Not Quite Enough(55)

“That mean I can leave today?”
Walt smiled. “Means you’re one lucky bastard. And yeah, you’re going to be discharged.”
Trent stood from the chair he’d been sitting in and with as much dignity as one could have wearing a drop cloth, shook both the doctors’ hands. “I already know I’m lucky,” he managed to say with a smile.
Dr. Simons went on to tell him how he wanted Trent to see his personal physician in two weeks for follow-up blood work. Also Dr. Simons wanted him to have his doctor request the files from the hospital so they could jump on any long-term effects of the large exposure to lead and mercury, both of which saturated the water Trent and Monica were forced to drink to survive inside the cave.
Trent would never again look at a pool of water and think it anything but poison. Tasteless and odorless poison.
“I’ll write the order for discharge. It will still take a couple of hours to get you out of here.”
Trent thought of Monica. “S’OK. I’m not in a hurry. Need to get ahold of my brothers.”
Dr. Simons left the room, leaving Walt behind.
“I’ll be headed back to California after Monica’s out of surgery.” Walt took a chair across from Trent.
“How’s she doing this morning?”
“She didn’t have an ideal night, but she’s tough. They’re going forward with surgery. The surgeon thinks there’s something left inside her leg that’s keeping her from progressing.”
“Surgery is going to fix it?”
Walt nodded. “We think so.”
“You’re a good friend,” Trent told him.
“Monica’s good people.”
When Walt took to his feet, Trent followed him. “I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m glad I was there to help. Maybe we can have a beer sometime, watch a game or something.”
Trent smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Take care of yourself.”
Trent called Jason who was staying at a local Morrison Hotel, courtesy of Jack and Jessie. Glen had to fly back home but was making room for him at his place until Trent decided what he wanted to do and where he wanted to do it.
He didn’t push his discharge, instead he waited around until they practically kicked him out so that he could linger past the time when Monica would be returned to her room after surgery. He needed to see her. He’d make an excuse to see her again.
The nurse from the night before recognized him and allowed him into the ICU. “She’s sleeping,” Nurse Hard-Ass told him. “I don’t want you guys waking her up.”
Trent assumed “you guys” referred to Monica’s family, yet when he walked around the now familiar glass door into Monica’s room, seated at her bedside and holding her hand in a familiar way was a man.
He hesitated and cleared his throat softly as to not wake Monica. She slept peacefully, or at least it appeared that way. Her leg sat elevated on some contraption, the bulky dressing on it evidence of the trauma her limb had gone through.
The unknown man lifted his bloodshot eyes to Trent. His face grew cold. “Yes?” he asked as if Trent had no business in the room.
“How is she?”
“Resting.”
Trent couldn’t help but notice how the man held Monica’s hand.
“Who are you?” Trent found himself asking.
“I’m Monica’s boyfriend.”
Everything inside Trent froze.
“Well, nearly her fiancé.”
Trent’s stare moved to the woman on the bed. The warmth inside of him turned ice cold. Now it made sense. No need to think he was anything more than a fling. Wasn’t that how she put it? Of course she’d have someone back home.
Didn’t everyone Trent found himself falling for?
Ignoring the fast rate of his pulse, he swallowed hard and turned off any emotion, any one-day-at-a-time thought.
He wasn’t going to fall into this again.
He’d been down this road and it drove him to a f*cking island and cost him his parents. This was not happening again.
“Who are you?” Monica’s fiancé asked.
Trent shook his head. “No one.”
Without any more words, he left the ICU and the hospital, and put her out of his mind.


The next day blurred together. It didn’t help that her fever had spiked in the night, delaying her surgery by several hours. Monica met the orthopedic surgeon, signed consents, and met the surgical team right as they were putting her under.
There’s something about being at the total mercy of others to humble the strongest of characters. In all her nursing years—admittedly, she didn’t have many of them—Monica had never been the patient. Not on any level that depended on someone else to breathe for her.
Her eyes opened briefly in recovery, the pain in her leg so immense she simply uttered a moan. The need of something to keep her from screaming was her only thought. And then the world dimmed again.
Her next moment of lucidity was in the early morning hours of the next day. A lone figure sat beside her bed. His frame filled the chair, his eyes sought hers with concern.
She blinked several times, confused.
“John?”




Chapter Twenty



“W-what are you doing here?” Speaking clogged her dry throat. Staring into the face of her ex was simply too much the minute she woke from surgery. Where was Jessie?
“I couldn’t stay away. Good God, Monica, I thought I’d lost you.”
John held her hand in his, kissed her fingers. Pain sat behind his eyes.