Silent No More(56)
“Oh fucking Christ, no.” He closes his eyes briefly, but when they reopen, there is so much pain reflecting back at me that it hurts my heart. I know he technically did this, but it wasn’t on purpose.
“I’m−su−sure it’s not−as bad as it looks,” I force out. I didn’t get that sentence out too well. The pain is getting a little worse the more I talk. I just want to lie back down. Perhaps going into work isn’t a good idea.
“Oh, God, what did I fucking do? No. No no no. Why aren’t you breathing normally? What the fuck did I do?” He’s running his hands through his hair and he can’t stop staring at my back. He’s blaming himself, and I haven’t really explained.
“Nick stop. Th−this isn’t−your fault.” I try to tell him. He isn’t buying it. It was just a freak accident that happened. No one is to blame; although it might help me feel a little better if I had someone to cuss right now. This shit really hurts.
“The hell it isn’t. Look at yourself. You have a bruise the size of my head, and there’s dried blood from scrape marks. You can’t even fucking breathe. I’m taking you the hospital.” He gets up, walks to his dresser drawer and opens the one with my clothes in it.
“I don’t need to−ahhh−go to the hospital.” I probably do, but I hate it when he gets all demanding like this.
“Yes, you do, and you’re going. You could have a cracked or broken rib. Oh God, baby, I’m so fucking sorry.” He walks back over to me with my clothes. He helps put everything on me, even my socks and tennis shoes.
“Please stop saying you’re sorry. If it makes you feel better, the sex was hot.” I’m trying to lighten the mood, or his mood rather by telling him the truth. It was so fucking hot…up until the moment the pain started.
“No, it doesn’t. Fuck. Wrap your arms around me. I’m going to carry you to the car,” he says as he wraps one arm around my waist, and with the other he lifts my legs off the ground.
He carries me out the door, but doesn’t bother locking it up after we exit. He deposits me in the passenger’s seat and goes around the car to get in the driver’s seat.
Before he cranks the car, he pulls his cell phone out of his suit jacket and presses a button to call someone. The person answers rather quickly on the other end.
“I won’t be in today. I have two meetings this morning. Handle them.” I can’t hear the other end of the conversation.
“That’s none of your God damn business, Teresa. Just handle the fucking meetings.” He hangs up not waiting for a response. I assume that was Teresa Matthews, his VP.
“Nick, I can drive myself−to the doctor. You don’t have to miss work because of me.” I take a deep needed breath that hurts like fucking hell. Shit. “I’ll be fine,” I reassure him as he starts the ignition.
“Yes, I do,” he says as he takes my left hand, bringing it to his lips. Closing his eyes, he kisses the back of my hand softly. He places my hand back onto my lap and puts the car in reverse.
The drive to the hospital is longer than I thought. Morning traffic is a bitch. It takes forty-five minutes to get there. To my horror, he brings me to Huntington Memorial. Great. At least I know Luke won’t be here this early, but I could still run into someone I know, like my ex best friend, who’s a nurse. I still can’t bring myself to talk to her. I know in my head I should. If anything, just to have closure. Allison and I will never be friends again, but I at least need to have it out with her so that it can finally be over. But right now isn’t the time.
Nick exits the car and comes around on my side as I’m opening the door and pulling myself out. He doesn’t ask, just simply lifts me into his arms and carries me inside. I let him, even though I can walk. My legs aren’t broken or bruised. I realize he needs this from me, so I keep my mouth shut.
He sits me on a cold chair and goes to the registration desk to sign me in. I’m glad he picked out jeans, but I wish I had thought to bring a sweater. Hospitals are always cold. I look around and there is only one other person in the waiting room. I view that as a good sign. I remember Luke used to bitch a lot when the waiting room was full and he didn’t get a break between patients.
Apparently, he got enough breaks to get involved with my best friend. In hindsight, I guess she really spent more time with him than I did. Still, it stings when I think of what she did.
Nick walks back and takes a seat beside me. He laces his left fingers with my right ones. He looks pained and angry at the same time. His body is stiff and he’s taking deep slow breaths like he’s trying to calm himself down. I imagine he is pretty pissed at himself.