A Wild Ride (Jessica Brodie Diaries #3)(48)

“He is in a light coma,” she said quietly.

I gasped, my eyes filling with tears.

She patted me, trying to reassure me. “He has a lot of injuries. He has already been to surgery for the rib and lung. We’re hopeful his body is just shutting down for a while to help heal. Love and encouragement are very important right now.”

I nodded mutely, stopping the flow of tears. Starting now, I needed to be strong.

She moved away quietly, letting me lean over him.

His head had a bandage around it, as did his chest. He had a splint on his arm and ankle. His beautiful face was marred with cuts and bruises, but he was still alive. He would wake up. I just had to keep the faith.

I awoke to sounds and light. I blinked my eyes, trying to straighten up, and then stopped. It was like my whole body was in a cast made entirely of pain. My ribs were screaming, my shoulder was weak and felt like knives stabbing the joint, and the rest of my body felt like it was being ground between the fingers of a giant. Not to mention that everything was unbearably stiff.

With effort I did straighten up, tried to stretch it out, and stopped immediately when the agony threatened to consume me. Denise was opening the windows, letting light in. She sat down in a chair set away from the other side of the bed. She noticed I was awake.

“I didn’t know they allowed you to leave your room." Her tone was frosty.

I leaned back against the chair, everything in my body moaning in pain as I did so. “They didn’t. I had to sneak and run.”

She nodded, a scowl creasing her eyes, then took up some yarn and started knitting. It looked like she was in this for the long hall, which didn’t surprise me in the least since it was her son. It seemed, though, that in her opinion “family only” did not mean fake finance. Thankfully she was too proper to rat me out. She probably thought I would pitch a fit if she told me to leave.

She was right.

I looked at William, depressed that there was no change. I got up slowly to use the bathroom. When I was through, I had a glance at myself in the mirror. I looked like a battered woman. My face was cut and scraped, like William's. My legs, too, and arms. I had intense bruising all over my torso, cut off by the white of wrapped ribs. I took a deep breath and was rewarded with something similar to getting punched in the side by a giant man wearing gold knuckles. I needed to breathe shallowly to stand the pain at all.

Back in the room I saw a stocky nurse checking William. She went about it in a quick, economical way that bespoke experience and efficiency. When she finished she saw me and frowned.

“And who are you?” she asked through firm black eyes. She had perfect olive skin devoid of makeup. Also a very stern expression.

“I am his finance,” I replied without reservation. I knew Denise would scoff if she was any other woman.

“And where did you come from?” She looked at my gown.

“Floor three, I think. They gave me a shot and hauled me that way, so when I woke up I came here.”

“Oh, you are the one Nurse Beals is filing a complaint about. It’s funny, the other nurse on duty said she didn’t see what happened. The ICU nurses said they didn’t hear the story, either. I guess it is your word against hers.” She gave me a pointed look. “What happened?”

“Oh. Well, when I woke up I asked directions. Magda wanted me to go to my room and tried to stick me with a shot of some kind. I slapped it away and ran. Well, tried to run. Then I came here.”

“Hmmm. Yes, she is prone of over acting. Well, let me have a look at you. The doctor was supposed to look at you today but you disappeared.”

I looked at Denise, which was watching the exchange.

“I don’t have anything on under this.” I tried to use a sheepish voice. Truth was, I didn't want Denise all up in my business.

The nurse turned and closed the door, then turned back to me with an almost patient, but unwavering expression.

I looked at Denise again.

“She’s a woman. She’s seen it before. Show me.” The nurse wasn’t mean about it, which made it really hard to hate her, but I wasn’t liking her all that well, either.

With a look at William, lying peacefully, looking like he got into a fight with Edward Scissorhands, I sighed and took off my gown. Denise hissed. When I looked at her, though, her face was straight. Her eyes were taking in the bruising and cuts all over my torso. Skidding across hard dirt did have its affects.

The nurse tck’ed and began checking my bandages. When she took off the one covering the horn gouge, she said, “Oh my, child.”

Denise hissed again, this time with her hand on her chest.

I looked down. It was a nasty looking black, blue and red gash in the middle of the left side of my rib cage. Around it was intense bruising.

So that was why it hurt so much.

“You need to have the doctor look at this,” the nurse said in a softer tone.

“Not unless he comes up here. I am not leaving William.”

The nurse stared at me with her expressionless black eyes. “No wonder Madga was mad at you.” She smiled to herself. “Well. I’ll see what we can do, huh? I’ll get you some better clothes to wear.” With that she turned and left the room.

I put my robe back on, slowly, and sat down wearily. My body felt like crap, my insides hurt worse from seeing William like this, and I was so fatigued I wanted to lay down on the floor and go to sleep. But I would not cry. I would be strong until he got better.