Page 32 of Crossed By the Stars
“He can stay out here,” I told them.
They grudgingly moved apart and let me through. One step into the room, and my knees went weak. Her face and arms were covered in cuts smudged with blood. She had a pretty serious-looking bandage wrapped around her right bicep. The same damn wires and lines were attached to her as had been there two years ago in New London, and the beeping of the machines was like a video on replay, as if we were being forced to relive our worst moments until we got them right.
There was a doctor at her side, talking to her in a quiet tone, but when Jada’s eyes landed on me, they filled with tears. Tears she held back with closed lids just like last time. I was at her side, pulling her hand into mine before I even realized I’d moved.
“Mon bijou.” My voice was thick with emotions. Pain and loss and determination. I’d seen her like this before and ran. I’d fucking left her side and gone across the Atlantic to beg my father’s permission like a child. And then I’d stayed away with my tail between my legs because of things that had happened before either of us was born. I’d lived my life as half a man. I couldn’t do it again. I wouldn’t.
Jada’s eyes popped open at the strangled nickname that burst from my lips. Tears leaked out, trailing down her face over a cut marring her sharp, beautiful cheekbone. I caught the tear with a finger, rubbing it away, wishing I could rub all of this away for her.
“I’m Doctor Abara, and you are?” the doctor asked, a frown coating her face.
“Dax Armaud,” I told her, trying to give her a suave smile but knowing I failed, knowing it looked somewhere between a grimace and a sob. “How is she?”
Jada made a small noise in her throat at the audacity of my asking her doctor for an update, but it wasn’t going to be all I dared to do in the next few days.She’d have to get used to it. No more Jada taking on the world by herself. I couldn’t do it. Not again. I couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing her again…of having to bury her…of having to live a life where she didn’t light me up from the inside out just by thinking of her.
The doctor looked from Jada’s eyes to our hands clasped together and then back to my face as if assessing how much I should be told. When Jada didn’t make any further objections, she launched into a laundry list of Jada’s injuries.
“Overall, I’d say she was lucky. The cuts and abrasions are all superficial, although the one we stitched on her arm might leave a scar. The pain in her chest might be from a broken rib. I’ve ordered an X-ray. She’s got a concussion from slamming back into the table, and the tinnitus she’s experiencing will likely go away. We’re calling in an otolaryngologist for a second opinion.”
“What do we do from here?” I asked.
“Honestly? She mostly needs rest. Her body will heal on its own. We’ll start hemorheological infusion therapy—basically, injections and meds—to reduce the likelihood of any permanent hearing loss, but it will be a few weeks before she gets her full hearing and balance back.”
She looked at Jada. “An orderly will be by to take you down to X-ray shortly. I’ll be back once I see the results.”
Once the doctor left, I let go of Jada’s hand long enough to pull the visitor chair closer to the bed, and then I tangled our fingers together again. There were scrapes along the knuckles. I flipped her hand over, noting how the palm was free of blood and cuts. I raised it to my lips and placed a gentle kiss there. Her heart monitor pounded out a new beat. Faster. Unsteady. It echoed mine.
I placed our joined hands on the bed, my thumb rubbing circles, trying to soothe her, trying to reassure us both that she was going to be okay.
“You should?” I started, only to have her interrupt me.
“I can’t deal with the, ‘I told you so,’ Armaud.”
I looked at her, surprised. “What? No. That isn’t what I was going to say.”
She scoffed, “No?”
I did want to tell her that keeping to her routine had been unwise, but I wouldn’t. “I was simply going to say you should get some rest. I’m sure you’ll have to answer questions from the police soon enough, but for now, try to sleep.”
“I’m not talking to any of them.” Her eyes darted to the doorway where we could see the uniformed officers standing there.
“They’ll conduct an investigation with or without you.” My voice dropped an octave in worry and frustration.
“I can’t hear you very well,” she said.
I repeated my words louder. She shrugged.
“They can draw their own conclusions. I really have nothing to add.”
I was going to argue, but Rana entered the room, looking completely frazzled. Her steps faltered at the door before she continued on unsteady feet.
“Bobby?” Jada asked, and my stomach flipped. She didn’t know he was gone, and yet, it didn’t surprise me that no one had told her. The client’s health and safety always came first.
Rana’s jaw ticked, and her eyes filled. She closed them for a second and then opened them back up. She shook her head ever so slightly, but it was enough for Jada to understand. It was enough for her to react by squeezing my hand in a death grip.
“I’ve…I’ve notified his family,” Rana said.
Jada choked out, “Thank you.”
