I just sit here dumbfounded while he talks back and forth with the nurse, convincing her to get him practically everything he needs to basically make up a stay-in-bed spa. She leaves and it’s just the two of us again. He turns to me and enthusiastically props himself up at the end of the bed cross legged, and I swear I hear new holes stretch and tear in his already hole-covered jeans.
Quickly, I grab the board and scribble:WTF?!
He grins, and it's equal parts endearing and terrifying because nothing good comes from those mischievous smiles. His mismatched eyes practically glow with excitement. “I’m getting you out of your head, Baby Doll. We’re going to focus on cleaning you up and keeping your mind here in the present with us.” His expression sobers a little. “I haven’t experienced one of your episodes before, but Creed told us about them so we would be aware. Asher and I did our own research on them, and it helps to keep yourself busy and hands-on.”
I sigh heavily but agree. It makes sense to keep myself busy with mundane, everyday tasks. I just worry about an unknown trigger setting me off, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose any more time being lost in my own head anymore, and…I don’t want to hurt anyone again.
Alright.Make me pretty like you.
The words I write are teasing, but Blair tilts his head and pretends to look me over before narrowing his wild eyes at me.
“Impossible,” he teases back but continues before I can slap him for being a jackass. “You’re already there and definitely beat me in the pretty department.”
I really want to reach out and kick him off the bed, but I hold myself back. Barely. My sore, healing wounds being the biggest limiting factor.
Thirty minutes later, Blair is sitting behind me on the bed, brushing out one section of my freshly washed hair while I work on the other. He helped me wash it while I took a warm washcloth and carefully cleaned my face, arms, and legs. I truly appreciate Blair because he took his time to make sure every strand was detangled and all the dried blood was washed out. Most of the pastel colors have faded from my hair as well, so it’s mostly back to its original pale blonde color.
I don’t want my hair hanging in my face, so I opt for two loose pigtail braids, which is yet another talent that Blair has hidden up the sleeves of his crop tops because his braid looks way better than mine.
It’s been a few hours, and Creed hasn’t come back in yet. But when Asher returned, he told me he’d fallen asleep next to Riley when he walked by his room to check in on them earlier.
Good.The thought makes me smile.
There’s nowhere else I’d want him to be right now.
I have a huge support system around me, and while I’m far from okay, I know I will be as long as I have my family.
I don’t think Riley knows just how loved he is, but he understands just how much Creed and I need him in our lives. If I can’t be there with him right now, I’m glad Creed is by his side, taking care of him the way I wish I could. AndGod,I can’t wait to get the fuck out of this room so I can see him for myself.
There’s no proper way to express just how much I need him. The last images of him in my head have done nothing but haunt me, so I need to get to him. To lay my own eyes on him, to know that he’s here and will, indeed, be okay. I don’t feel whole being apart from him and Creed.
The night nurse, Chrissy—a short, sweet woman with a motherly air about her—comes in and helps to clean up the mess we made when washing my hair and checks in on me, making sure I have everything I need. Topped off on meds and warm blankets, she moves on to the next patient after letting me know that physical and occupational therapy would be here first thing in the morning to assess my mobility and to get me moving.
Not two minutes after she leaves, another knock raps on the door. Blair and Asher stand at the same time to open it. They’re practically mowed over by a massive bouquet of wildflowers attached to a tall, slender pair of legs.
The flowers are shoved unceremoniously into Asher’s face, and he barely catches them as a body shuffles past him. A quiet sob bubbles up in my throat when I see Ayla’s pretty face, while Bear trails slowly behind her. Her dark eyes are brimming with tears, the first one falling just before she darts across the room, and pulls me into a hug. I wince at the way she’s squeezing, but I don’t care. It reminds me that I’m here, that I’m alive, and thatthisis my reality. So, I don’t dare let go.
“Oh, my god,” Ayla cries, her tears quickly soaking through my hospital gown. “You’re here,”
“I’m here,” I parrot, even though she can’t read my lips, knowing exactly what she’s saying. I don’t think there’s any greatway to greet somebody who was kidnapped and tortured for two weeks, but her presence alone is enough.
Ayla runs a perfectly manicured hand through her short hair before the questions start tumbling out.“How…how are you? That’s a stupid question, I know. But…D-do you need anything? How can we help? What can we?—”
“Give her a fucking break and give her a chance to take a breath in between your questions, mother hen. Jesus,” Bear sighs, covering his sister’s mouth from behind before squatting down next to me, resting his forearms on the side of the bed. “Hey, sweet girl.”
“Hey, Bear,” I rasp as he reaches out to place a tentative hand on my knee. Knocking his hand aside, I decidefuck it, and bend down to wrap my arms around his shoulders. I wince at the way it tugs at the tape holding my bandages in place. Bear lifts up and meets me halfway, swallowing me up within his huge frame.
He releases me and backs up a few steps, looking pointedly at his feet. He brings a finger to his eye and discreetly presses into the inner corner. I don’t miss the wetness that trails down his knuckle, but I don’t comment on it. I’ve got my own tears that I’m fighting off.
“I’m—” He clears his throat, looking at me once more, “I”m glad you’re okay. Truly.Fuck,” He curses and storms over to the window and just stands there. Asher joins him and places a hand on his shoulder, murmuring something that’s got them heading for the door.
“We’ll be right back. Blair?”
“On it,” he answers with a mock salute from his perch on the couch across the room.
I turn back to Ayla, who is now digging for something in the giant bag she’s always carrying around. “I don’t know what’s allowed here, but B told me that hands-on activities can…helpyou, somehow. So I was thinking,” sShe says timidly as she pulls a small cosmetic bag from her purse.
I hear the familiar clinking of small glass bottles and I can’t help the huge grin that pulls at the corners of my lips.
