When I finally woke, it was to a kind of agony that made me wish I hadn’t. I must have made some sound because suddenly, a hand slipped into mine.
“L-lennon? Can you hear me?”
“Yeah. I can hear you.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” Vivian leaned in close enough for me to see her pale face. It was clean, devoid of the pretty eye shadow and lip gloss she’d worn at dinner. I squinted, noting her messy pile of hair and blue scrubs.
“How long…”
“About thirteen…” She glanced at something above me, probably a clock. “Almost fourteen hours. It’s Monday morning.”
“You have a plane. Work.”
She touched my cheek with her shaking fingers. She pulled back quickly and fisted her hands. “As if I could leave you like this.” She swallowed. “I was so worried about you.” Her voice cracked, but she took a breath and calmed herself. Now, in a set of scrubs, in the face of trauma, I understood that Vivi wasn’t just a good nurse; she was a great one. She’d compartmentalized the terror she must have felt and was there for me the way I needed—serene and solicitous.
“The injuries…how bad?” My mind seemed to be sorting out whatever medication I’d been given, and my thoughts were still fuzzy.
Vivian’s face crumpled, and I reached for her. I winced, remembering the cuts to my left arm. I hadn’t thought they were too bad. Maybe I was wrong.
“M-most are superficial.” She winced. “That makes it sound like it’s not a big deal, but you’re pretty battered, Lennon. There’s bruising from where they hit?—”
“And kicked. One of the guys got in a good kick.” I scowled, but that pulled at the goose egg on my temple. The swelling had to be bad for me to feel it, which meant I had to have had a concussion.
“Right. Hit and kicked.” Vivi stuttered a breath. “The cut to your neck is the worst. It required a lot of stitches. The one to your scalp bled a lot—as head wounds do—but it’s not deep. For both that one and the neck wound, the plastic surgeon did an internal and external set of stitches to minimize scarring. But…” She pressed her lips together and fought off her trembling jaw. After a long inhale and exhale, she continued, “But you will have some scar tissue.” Her face crumpled. “I’m so sorry. You were walking me back. This is all my fault?—”
“Shh, Vivi. No. No, it’s not your fault. You didn’t decide to take that shortcut. I did. You didn’t threaten or hurt me. It’s their fault. And they’ll pay.”
Vivi smashed her lips together. “Well, they may not.”
I blinked. “Why?”
“Because the police haven’t found them. Not a single sighting.”
“What? No, that can’t be right. There has to be CCTV or…or…traffic cameras…or…”
“I didn’t see any of the faces. They wore masks.”
I frowned but had to stop when my scalp tugged painfully. “They did?”
“It was so fast. But yes. They had on those skiing masks over the bottom part of their face and beanies. So all I could see were eyes. If they ditched the masks?—”
“Gaiters.” At her look, I elaborated. “Those masks are called gaiters. My friend’s Canadian, another one is Russian. They like them when they’re skiing or snowshoeing. They said they’re better at retaining heat along their necks.”
That reminded me of the slicing to my skin. I raised my right hand—that arm, my dominant one—wasn’t injured, and I was so thankful for its use. Another thought hit me—hockey. The season started in a few weeks. I had to play. I’d signed a three-year contract, my largest ever. I couldn’t walk away from that now because I needed the money to set up my nonprofit that would reunite service members with their K-9s.
Plus, my team needed me. I was one of two defenders who kept the Wildcatters on the positive side of goals scored.
“It’s okay, Lennon,” Vivian said, likely noting my rising worry. “That wound is the worst, like I said, but you’ll make a full recovery. In fact, if you grow your beard, no one will know it’s there.”
I dropped my hand. “Okay. That’s good. Very good. I won’t have to quit. I’ll heal before the season. Good.”
“Yes, it is good.” Vivian offered a tentative smile, and I responded with my own.
But my head ached, and worry settled over me. I hurt. I was unsettled by the lack of arrests. “You need to go home,” I said.
“I will. I have to get back to work?—”
“Right. So you should go now. You’ll be safe there.”
