Page 12 of Chasing Temptation
“It’s Joe,” I bark, hating being called by my surname unless it’s coming from Quinn. It’s the only thing I still have that connects me to my parents, and I fucking hate it.
“Sure. Please, try not to get worked up. We’d like to get you out of this place as soon as possible, so just sit back, relax, and let us take care of you.”
I’ve only been conscious briefly, and already I fucking hate this. No one’s looked after me since I was a child. Okay, so maybe that’s not totally true. I did get the flu a couple of years ago and Lauren played the part of nurse perfectly. She humoured me with my ridiculous demands but drew the line when I asked for a couple of strippers to come and keep me company while she was at work. I thought she was being a spoilsport; she said she was concerned about my blood pressure while being so ill, which seems to be a thing if the nurse’s recent words are anything to go by. My granddad and my dad had dodgy tickers, so I guess I should be a little careful seeing as it’s hereditary.
I lie there, getting more and more pissed off as they poke, prod, and ask me a million and one questions. Apparently I’m expected to stay in this shithole for a week at least as I recover from both the transfusions and surgery.
There’s no fucking way that’s happening.
I don’t know where I am. I’ve no idea if Quinn is okay after everything she’s been through. Fuck, I don’t even really knowwhatshe’s been through. I’ve got the barest of details about what happened with her dad and ex-husband. I need to get her out of here and somewhere safe so she can recuperate and figure out a way to rebuild her life.
After what feels like a fucking week, the rock hard pillows have been fluffed, the rough bed sheets are neatly tucked around me, and I’m finally left alone with someone else’s blood slowly dripping into my body,
I. Fucking. Hate. It.
I lie there alone with only the sounds of the machines around me for company as I try to drag up as many memories from that night as possible. I must try so hard that I wear myself out, because soon everything fades once again and I float off into dreamland.
When I wake again, the lights are dimmed, although I can still see every inch of the room. The first thing I notice is that the beeping is no more. I look to see if I’m no longer attached to the irritating machine, but before I find that my eyes land on Quinn.
She’s curled up in the reclining chair with a hospital pillow tucked under her head and her cheek resting on her hand. Her dark hair is all over the place, nothing like it usually is, and her skin is almost grey. I hate that I’m stuck in this bed and unable to comfort her after whatever it was she endured at that monster’s hand. She’s dressed in the same pair of leggings and hoodie as earlier. The only bit of skin she’s showing is her face, and I hate that she’s hiding once again.
It occurs to me that that was what the twinsets were. They covered as much skin as possible and made her blend into the crowd, or at least with every other woman I would imagine were in their circle of friends. Her choices of the short leather skirts and the flared dresses make so much sense.Imake so much sense. She was rebelling from the life she had before, the life she hated. Was she just with me because I was the rebel to help her break free? What happens now? My heart begins to race as I consider that the strength of my feelings might not be reciprocated. I’m not sure how I’ll cope if she tells me it was just a bit of fun and that now her ex-douchebag and father have been locked up where they belong, she’s going back to her old life, her old job.
I’m on the cusp of what I can only assume is my first ever panic attack when the door opens and a friendly looking nurse comes walking in. She’s slightly on the podgy side, her uniform clinging to her hips and arse a little too tightly, but she has the kindest face I think I’ve ever seen.
“Good evening, sweetie. I’m Shelly,” she whispers, noticing Quinn sleeping in the chair beside me. “How are you feeling?”
“Frustrated. When can I get out of this fucking bed?”
She chuckles at my irritation. “You’ll soon be up on your feet like it never happened.”
“Not soon enough,” I grunt.
“You remind me of my son. He’s just as hot headed.” She potters around, checking my vitals.
“Yeah? He must be pretty awesome.”
“He is. He also wouldn’t think twice about running in and saving the girl he loves.” Her eyes flick over to Quinn, and I can’t help but follow.
Her lips are now parted. She looks so peaceful, and I pray that whatever happened to her escapes her in her slumber. I know it hasn’t always been the case.
“She’s refused to leave your side, you know? We all thought we were going to have to get her scrubbed up to go into theatre with you.” She laughs. “Somehow we managed to convince her to let us see to her while they were working on you. You’ve got a good one there, boy.”
My heart pounds against my ribs. Is what she’s saying true? If it is, it makes my earlier concern seem a little pointless. Is Quinn just sticking around because she feels guilty that she dragged me into her mess, or is she really here because she wants to be? I guess only time will tell.
I fall silent, my mind wandering back to the events that put us both in here. I know I can’t remember everything, but his face is one thing I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget.
“Shelly?” I ask as she wraps a blood pressure band around my arm.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know what happened to the man who put me in here?”
“You mean the man you also put in here?” she jokes lightly. “I’m sorry, Joe. I’m not allowed to discuss other patients’ conditions.”
“He’s alive then. What a shame.” She gives me a weak smile, but if she knows even just a little of the detail around what happened, I can’t help but think she probably agrees with me. “There was another man too,” I say, thinking about Eddie being there.
“He’s fine. Sent home with nothing more than a butterfly stitch on his eyebrow.” I nod. At least someone got out of this unscathed.
