pain. I tried not to think about my legs or the fact I couldn’t feel them.

  I tried and failed.

  Attempting to keep my mind occupied, I allowed my eyes to wander around the room. It was about as small as my office. Walls surrounded me on two sides, and I was sure a wall sat behind me as well. The front had glass on either side of the entrance, creating a large door that a hospital bed could fit through. A curtain hung next to the makeshift door, and the light that was too glaringly bright, came from outside in the hall. My nurse stood outside my room talking on the phone on the left side of the door. Since she reached over my head, I assumed my monitor was somewhere above me. To my right, I could see a counter and sink. To my left, a board, but I couldn’t tell what was written on it. It looked like scribbles to me.

  While my eyes wandered about the room, I calmed myself. It’s going to be all right, Rayne. They are going to fix you. You still have your legs, so you’re not broken.

  “Good news, your doctor is on his way up.”

  I hummed again and noticed scribbling on the glass to the left of the makeshift door. Was that the date? September 12th? That couldn’t be right. It had to be code or something. If that were the actual date, it means my accident happened a little over a week ago. Nine days. This time when I started to panic, I blamed it on my confusion.

  My eyes found my nurse. “Date?” I suffered, and this time I didn’t care. I had to know.

  Her eyes turned sympathetic again, and that made me want to scream and yell at her to stop it. I wanted to slap that expression off of her face. I wanted to do so much, but I couldn’t.

  “It’s September 12th.”

  “No.” I had been in the hospital and had lost a week already. It didn’t seem possible.

  A perky man walked into my room and drew my attention. “It’s good to see you awake. I’m Dr. Hamilton. How are you feeling, Ms. Sampson?”

  Now my ire redirected itself toward him. My already squinted eyes, practically closed with my glare. I opened my mouth slightly and said, “Legs.”

  The grin on his face fell slightly, and he nodded as he grabbed a light from the wall, something I had not seen upon my initial survey of the room. He looked into my eyes, and then used the stethoscope around his neck to listen to my heart. Thankfully, he didn’t ask me to breathe deeply. That would have been impossible. After his brief examination, he explained, “When you came into the hospital, you were pretty banged up. You had a concussion, six cracked ribs, a broken nose, dislocated shoulder, and internal bleeding. You’re lucky the injuries weren’t worse. However, there was a lot of swelling throughout your body, which included your back and neck. You have a transvers fraction of your L4. It doesn’t necessarily do damage to your spinal column, but it can cause pain…”

  My expression must have been one of confusion, because he stopped talking and then scratched his head. He smiled and said, “In simplest terms, a transverse fracture is damage done to the side of the vertebrae. You’ve seen what a vertebrae look like, right? They have the bones sticking out to the side?”

  I hummed the affirmative, unable to nod and I didn’t want to speak unless I absolutely had to.

  “You broke the side bone off,” he stated.

  I appreciated the layman terms, but what did that mean? I tried to swallow, wincing with the effort, and then groaned, “Legs?”

  “Right. The transverse fracture doesn’t necessarily affect the spinal column. It can cause a lot of pain and discomfort. However, you hit the tree at a high velocity. From what we can see on your MRI, you have a couple of herniated discs and the transverse fracture. Plus with everything swollen from the injury…Basically, you have an acute spinal injury. When you came into the ER you said that you couldn’t feel your legs. It happened again in recovery.”

  He pulled out what looked to be a long silver stick. On one end it was pointed and on the other, it had what looked to be a small wheel. I saw the blanket from the end of the bed move, and I assumed he uncovered my feet. “Tell me if you feel this.”

  I waited, but nothing happened. Was he supposed to be doing something? I tried not to feel anxious, not to panic, but it was hard. I didn’t feel anything.

  “What about this?”

  I waited again, but didn’t feel anything, except this time I felt pressure, but no real touch. “Pressure.”

  “Do you feel it?”

  “Pressure.” It hurt to speak and I wanted to slap the doc for making me repeat anything.

  “Good. That’s a good start. Try to move your left toe or even your foot.”

  My body tensed up with the effort to do as I was told. I felt nothing except for the pain radiating through my body. My nose burned, tears stung my eyes and fell. I was broken.

  “Okay.”

  No, it was not okay. I couldn’t feel anything, and couldn’t tell if they moved or not.

  “Now try the right foot,” he instructed.

  Once again, I tensed and tried to do what I was told, but I still couldn’t feel anything. Was it moving? Did I get a twitch or anything? Why wasn’t he telling me?

  “Excellent.” He did something at the end of the bed and then straightened. I guessed he had moved the blanket back into place. “You were able to manage a slight twitch on your right side, but your left side…your left side didn’t move.”

  “Walk?” I asked, my voice still rough with disuse and emotion.

  “It is still too early to tell. It’s only been a little over a week since your accident and you are still healing. It’s also too soon to be able to tell you how much use of your legs you will be going forward. There is a chance that you could regain full use with time, however, it is also possible that this is a permanent condition.”

  The word permanent echoed loudly in my ears. Permanent equaled forever. I couldn’t wrap my head around it all. I was broken. My body had betrayed me, and I was only 25, and in another month, I would be 26. But it was more than that, my family left me, Chad threw me away—again, not that we had anything—and work dumped me.

  I was truly broken and alone.

  Chapter 34

  Chad

  R ayne had been in the hospital for three weeks. After two, she had been moved to a stepdown unit out of ICU. From there, when the doctors felt that she was ready, she would be moved to the rehabilitation center here at the hospital. All of that sounded great. Peachy keen. I was jumping for joy.

  Or maybe not. Since Rayne had woken up two weeks ago, she had shut down. She barely talked to anyone that visited her, and if we did get a response, it was more likely a grunt or moan than a spoken word. The swelling on her face that had made her look like an alien had subsided, as had the majority of the bruises, and yet, she refused to speak to any of us.

  Candy and Fred weren’t sure how to reach her or what to say to her any longer. It wasn’t that they were giving up, but when you hit a brick wall over and over again, at some point, you had to take a step back and give the person space.

  Personally, I thought that was the wrong tactic to take.

  That wasn’t my Rayne in that hospital bed. It was a zombie. For three weeks, I had been coming up to the hospital on a daily basis to visit her. I would sit with her, talk to her, read to her, and touch her. I had to touch her to make sure she was real and alive, because right now she acted more like a shell than a real person. And each night when I got into my car to drive home, I would elbow my seat, taking my aggression out on it, and the tears would fall. Not one or two, but gut wrenching sobs that most men would never admit to having. Seeing her like that, killed me on a daily basis. I didn’t know how to reach her, but I couldn’t give up trying to get through to her.

  After Rayne moved out of the ICU and into a different room, I checked out of the hotel now that I did not have set visiting hours and she appeared to be out of the woods. Maybe she was physically better, but mentally, I had the feeling she was falling down a rabbit hole and if I didn’t grab her soon, she would be gone forever.
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  I knew how to do it. Finding out she couldn’t feel her legs, sent her on a downward spiral, but the doctor did say she had some progress on her right side. But she had already given up. She gave up the moment she realized she couldn’t move them. She didn’t have to tell me what she was feeling, because I knew her. She hated it. It was unfair. If her legs didn’t work, she didn’t work.

  And she was so far off the mark on that. Even if she didn’t have a pair of working legs, she was still beautiful and had a sharp mind.

  She had been pushed to her limit, and then pushed some more. I wanted her to hit bottom, but I never expected this. This was too much. How did I reach her? How did I apologize?

  Each night after I left the hospital, I would drive to the gym, beat up a punching bag, grab my shit, and then leave again. The first time I came here for the punching bag, people tried to talk to me, but when they saw I was crying, they turned and swiftly waked away. Now they all left me alone while I hit the bag. Every day, I wanted to hit something, to get out my frustrations with Rayne, her legs, and with the cosmos. Why did something like this have to happen to her?

  Other trainers were taking care of my clients while Rayne was in the hospital. No one asked questions, except about how she was doing. I lied and said she was doing better. She wasn’t. And at this point, I felt helpless and uncertain about how to help her.

  Three weeks and two days after she first got into her car accident, I parked my car and walked into the hospital for the millionth time. My body moved of its own accord. I wasn’t paying attention, until I bumped into someone on my way to the right set of elevators. “Sorry,” I apologized automatically. Everything was automatic these days.