Page 15 of Body

The pressure above my eye feels like someone hit me with a baseball bat. With shaking fingers, I feel my face. A large bandage covers the tender spot above my eye. My cheek bone is twice its normal size.

The memory of what happened slams me into the here and now.Oh God.Bile rises in my throat leaving a sour taste. I was robbed. At gunpoint. I had been waiting for the taxi. Opening my eyes, the haze and cloudiness slowly fades. When I get my eyes open and blink rapidly, I’m able to look around. The white room is dimly lit from behind my bed. As I make my visual trek around the room, my gaze settles onto the very pissed off face of one Chase Davis. Anger pumps off his large form in waves, and I start to shake. I’ve seen anger like that in the eyes of another man. I don’t care to ever experience it again. He stands and pulls the blanket over me more tightly, tucking the sides around me. I have to hold my breath, trying desperately not to flinch. Panic rises like a high tide at sundown. “How did I get here?” I croak, voice thickened by drugs. He grabs the pink plastic water cup sitting on the side table and brings the straw to my lips. I sip. Pure heaven. He sets down the cup and takes a seat next to the bed, arms crossed defensively.

“You were mugged. The taxi driver found you and called 911.” Chase’s eyes narrow, and he holds his chin tight, teeth clenched. The man isreallyupset.

The evening’s events come back to me. Tears well and I grip the blanket tightly. “You could have been killed, Gillian.” His voice is horrified, perhaps even emotional. “You were accosted, roughed up, and left in a very tough neighborhood. I am so angry with you.”

Tears slide down my cheeks, and he wipes them away with both of his thumbs. His touch is so light against my skin I can barely feel it.

“Why are you here?”

He winces at my question.

“The nurses searched your clothing. My business card was in the pocket of your blazer with your cell phone. My call was the last you received.” He gets up and paces the small space like a caged animal. “You have no idea what it was like being told that you had been attacked,” He takes a harrowed breath and shoves his fingers though his hair roughly. “Then, I come to the hospital and see you like…like this! You could have died!” His gaze holds mine with a questioning look. I have no answer.

“I’m sorry you had to leave Tatiana for me.” I grumble and look away. I wish he’d just leave.

He grips my chin and lightly tugs it back so he can look me in the eyes. “Tatiana means nothing to me. You on the other hand…” He sighs heavily and slumps back into the chair next to me. He’s too far away to reach.

“Tell me…” I urge, desperate to find out what he was going to say.

The nurse walks in, destroying the moment. “Welcome to the world of the living, Mrs. Davis.” I’m certain the look on my face is one of complete confusion. Chase leans forward and clasps my hand. It’s warm and comforting. I latch on to his lifeline as it if will disappear at any moment.

“When can I take my wife home?” Maybe that blow to the head was worse than I thought?

“Once the doctor looks her over, checks the stitches, and gives you the okay. Then you can take her home.” She smiles at Chase, but he’s staring at me. “You gave this man quite a scare, young lady.” The nurse gestures to Chase. He shrugs and looks away. “You should have seen the way he burst into the ER, roaring, demanding access to you immediately. Like he was a real life Superman.” She clucks her tongue and the image makes me snicker a little. He is a real life Superman. Chase squeezes my hand and the nurse leaves.

“Your wife?” I ask.

“They asked if I was next of kin. I told them we were married.”

“I thought you never lied. That dishonesty was weakness?” I stare deeply into his eyes.

He looks away. “It is. I had a moment.” He won’t look me in the eye. The doctor comes in and explains that I have a concussion, a bruised cheekbone, five crescent shaped cuts in my neck, and a few stitches above my right eye where the gunman hit me with the butt of the weapon.

Chase grips my hand so tightly I almost cry out as the doctor revisits each wound. I clasp Chase’s hand in both of mine and pet the top one. His thumb traces an infinity symbol over my wrist while the doctor explains that a concussion is a traumatic brain injury that alters the way your brain functions. The effects are usually temporary, but can include problems with headache, concentration, memory, judgment, balance and coordination. He tells us that I will need to be awakened every two hours, asked to remember three items, and then to repeat them at the next waking. He also informs us that the police want to take a statement.

“Not tonight,” Chase interrupts. “I’m taking her home. She’s had a traumatic evening.” He pulls me against his side and I snuggle in.

The nurse brings me some scrubs and hospital slippers and I slip into the little bathroom, changing out of my hospital gown. When I return, she hands Chase the bag with my soiled bloody clothes in it. Might as well toss the entire lot in the trash. I’ll never wear that outfit again.

“Gillian, I have my people on this. That fucker won’t get away with hurting you.” He embraces me, his strong arms enveloping me. Warm and safe. In his arms, I lean my head against his chest and listen to his heartbeat. It should calm and soothe, but it does the exact opposite. The tidal wave of emotions, remembering the night’s activities, rips through me. Tears form and spill unchecked onto his shirt. Deep gut wrenching sobs roar from my scratchy throat as the realization of what happened truly invades my being. Chase’s arms hold me tight, gifting me his protection and solace as I weep.

“Baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Chase coos as he pets my hair. “I’m taking you back to the hotel.” I nod into his chest, not capable of speech.

We leave the hospital and he ushers me into his limo. I don’t see the scenery on the way back. The pain medication they filled me with starts to take effect, and I lean heavily into Chase’s solid form. I must have dozed off because we’re at the hotel and Chase is lifting me from the limo. I lull against his chest as he carries me through the hotel. I can only imagine what we look like. Hopefully, people don’t notice much at this time of night. Really though, I’m too far gone to care.

“Mr. Davis, Sir, do you need a wheelchair?” A man asks in the background.

“No. I’m not letting her go.”

His comment makes me feel warm and snuggly. I hear the ding of the elevator and soon we’re rising. Moments later, I’m on a big, soft bed. Chase pulls off my scrub pants and tucks my legs under the silky soft, cool linen sheets. He goes to the dresser and pulls out a white V-neck t-shirt. I watch in a daze, unable to do much other than stare. He drags the scrub top over my head, careful of my swollen face.

I wait in my black lacey bra for him to put the shirt on me. “Jesus Christ, Gillian. What did that fucker do to you?” His tone is strained. His fingertips are feather light on my neck. Moving my hair to the side, he turns me toward the lamp light. He’s seeing the marks left by my attackers nails embossed into the tender skin of my neck. Chase surprises me by bringing his face close, then trailing soft kisses along the entire surface. The gesture is incredibly sweet. He’s such a dichotomy. One minute he’s challenging and demanding, the next, gentle and tender.

“Never again will you be hurt, Gillian. I’ll make certain of it,” he promises between the soothing pecks of his lips against my flesh. I shiver from the feel of his mouth on me, more than from the trauma I experienced. A traitorous tear escapes and drips onto his face.

He grabs the soft, white t-shirt and lightly pulls it over my body. It smells of fabric softener and laundry soap. I lean back and rest my head against the pillow. “Rest, Baby, just rest. I’ll wake you every two hours as the doctor ordered.” He kisses the part of my forehead not ensconced in a bandage.

---