I barely hear her when she says, “I’m sorry.”
“Gabby,” I whisper back. “What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I didn’t believe you. I should have listened. I never thought Trevor would hurt me. I’m so sorry, now I’ve put everyone through this.”
“Listen, no one knew what he was capable of, don’t say that. Your family and I are just relieved you’re okay. I’ll be right here—I’m not leaving you.”
Her tears spill as she goes on. “It’s just the things he said to me, I never thought he’d be capable of anything that happened today. He was a different person.”
“I know. Let’s talk about it later after you get some rest. They’re gonna keep you tonight for observation, I promise not to leave you.”
“Thank you.”
“Try and go back to sleep,” I say, hoping sleep will come so she can stop thinking about what happened.
When I lean in to kiss her, I can taste her tears and feel that in my gut. We finally roll out and I follow, carrying her stuff and IV.
They move her from one bed to the other and I tell how much pain she’s in when she moves. I make a mental note that she needs to keep on top of her pain meds. She settles, getting as comfortable as she can with heavy eyes.
I kiss her forehead. “Gabby, please, go back to sleep.”
Even though her eyes are drowsy, she looks back up at me. “I can’t believe I have to get beat up and threatened by Trevor Harper for you to say please.”
I give her a small smirk. “Sugar.”
This time I lean in to softly kiss her lips. I pull up a chair so I can sit close when her eyes start to drift. Putting my elbows to my knees, I let my head hang with my hands on the back of my neck, thinking about how today could have been so different.
Then I hear her soft voice call for me. “Jude?”
“Right here, baby.”
“Thank you for being here.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Get some sleep.”
“Okay.”
She rolls as best she can with a wince, settles on her side and goes to sleep.
I open my eyes and have to squint immediately. Although the lights are low, they hurt my head. I’m so freaking tired.
The nurses woke me up about one thousand, three hundred, and forty-two times last night to check my eyes, ask my name, how many fingers they were holding up, and if I knew what year was. Then they’d poke around on my ribs and stomach asking me if I was experiencing any new pain.
The last time they woke me up to ask these insane questions, I told them whining, “I know my name, the year and I can see just fine. And the old pain is plenty, I have nothing new to offer you, thank you very much. Please, leave me alone.”
Jude, who has not left my side since he came to me in the ER, turned to the nurse. “I think that means she’s good.”
Nope, Jude hasn’t left me. He’s been sweet, gentle, and not as bossy as normal. He did lose his sweet and gentle disposition the first time the nurse came in to lift my gown just below my breasts, seeing the enormous, ugly greenish-blackish-yellowish bruise that’s now decorating the left side of my midsection. The room went tense and when I looked up, his face was tight, radiating Jude Fury. He didn’t turn green or burst out of his clothes like the Hulk, I guess that meant he got it together, because the next time I woke up he was back to sweet and gentle.
I look over through my squint and see Jude stretched out, reclined in the vinyl, utilitarian, navy blue chair. His arms are crossed with his head fallen to the side where he’s asleep. I’ve never seen him asleep before. Although I would never tell Big Bad Jude this, the only way to describe him is beautiful. Even from across the room, I see his black, thick eyelashes fanned below his closed eyes and his face is shadowed with stubble. His hair is messier than normal and his long jean clad legs are stretched. He’s lost his shoes and his sock covered feet are crossed at the ankles. It seriously sucks that it hurts to move right now because I’d love to be snuggled up next to him.
All of a sudden, the door is thrown open, the light is flipped on, and a blonde woman in a white coat marches in. My eyes immediately close from the invasion and I hear Jude moving on the other side of me.
“Ms. Carpino,” she calls loudly. “My name is Dr. White. Sorry it’s so early, but I’m going to check you during my rounds. If you get good reports from the nurses over the next couple hours, you’ll be released. How does that sound?” I finally pry my eyes open and see hers are on Jude, with her hand extended over my bed. “You must be her husband. Sorry, they didn’t have her down as married.”
Jude shakes her hand as I mutter, “Um…” at the same time Jude shocks me by stating with authority, as if we’ve been together for years, “Not husband, but she’s mine.”
“Gotcha.” Obviously in a hurry, she looks back down at me. “Do you have someone to stay with you a day or so when you get home? I’d like for someone to be with you, watching for signs of the concussion for at least another twenty-four hours.”
Again, at a loss for words I try, “Well…” at the same time Jude says with decisiveness, “That’ll be me.”
All business, Dr. White continues speaking directly to Jude without a glance back to me. “Wonderful. Keep checking her pupils for dilation today. If she shows any signs of nausea or confusion, you’ll need to call us immediately and she’ll need to be seen. I’m ordering a script for her pain meds, just follow the directions making sure she stays on top of those over the next day or two. Then she can take them as needed. Pain meds can cause constipation, she’ll need stool softeners but you can find those over the counter.”
I take in an audible breath as the topic of my possible constipation is being discussed with Jude Ortiz. Closing my eyes, I pray my concussion is causing me to hear things that aren’t really happening.
But alas, I realize I’m completely coherent when Jude rasps, “Sounds good, we’ll stay on top of it.”
The very blunt Dr. White then checks my eyes and pokes around on my ugly bruise before turning back to Jude. “Good to meet you both. I’m sure you’ll be out of here in a couple hours. Take good care of her.”
Jude nods with promise that yes—without a doubt—he’ll take fine care of me. With that, she turns to leave as abruptly as she entered and I realize I never put two words together as Big Bossy Jude handled the whole scene, including my possible constipation that will require stool softeners.
Needing nothing more than to disappear at this juncture, I close my eyes, praying I’ll vanish into thin air.
Realizing God isn’t having mercy at the moment, I hear, “Gabby? You okay?”
Not opening my eyes, I simply respond, “No.”
“Sugar, what’s wrong?”
I go on with my eyes closed. “Everything.”
“Are you in pain?”
“Well, yeah.”
“What else is wrong?”
I open my eyes to look at him. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by everything. My life, my aches and pains, Trevor Harper, all things Jude, being embarrassed by my possible constipation, my broken door, flooded basement—for heaven’s sake, the list just doesn’t end.