“Petal, take my hand. Know I’m with you.”
I have a choice. I can ignore what can’t be so I don’t have to see what is, or, I can hold on to the possibility he might be real. I watch my own fingers reach out for the stained hand in my tunnel vision. As the wrist rotates, I see the ring. His ring. Tristan’s ring. My fingers clamp down over it like I am searching for water in a desert. It’s my oasis. He’s my oasis.
“Tristan?”
“I’m right here, I’m all right.”
That’s when I let my eyes wander to the form lying face up on the floor beside him with police officers closing in to examine it.
Evan’s eyes are open but they are lifeless.
“Is… is he?” I ask under my breath then turn back to Tristan. “Are you…?” I begin to cry, my voice cracking. “You’re bleeding.”
He shakes his head, “No, I’m not. Petal, this isn’t my blood.”
“So much. There’s so much.” I frantically take first one of his hands, then the other. I continue to touch as many places on his body that I could possibly get to in order to feel for myself he’s not injured.
“He’s gone, Nora. He won’t be able to hurt you again. Petal… did he…? He was nearly naked. Tell me he didn’t…”
“Ma’am, I need you to come with us to let the EMTs take a look at you and we have some questions,” an officer says, cutting me off before I can even say anything to Tristan.
Everything starts happening so fast.
“Nora?” I hear a faint voice call from the other side of the room as an officer helps Lucas sit up.
He’s alive. He’s okay. We’re okay.
A flurry of questions accosts me, along with flashing lights from cameras as they assess the scene. All I can think about is that I need Tristan to stay with me. I need his hand in mine. I can hear Tristan talking to the police, but it sounds like I’m underwater. I can’t understand or process what’s being said.
He wants me to come with them. I don’t even feel my body besides the part Tristan is touching. Lucas. Is that his voice? “Luke? Lucas?”
“Tell me you’re okay. Fucking Christ. Tell me,” he groans before slumping back to the wall.
“Miss, can you at least sit on the bed? Your friend can help you, but we really should get a quick look at you before transport.”
“Yes,” I say, sinking to sit on the bed. I’m suddenly aware that I’m still wearing the dress I put on for Tristan. “I’m cold.”
“I’ll get you a blanket,” Tristan says.
“Sir, don’t touch anything in this room,” an officer scolds him. “This is an active crime scene and you need to sit down.”
“This woman has been held at gunpoint, shackled by both wrists to a bed, and possibly even worse, and you won’t allow her to have a blanket? Fuck off.” Tristan rips the duvet off the far side of the bed and rests the down around my shoulders. I don’t think any amount of fabric is going to stop the shake I have. “Hey, Chase. You good there?”
“I’m all right. Don’t worry about me. Just make sure she’s okay,” Lucas says.
All I can do is stare down at Evan’s body. I’m waiting for him to pop up for a final scare like in a horror movie, or maybe I’ll open my eyes and I will still be handcuffed to the bed.
But that doesn’t happen.
Instead, we are escorted from the hotel room and met with stares and cell phone cameras shoved in our faces, asking what happened and if someone is dead in there. Animals.
“Where are we going?” I ask when I’m helped to the back of an ambulance and up onto a stretcher.
“We are all going to the hospital, Petal,” Tristan says, sitting on the bench beside me with his hand still clasped in mine. “They need to make sure you’re all right. The authorities are following us there. I insisted that any questions they have for you can wait until after you’ve been thoroughly examined medically.”
“Tell me again what happened. I need to hear it. Tell me again.”
My body starts shaking like I’m in a block of ice again as I am laid back on the gurney inside. Tristan tries to lie beside me, but the EMT asks him to stay back. I hear him growl a bit, but he complies. The one thing that doesn’t change is his hand. He hasn’t let go since I heard my name. Petal.
Evan used it time and again over the hour he had me. He made it sound so dirty and ugly. I didn’t know if I’d ever want to hear it again, if I’d ever hear it again, from Tristan. He’s said it now to me a few times and I don’t feel anything but love with it.
“All you need to do right now is be as still as possible and let them do whatever it takes to make sure you’re physically fine. I need to know you’re physically fine.”
“Tristan… he didn’t assault me like that. He didn’t.”
His grip on my hand doesn’t loosen at all. He seems to accept my answer for a moment. I can see the relief wash over his face, but if there is anything about this man that I know for certain, it’s that he’ll want the doctors to make sure. He’ll want that proof.
And honestly, everything is so blurry now in hindsight that maybe I need the proof for myself too.
Chapter 29
Tristan
Why they chose to separate Nora and me when we actually reached the hospital, I’ll never know. She begged and pleaded but the nurses and doctors were insistent that she and I needed to be in different rooms in order to be treated appropriately. At that moment, it became more important that she have proper care, so I promised her I’d be back to her as soon as I got myself examined.
I have always been indifferent to hospitals. They are a foreign concept to me, as I never really had the need to be in one… until Raissa got sick. Then, I felt like I was in a hospital more than I was in my own home.
Even now, sitting on this hospital bed while a nurse patches up the cuts to my cheek and another nurse secures the brace on my right arm, I can only think about how much the smell of the cleaner is making me sick to my stomach with memories.
I had several people from the hospital and even one from the police department try and get me to change my clothes. That will have to wait. Everything else will wait until I lay eyes on my Petal. I’m thinking all manner of things she’s going through alone with the police liaison and the medical staff. I’m certain they’re stripping her down, making her more vulnerable than she already is to ascertain if her outward injuries are the only ones.
I’m told by medical staff that I have two broken fingers and a hairline fracture in my wrist, which I will endure proudly because I know they came from giving that bastard exactly what he deserved. I’d crush both of my hands doing that if I had to.
“Mr. Sloane?” a police officer says as he pulls back the curtain to the small triage room I’ve been assigned. “We are going to need—”
I shake my head. “I’ve already said that I’ll make a statement and answer your questions after I’ve seen Nora and made sure she’s all right. I am not going anywhere. I’m not leaving before you can question me. You can place a goddamn officer at my hip to watch my every motion, but bottom line… I’m not doing anything until I’m cleared to go see her.”