“Sorry about him,” Reaper says. “Please, we would like to see her now.”
“He’s a danger to society,” the doctor grumbles. His white coat swishes as he turns around and heads through the double doors.
Reaper pulls up his pants by the Ruthless King skull belt buckle and mutters, “That’s kind of the point.” A subtle laugh leaves Reaper, and I try to calm my annoyance, but it’s too damn difficult. I’m the only person who seems to be in a rush.
I follow the man in charge of Joanna’s care, my heart beating faster than how quick my legs are moving to get to her room.
“Here you are,” the doctor informs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll give you guys some privacy.” He loosens the tie around his neck, and his collar is soaked with sweat. Wow, he really must have been scared.
We aren’t that bad.
Opening the door, I step inside the poorly lit room and see Joanna laying in the middle of her bed, her brown hair cascading down her shoulders, and her chest rising and falling.
She’s alive.
I’m so relieved to see her breathing. I stroll around to the side of the bed and pull a chair close. I slide my hand into hers and stare at the wrappings on her forearms. A familiar heat takes over my face when I realize I’ve been caught caring about Joanna a little more than I should.
I don’t know much about her, but I know there’s something between us. It’s evident every time we are around each other. It’s an odd energy that I’ve never felt with anyone before. I don’t know how to explain it. I barely understand it myself, but all I know is that I feel lighter, and it feels good to have a bit of weight lifted off my soul.
“Something you want to tell me?” Reaper asks, turning a chair backward and straddling the seat.
“No,” I state, staring at her pale face and high cheekbones. “No, I don’t want this blown out of proportion. I’m here for a friend.”
“Mmhmm, your secret is safe with me. Listen, whatever she needs, it’s hers. Like Patrick and Sunnie, she’s going to have to go to therapy. I’m ordering it. You’re a therapist, aren’t you?”
“I-I can’t get involved with her like that. She needs someone else. I’m sorry, Reaper, but I can’t be that person.”
“You might not have a choice in the matter. She may only trust you.”
I hope that isn’t the case. I don’t think I’d be able to think logically if she stepped into my office. Something about her has me in fits. I will just want to comfort her instead of being there and giving her solid advice like a therapist should.
“I’ll leave you alone. I’m glad she is okay. I’ll have the guys move her to the club—”
“Not the clubhouse. She needs her own space. Being around a lot of people, including the cut-sluts, it won’t be good for her.”
“She can’t be on her own.”
“I know. I know.” I sigh, smoothing a hand over my mouth. “Just move her in with me. Throw her stuff in the guest bedroom.”
“You’ll be her roommate, but not her doctor? Yeah, I see that going over really well.” He slaps my back and squeezes my shoulder. “You’re the one with the doctorate. I’ll trust you and your judgment. Are you staying for the seventy-two-hours?”
“Yeah, I’m staying. I don’t want her to think she’s alone.”
“I’ll have one of the guys bring supplies for you. Keep me updated.” Reaper gives Jo one last look and leaves. I hope I have control of my emotions and the strength that Reaper has. The man is a complete fortress, the ultimate badass, all while being President to a bunch of assholes like us.
Reaper shuts the door behind him, and the tension in the room is coming from me. Now that I’m alone with her, I don’t know what to do or say.
I bring her knuckles to my lips and press a kiss to them. “You scared me, Jo. You are the only one I know who sees right through me. You don’t see the doctor. You see the man who hides behind the doctor.”
You’re someone different than what I’m used to.
That’s what I really want to say, but the barbed wire fence around my heart tightens, reminding me that it isn’t a good idea to let anyone inside.
If I let her in, what if she does this again, and I don’t get to her in time?
My phone rings, and I have to let go of her hand to answer it. I hurry so I don’t wake her up. My mom’s name fills the screen, and I silently curse. Damn it. I forgot about dinner.
“Hey, Mom.” I keep my voice low. I turn away from Jo and get up, putting a few feet between us. “How are you?”
“Are we still on for tonight?” she asks. “I’m at the store, and I know how you get.”
I rub my temples as I figure out what to say.
“What happened, and when can you have dinner?” I can hear the smile through her words. I’m glad she knows me so well. I’d be lost without her.
“Mom…” I turn my head over my shoulder to check on Jo. I thought I heard her sigh. “I’m so sorry. An emergency came up. A friend of mine is in the hospital.”
“Oh, no! Well, that’s no problem. I understand. Let me know if there is anything I can do, okay? I’ll let you go. Now, tell me you love me.”
I smirk at her demand. “You know I love you.”
“I love you too, sweetie. Give a hug to your friend for me. Let’s just do Sunday dinner, like usual.”
“You got it, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up the phone and stuff it in my pocket.
I saunter over to the chair again and sit down. I’m fucking beat from the day, and it’s nowhere near over.
“Mmm,” Jo grunts, her brows pinching together as the anesthetic wears off. Her toes wiggle under the sheet, and her fingers twitch.
I stand up, excited from the movement. This is good. This is great fucking news. “Jo, hey. Come on, wake up. I’m here. Eric is here.” I stroke her cheek with my finger and the crease between her brows fade. A small smile tugs at her lips, but she doesn’t open those green eyes. “Come on, Jo. Let me see you. I need to know you’re okay.” The words of encouragement do nothing to seep into the unconscious state she’s in. I push her hair behind her ear and grin. “That’s okay. I’ll wait. I’m a patient man. Don’t hurry on my account.”
The gauze surrounding her arm rubs against the callouses on my hand. With my index finger, I draw a line down the middle of the bandage, knowing that underneath all the dressings are deep cuts that are bruised and ragged. The stitches probably look angry from pulling the skin tight. She isn’t going to be able to do anything for the next few weeks, not unless she wants to pull her stitches out.
“I just want to know what you were thinking,” I say, keeping my tone soft. “We haven’t gotten to know each other yet, not like we should.” There are more memories to be made besides one night of me spooning her so she’d stop screaming in the middle of the night. I’m not sure how I helped, but the moment I climbed into bed and wrapped my arm around her, pulling her back to my chest, her screams faded to a whimper. Eventually, she fell into a silent rest.
And what unsettles me the most is she brings me to a silent rest too.