by Vicki Green
“Nah. Did us a favor. Hey! Hey. Look at me.”
My eyes are so heavy, and I’m so cold. I begin to shiver as I try to hold my eyes open, looking into his.
“Yo, Ned! Give me your jacket!”
My eyes close as I shiver again. I hear running footsteps and then I open my eyes to the worry ones of Gus. He’s covering me with that guys jacket but it I don’t feel any warmth. “Hang in there, man. Helps coming.” He tries to smile again but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
I’m cold. I’m tired. So tired. I can’t keep my eyes open, they start to close again. Irish’s face fills my mind. Her smile. Her beautiful brown eyes. The way she looked at me when we were lying in my bed talking.
Loud sounds breeze in through the open front door. Running. Talking. Yelling. I can’t seem to open my eyes anymore. Too heavy. I feel people all around, moving me. Pain envelopes me. People talking but their voices are muffled, words coming in and out. Pokes. Prods. I’m so cold.
“Too much blood.”
“Need to get him outta here.”
“Too late.”
“Can’t stop the bleeding.”
“Hurry!”
I’m jostled again. I feel like I’m being lifted, moved around more. Hardness. My back on a surface. More pokes. Cold air sweeping across me. People running. The sound of a chopper blade whizzing in the air, causing more coldness. “Here you go. Another blanket for you. Hang in there for me.” Shuffling. Doors sliding shut. I feel weightless. Out of body. I can’t move or speak. What’s happening? Pain sweeps over me as my chest rises and falls rapidly. My heart feels like it’s beating faster.
“Irish.” It’s only a whisper, not even that. Not sure that anyone heard me or if I really spoke. Darkness begins to cloud my mind. No! I want to see her! I need to! She’s the only thing that will get me through this.
“V-fib! Paddles! STAT!”
Don’t let me go, Irish. Don’t leave me. Please. Please don’t go.
Irish
I shoot up in bed, my hand covering my heart. My heart is beating so fast I can actually feel it with my hand. Weirdest dream ever! I felt pain. What the heck? My breathing is labored, like I’d just been running a marathon. I look around my room and then focus on my alarm clock. The guys will be here in about thirty minutes. The sun is peeking through the blinds covering my window, lighting up the room in a soft glow. I blink a few times trying to remember the dream. Blood. There was so much blood. Caylan’s face invades my mind. “No,” I whisper into the room. Pulling back the covers, I bring my legs around and sit on the side of my bed, grabbing my phone off the nightstand.
Me: Please tell me you’re ok
I sit there and just stare at the screen, hoping he’ll reply back quickly. A strange feeling overtakes me. What if he’s hurt and can’t answer? He’s undercover. Most likely in a dangerous situation. I feel ill. I scroll through my contacts and hit call. “Please answer.” Four rings and then voicemail.
You’ve reached Caylan. Leave a message. Beep.
“Caylan…. This is Irish. Hey, I know this sounds weird, well, you know it is me….” I try to let out a small laugh but it just sounds stupid. “I just had a horrible dream and I’d give anything if you’d return my call as soon as you possibly can. Please. Just…. Just call me.”
I end the call and find Taren’s number, hoping she’s awake this early.
“Irish? What’s wrong?” Her voice is groggy with sleep. Shit! I woke her.
“Hey. Sorry if I woke you. I just….” How do I explain this crazy feeling I have? It’s not like I know anything for sure and it could have just been a dream, thinking about him last night, and our texting for an hour. Maybe I am crazy? All I know is – if we do get together, I mean really have a relationship, this undercover shit has got to go. I don’t think I can live through it.
“What’s wrong, Irish? Are you okay? Is it your knee?” I hear her movement and her voice sounds more awake. Now I feel bad for waking her.
I try to laugh it off but I still have that sick feeling. “Oh, it’s probably nothing. Sorry I woke you. You really need your rest. Is Brock around?”
“It’s okay, sweetie. You can call me anytime. No, he kissed me goodbye about…. Maybe ten minutes ago? He said he was gonna go get Kane and stop and get coffees before they head over to move you.” Makes sense. That just means I need to get up and get dressed. “Irish?” Now she sounds fully awake. “Tell me what’s wrong. I know you. You sounded really strange.” She knows me too well.
“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just a weird dream, ya know?”
More shuffling. “Well, it must have been a bad one for you to call me. Wanna talk about it?” She must be moving around by the sounds I’m hearing.
I stand, grabbing one of my crutches and holding my phone against my shoulder. “Nah. It was just really strange. I’m sure it was something I ate last night.” I chuckle, not feeling it at all. “I better get dressed and get a move on if they’re getting coffee. Kane would love to walk in on me half naked and Tom? Oh, my God!”
She laughs. “Okay, hon. Well, if you want to talk about it, I’m here. Just give me a call or come over when you’re all moved, okay?” I nod, like she can see me.
“Okay. Bye, bestie. Get some rest today while the boys are gone.” She laughs again and I end the call.
I look at my text to Caylan. No reply. God, I hope my dream is wrong.
“You don’t need to hover over me. Go find something else to do, Tom. Or better yet. BROCK!” I yell over my shoulder. “Get the food out that Taren made. I think Tom is hungry.” I don’t bother looking up at him from my position on the floor. He’s making me more than crazy and I’m about to belt him. Why in the hell did Kane think to ask him to come help? Pisses me off! I seriously don’t need this shit today. Ever since I woke up this morning that dream has bothered me. I’ve checked my phone about a gazillion times while the guys moved my stuff today. No answer from Caylan. I’ve texted and called him another gazillion times. Nothing. That bad feeling has grown, and I can’t seem to concentrate on anything. I almost fell several times trying to navigate carrying a box or a lamp while trying to walk with a damn crutch. Kane has had a field day, ribbing me all day. Figures. I’ve been sitting here on the floor, putting books away on my bookshelf, and Tom’s been standing behind me just watching me. Stalker.
“Hey, Irish!” I turn my head to Brock’s voice as he approaches. “We have one more load to get then everything will be out of your old apartment. You stay here but don’t hurt yourself while we’re gone. You’ve been like a hobbling accident waiting to happen today. What gives?”
I place the book in my hand on the shelf and use the footstool beside me to lift myself up. Pressing my hand on top of the bookshelf, I steady myself. I look around and see Tom and Kane are not in the room so they must be in one of the bedrooms. “Uh. Okay, this is gonna sound weird but….” He crosses his arms over his chest and gives me an attentive look. “I had this really strange dream, woke me up this morning. Brock, I think Caylan’s in trouble.”
His brows lower. “Why? Why do you think that, Irish?”
I shake my head. “I dunno. A feeling? I can’t get him to reply to my texts or calls. Trust me, I’ve sent him a million texts and tried to call just as many times. Nothing.” He brings his hand up, rubbing his chin in thought. I grab my crutch and hobble over to him, placing my free hand on his shoulder. “Brock. I’m really worried. I know he’s undercover.”
He stares into my eyes, the look of worry covers his handsome face. “Fuck. Let me call Dean and see if he knows anything or can find out.” My heart beats frantically, but I’m relieved that maybe he’ll find out something. Anything. He places a hand on my arm, squeezing. “Don’t worry, Irish. I’ll see what Dean knows.” He tilts his head and gives me a weird look. “For someone who says she doesn’t like him, you sure act like you do.” I give him a small smile. I can’t worry about that shit right now. I just want to know that’s he’s okay.
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The guys leave to get the last load. I literally had to push Tom out the door. He thought he should stay here instead and help me. I roll my eyes internally. Yeah, right. He wanted to stay and just gawk at me. Not happening. I try to busy myself getting things unpacked and put away but the whole time I still have this nagging feeling. Something just isn’t right. By the time the guys return, I’m a mess. I’m filled with anxiety and worry and can’t hardly move around with my crutches. I have no concentration left on anything but Caylan. I hear doors slamming shut outside and look out the window in the kitchen. Brock starts running towards the building while Kane and Tom head to the back of the truck, picking up the last bit of boxes. My heart rate begins to increase at the look of concern on Brock’s face. I hobble over to the front door just in time for it to fly open. I almost fall trying to back up, his hands grabbing my upper arms to steady me.
“Sorry.” His brows are lowered, his face pale. “Irish. You need to sit down.”
I search his eyes for anything. That bad feeling washes over me.
He pushes me back, gently, until my legs hit a chair. He guides me down until I sit. “You’re scaring me, Brock.” I’m filled with worry, knots form in my stomach and I feel like I could be sick. I’ve not seen him this pale or worried since that horrible night at their shack when everything turned into a nightmare. “Just tell me. Please?”
He squats down in front of me, his hands resting on my legs. I follow his eyes, looking into them. Concern. Worry. “Irish. Stay calm.” That’s making it worse. “There was an accident.” No. No. I knew something was wrong. My heart lodges in my throat. My dream. “He was air lifted and brought to the hospital here.” I start to get up but his hands on my legs push me back down. “Stay calm, Irish.” I swallow, hard. “Not gonna lie to you. You’d wallop me anyway.” He tries to smile, but it’s just not working. “He’s in critical condition, Irish. He was shot twice. In the shoulder and side. He lost a ton of blood but he’s out of surgery.”
“I need….” I look all around him, seeing all the boxes that need to be unpacked. Clutter everywhere. “I need to go.” Tear fills my eyes, but I blink them away. I don’t have time for that now. I need to get to him — be there when he wakes up. I don’t want him to be alone. Does his family know? Suddenly, it occurs to me how much I don’t know about him. I don’t even have a way to contact them. He was gonna take me to meet them this weekend until…. Until I ruined everything. Guilt overwhelms me, eats at me. “His family. They…. They need to know.”
I try to stand again and instead of fighting me, he helps me up. I’m in his strong arms and bury my face into his shoulder. My arms wrap around him holding on. “Don’t worry. He’s a tough guy. I’ll take you over to the hospital.” I nod against his shoulder. He squeezes me, but I don’t feel very comforted. Not until I’m there with Caylan and see for myself.
Brock helps me into his truck, the back all unloaded. Kane and Tom stand in front of us, watching. Both have concern marring their faces. Tom didn’t even try to hit on me or console me. I’m so upset, I probably would have slapped him at this point if he’d tried. Guess he’s a little smarter than I gave him credit for. It’s silent as we drive to the hospital. I’m looking out the window watching everything go on as if nothing important was happening. People walking on the sidewalks, some shopping, some laughing. No one knows what horrible nightmare awaits us. It’s so strange, like an out of body experience, to see everyone being normal. They have no idea what’s happened, what we’ll find when we get there.
Brock helps me out of the truck, handing me my crutches from the back seat. I’m not hobbling as slow as I normally am, anxious to get to him. I’m so scared at what I’ll find. I follow Brock numbly to the front desk. Muffled voices penetrate my ears. He turns and I follow him again until we’re in an elevator. My mind is racing with his face, remembering how tender he is when he holds me in his arms. His vibrant green eyes as he looks into mine. Caring. Loving. The doors open. I have no idea what floor we’re on and I don’t care. I keep following Brock. My eyes trained in front of me. My heart is beating fast as we come closer to a room with a large window next to a door that is open slightly. I swallow hard when I peer inside. I feel Brock’s arm move around my shoulder, his hand pulling me into his side. Caylan’s large frame looks smaller in the single bed. Tubes run from his hand up to an IV hanging slightly behind him, another tube from his nose, around the sides of his face. There’s not one of those flimsy gowns covering him, just bandages around his shoulder and upper arm, a sling holding his arm up around his stomach. His eyes are closed, his face pale. A small sob escapes me and Brock’s arm tightens.
“I’m gonna go find a nurse or doctor and see what’s going on. I’ll be right back.” I nod and feel him kiss the side of my head.
I feel his arm leave me and suddenly, I see a small hand reach over and cup his face. I take a step and push the door open more. There is a woman sitting by his side. I watch as she looks at him, lovingly, in concern.
“As soon as you’re better, we’ll start our life, my love.” Anger sweeps through me, washing away my worry. I thought he’d be alone, no one to care and worry for him. My eyes move down and see her free hand covering her large stomach and it hits me who she is. Margie. “Your baby needs you.” She sniffs as she rubs her hand across the scruff on his face. My heart beats harder for a different reason. Breaking. “Please, come back to us.” I begin hopping back, my heart breaking with each of her words. “I love you. So much.” I watch as she wipes away a tear from her face. I take a step into the room, anger flowing through me like never before. How dare she? By the way he’s been acting, I know he doesn’t feel that way about her. She turns her head and looks at me. “Sorry you had to hear that, Irish,” she says with a sneer.
My heart beats harder as I grip the handles of the crutches tightly. I can feel all the blood leave my hands. “Oh, really? Somehow I don’t think you are. It’s strange how you have no problem saying those things while he’s unconscious.”
Her face turns beet red. “Well, I hadn’t had time to tell him that before he left but he knows.”
I let out a small laugh. “Oh, yes. That’s why he’s been texting me every day, talking about how we’ll be together soon and how much he misses me.” I’d put my hand on my hip but I’d drop my crutch. Dammit. Right now, I wish I could walk over there and smack her right out of that chair.
She stands, putting her hand on her large stomach, affectionately. “Well, I think this proves how much he loves me. Soon we’ll have our baby to keep us together.”
“Ha. Yeah well, you and the countless faceless many he’s been with doesn’t worry me in the least. If you really love him, why don’t you tell him the truth about that baby and get outta his life?” Her eyes widen, her mouth forms an O. “The truth, Margie. Why don’t you try it sometime?” I look down at my sleeping man. I wish I could stay but I won’t be in the same room with her. At least he’s being taken care of by the staff. I look back at her as I turn to leave. “I’ll be back later. I suggest you not be here.” I glare, hoping I’ve made my point as I pull the door towards me, removing her from my sight.
Taking one last look at him, I turn and bump right into Brock’s chest.
“Where are you going?”
I look up into his eyes, mine filled with tears. “Take me home.”
He looks confused. “Don’t you want to stay with him?” I don’t blame him for being confused. But I’m beyond that. I’m broken.
“Just take me home, Brock. Please,” I plead.
“Okay. Make your way to the elevators. I’ll catch up.” He looks at me perplexed but doesn’t argue. I just nod, numb with feelings of concern for him and anger at her. I just want to get out of here as fast as possible.
I hobble faster than ever towards the elevators. My stomach hurts, and I feel like I’m gonna be sick. Once I’m in front of the doors, I reach out and punch the down button several times. “It’ll come even if you only pus
h it once.” I turn my head quickly. Brock is standing there. His face has paled. His mouth turned up in a small grin.
I turn back to face the doors, which are taking forever to open. “I just want to go home. I have a ton to do today before I head over to Pops.” I know he knows I’m lying but I can’t seem to stop my words from spewing from my mouth. I’m hurt. I’m scared for Caylan, and I hate her with all that I am.
When we reach his truck, I shy away from his help and manage to get onto the seat. I do let him take the crutches. I close my door as he opens the back, setting them across the seat. I jump when he slams the door closed and try to wait patiently as he walks around to get in the driver’s seat. I turn and look at him, when he slams his door and forcefully puts the key in the ignition. I cringe when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking space, his brows lowered in anger. What in the hell did I do? He turns back to face the front, pushing on the gas pedal hard as he pulls out of the lot, pushing me back into the seat. “You know. I know you’re a tough girl and all but you could show a little compassion.” Anger hits me hard but then it changes into hurt. Brocks been one of my best friends my whole life. We’ve never fought, never said an unkind word to each other, unless we were joking. I don’t know where this is coming from. He knows how I feel about Caylan, and he also knows that this woman has come between us. That’s not my fault.
“What the hell, Brock?”
Tears fill my eyes. His words were harsh but what I’m feeling doesn’t compare. I’m hurt and so worried about Caylan. My hands start fidgeting in my lap. How did my life get so messed up? Mom. Oh, yeah, and Dad. Can I really blame them for the way I am now? Maybe a little in the trust department but really I’m stronger for it too. I take a deep breath and wipe the tears from my cheeks and hold my head up.