Page 32 of Unmasking You

For a moment, I can’t speak. I’m only able to bring oxygen into my lungs. The years of hate, of wanting him—and them—to suffer like I did, and the anger all come rushing back, burning inside my chest.

“I’m sorry…” he says, trying to reach out to me, but his body goes against his will, staying obstinately still.

“How are you feeling?” I ask and then lean over to press the button to call the nurse. I’m glad he’s awake, but I can’t have a discussion right now. I know myself, and I’d be agreeing with everything he says because he’s hurt and it’s my fault.

“Like I’ve been hit by a car.” His face is serious, almost as if he truly doesn’t remember that’s what happened.

I turn to the door, hoping for the nurse to come back and check on him. I’m seriously afraid he hit his head too hard, and he doesn’t remember what really happened.

“I’m sorr—“

I’m relieved when there’s a quick rap on the door before it opens and a man in a white coat comes in. He’s an older gentleman with grey hair and bright, kind eyes.

“Mr Campbell, how are we feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I’m sure you have. How is your head?” The doctor continues to ask questions while he checks Shane’s eyes and his vitals.

All the while, I sit on the chair, trying to focus my attention on what’s being said, but my attention goes back to Shane every time he hisses in pain.

“We are very glad you’re back with us. We were all worried. Especially your partner here.”

I blush under Shane’s scrutiny and look away, ashamed to admit what I did.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s okay, but it was a serious accident. We’ve reviewed the tests we did yesterday, as well as the scans, and the recovery will be a long one.”

I let out a shuddered breath at what the doctor is insinuating. From what he’s saying, it’s clear that Shane could have died yesterday.

“We’re keeping you in for a couple of days so we can monitor you and make sure there are no complications. Concussions are nothing to joke about, and you’ll need rest and to avoid strenuous activities, as well as anything that could exacerbate your head injury or cause another one.”

“Okay, doc. I’ll be good. I don’t want to make my partner worry.”

This side of him reminds me of the man I met at the charity event, the man I allowed to kiss me when I usually hate being touched.

“Good. We’ve put a cast on your wrist and leg, and we immobilised your shoulder. We hope the bones heal correctly and you won’t need surgery, but you may need physiotherapy to get back to a full range of movement.”

The more the doctor talks, the worse I feel. I wanted him to suffer, but now that he is, it’s not giving me the satisfaction I thought it would.

“Your wrist and leg will take between six and eight weeks. Your shoulder will take a bit longer, between eight and twelve weeks. Avoid placing weight on it or doing any lifting with it, especially during the early stages of the healing process.”

“What about the concussion? My head feels like it’s splitting in two.”

“That could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. No screen, bright lights, or loud noises for the next week.”

“When can I go home?” Shane’s voice is now serious, as if he’s understanding what jumping in to save Queen has done to him.

“We’ll keep you in for a couple more days, but it’ll depend on how well you’re doing. We need to make sure you’re stable and your pain is manageable.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I say, watching Shane. He closes his eyes, and his face goes pale.

I start to reach out to him to take his hand, but the doctor continues.

“Once we discharge you, you’ll need someone to help you out. But I’m sure your partner will be able to help and I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you back home. You gave him quite the scare, so please be a good boy for a while,” he says to Shane and smiles at me. I want the floor to open up and swallow me so I can leave this mortifying situation.

What the heck was I thinking when I told them I was Shane’s partner?

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