“Alright, couldn’t find any pain pills in here. We’re roughing it for a while. Don’t think we should go out again today.”
“Areyouokay?” she asks. “You’re taking care of me, but you’re still a mess.”
“Thanks.” He offers her a forced half smile. “I’m good. Still breathing, still walking. We’ll get through this.”
“Do you think they’ll follow us?”
“Nah, crime of opportunity. Just wanted our shit.”
He’s busy inspecting his road rash when she says something that slices right through his nerves and stabs him in the heart for the second time today.
“I see him sometimes in my nightmares. Not always, but sometimes,” she whispers, her voice small and childlike. “Hear him, too. It’s not the first time. Now it’s worse. More real.”
“Is he here now?”
Her face breaks and creases as she nods in confirmation, her willpower at holding in her tears failing fast as they brim in bloodshot eyes.
She’s hallucinating her abuser through the veil of a concussion and there’s not a damn thing he can do to fix this for her. He doesn’t let himself think further about what it could mean if this doesn’t resolve on its own. She’ll be okay, she has to be. The only acceptable outcome here is that she wakes up tomorrow and everything makes sense again.
“I’m not crazy, Wade.” She half sobs. “Right? Am I? Am I crazy?”
“No, no, no, you’re not. Just got hit real hard on the head during the crash, that’s all. It’s gonna be alright.”
“The crash. I crashed your bike, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me now.”
They’re going around in circles, but one thing he has an abundance of is patience for her. “I’ll never hate you. And you didn’t crash it. That wasn’t your fault, come here.”
He joins her on the sofa, gathering her up in his arms as he leans back against the cushions. She goes easily, curling her legs up and pressing her face into his collarbone while he holds her snug.
“You’re the only one who can make him quiet. No one else. Only you,” she whispers.
“Don’t look.” He squeezes her a fraction tighter as she turns her face into his neck. “Don’t listen to him, you listen to me.”
Needing to stay awake during a concussion is a myth in most cases. So instead of trying to keep her awake, he lets her doze while doing his best to quiet the monster she’s dug up from the grave. He knows all too well what it feels like to be haunted. In his case, he only saw her when he was manifesting ghosts in solitary. His hallucinations comforted him.
Her hallucinations are not so kind.
“Do you remember when I bought my first bike with my army bonus? I showed up one day with it in the back of my truck outside your apartment, asking for lessons.”
“I remember.”
* * *
“Why is there a Harley in the bed of a pickup blocking my parking space?” Kara raises a brow and crosses her arms, fixing him with a stare of annoyance that does nothing to faze him.
‘I just bought it! It’s cool, right? Wanna go for a ride?”
“Can you drive it?”
“Hell no. That’s why I’m here. I just so happen to know a great teacher.”
Her father had bikes. He taught her how to drive one of these beasts before she could ever drive a car, and now, if he’s lucky, she’ll teach Wade, too.
She tilts her head, her gaze traveling the curves of the bike. “Or you could just give it to me. Don’t worry, I’ll let you ride behind me.”
“So, so tempting.”
She won’t say no. He only has to wait for her to poke at him a few times before she gives in, and so he stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet, trying to curb his smile.
