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His eyes hold a hint of mischievousness that has mine narrowing. “This might be all in a day’s work for you, but I make it a habit to avoid near-death situations.”
The doc grins as he lifts my sweater and gently pulls my grip off Trick’s balled-up T-shirt. I wince, focusing on the ceiling overhead as I breathe through the throbbing pain in my side.
“Ah, it’s not too bad,” the doc says, sounding far too happy about it.
“Easy for you to say,” I mutter.
“I’m going to numb the area and then put in some stitches to close the wound. You’ll have a nasty scar, but you got lucky.”
I don’t feel lucky, although he is right. A few inches over and this might have had a very different ending.
A sharp pricking sensation close to my wound site has a strangled cry of pain escaping my mouth. I see stars for a moment, dizzying waves occluding my vision momentarily. Instinctively, I lash out, trying to protect myself from more suffering, and I accidentally catch the doc, who stumbles back, hitting the cabinets behind him.
Shit, I didn’t mean to hurt him. I mumble an apology as Trick comes to my side, his fingers interlacing around mine.
The doc straightens his shirt. “Sorry. There’s no easy way to numb the area without hurting, but that’s the worst part done.”
“I don’t believe you,” I fire back. Nausea threatens to make this entire situation worse, so I choke it down.
“Come on, babe. You can do this. I know it hurts, but you’re fucking strong.”
Trick climbs onto the bed behind me, sitting with his legs on either side of the mattress, and pulls me against his chest. His thick, inked arms wrap around me as he notches my head under his chin.
It’s not the ideal position, considering I’m sitting rather than lying flat, but the doctor doesn’t seem to mind, so I sag into Trick’s hold.
I focus on the rise and fall of Trick’s chest behind me, and I listen to his soothing tone as he speaks into my ear, assuring me every step of the way that I can do this. I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m some weak bitch, all I care about is the man behind me, giving me everything I need.
I don’t know how much time passes, but the doc eventually straightens and pulls his gloves off, tossing them on the tray at the side of the bed.
“All done.”
“How’s it look?” Trick asks the question I probably should have asked, but I’m getting hazy and a little light-headed.
“Good. It’ll heal no problem. I’ll need to see her in a couple days to check the stitches. If it shows any sign of infection, call me, but I’ll give her antibiotics in case.”
“I’m so tired,” I mumble, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth.
“I gave you a shot of morphine,” the doc says.
“Where’d you steal that from?” I close my eyes.
The doctor laughs, but he doesn’t answer. I have stolen morphine in my blood stream…
And it feels good.
My eyes get heavier, everything around me less sharp. “Sleep, babe,” Trick whispers into my ear, and I let my body sink into the pull of unconsciousness, knowing I’m safe as long as Trick is with me.
When I wake, the quiet greets me. Slowly, I open my eyes, taking in the off-white walls and old furniture. The room, which had been full of people before I slept, is now empty other than the large, tattooed figure stuffed into an armchair at the side of the bed.
Trick’s eyes are closed, and lying against his chest is Sophia, who is also out for the count.
My heart squeezes as I take them in. They are the two most important people in my life, and the thought of anything happening to either of them fills me with dread.
I am terrified of them getting hurt, and today proved to me just how dangerous things are. We had to run for our lives.
What happened in the cemetery feels like a fever dream. If it wasn’t for the ache in my side, I’d think it was. I glance down at the patch of gauze wrapped around my hip and taped into place and I can feel the tightness of my skin beneath it.
Yeah, definitely real.
