Page 19 of Sweet Anarchy

Relief washes over his face, his frown lines loosening.

"Fuck, brother… I thought you had gone to the big man in the sky. Mom would have been jealous."

I laugh, trying to sit up. Tyson helps me, propping a pillow behind my back.

Looking around, I find myself in a hospital room, machines hooked up to my body.

"Fuck, it hurts," I complain, resting my head against the pillow.

"I'm not surprised. You were shot. Luckily a hot nurse removed the tube from your throat about an hour ago when they noticed your vitals increasing. Do you want some water?"

I nod, watching as he quickly pops his head out the door, motioning to someone before grabbing a cup and filling it from a jug on the hospital table.

"Rylee… where is she?" I ask, my heart dropping at her absence.

Oh fuck… what if she's hurt?

"She left a few hours ago to rest. Poor girl was a mess, but she's fine," Tyson answers, holding the cup under my chin and lining the straw up to my mouth.

I take a sip, feeling relief as my parched throat is soothed by the liquid. The door opens and I swing my head in hope, disappointed to find it's a nurse.

"How's your pain, Charles?" she asks, checking the screen of the machine to my right.

"Fucking hurts a lot," I grumble.

The nurse nods, her black hair bouncing. "I'll get you some pain medication. You gave us quite a scare."

I'm thankful for the concern, but right now, all I can think about is Rylee. I need to see her.

"Ty, I want Rylee. Can you call her? Is my cell here somewhere?"

Tyson looks over at the nurse, who's pushing something through my IV drip – hopefully some strong ass drugs.

"I don't recall a phone coming in," she says, giving me a sympathetic smile.

I think back, sighing at remembering I left it on the poker table before I headed to the bar at Wheels. Tyson senses my frustration, pulling out his own cell.

"I'll contact Connor. He's friends with her, right?"

I nod, my lips twitching into a smile as I remember the night we all met up at the college bar. He taps away at his cell and I relax into the bed, the pain starting to dull.

I'm relieved to know she's okay. It means all this pain is worth it.

Tyson stands up, heading outside the room as he holds the cell to his ear. I turn my attention to the nurse, watching as she checks a few more things on the machines.

"Would you like an update?" she asks.

"Sure," I answer, unfazed. I suppose they want to make sure people aren't too fucked up before they lay the bad news on them.

The nurse nods, grabbing my chart from the end of the bed. "You suffered gunshot wounds to your chest, abdomen and thigh. Thankfully, it missed your vital organs and bones. The doctors removed the bullets and were able to repair the damaged tissue, however you did suffer a significant amount of blood loss. You had a few blood transfusions and your iron and red blood cells are still quite low, but that's expected. All in all, you were very lucky to have survived."

"You can't keep me down," I joke, groaning as I move my right leg.

The nurse pulls back the blanket, looking at the gauze. "Your dressings look good. I'll change them later so we can check on the wound to make sure there's no signs of infection. I would recommend not moving too much in the meantime."

"I had planned to go running, but I'll take your advice."

She gives me a playful scalding look, pulling the blanket back over my leg. "Let me know if the pain is still bad."

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