Another nurse works to get him undressed so they can finish their exam, and I turn away, giving him his privacy.
“This isn’t good. Joelle, call Dr. Farley,” the nurse in charge says to the other nurse in the room before turning to me. “Any idea how he got these?” she asks sharply.
When I turn to look at what she’s referring to, the room sways violently.
Zeke’s ribs are a swirl of blue, purple, and black, like someone fucking kicked him. The discoloration fans up to his chest and wraps around his side as well.
I’m two seconds away from punching the wall as the realization slams into me.Someone did kick him.
“I’ll fucking kill him,” I mutter out loud.
“Excuse me?” the nurse says, her eyes widened in horror.
“Nothim!” I clarify, pointing at Zeke. “His boyfriend. I know he’s responsible, and I want charges filed.”
Eloise steps next to me.
“Talon, think about this. There will be no way to keep that quiet, not with your name involved. Maybe Zeke doesn’t want that kind of attention,” she says rationally.
“So, what? You’d have me do nothing?”
“Notnothing. Just wait a beat before doingsomething. This needs to be Zeke’s choice.”
Bile rises in my throat as I move toward the bed, desperate to make the colors on his skin disappear somehow.
“I can’t let this go, and I know Zeke will. Get our attorney on the phone, El. I want a plan in place as soon as possible.”
Eloise looks uneasy, but grabs her phone to fulfill my request when she almost runs straight into a man in scrubs and a white lab coat entering the room in a hurry. He pushes me aside and starts barking orders. As they’re cutting Zeke’s pants off, the doctor tries to get Zeke’s attention, but he’s out cold. Thankfully, the heart monitor is still beeping, but that doesn’t seem to be appeasing the doctor any.
Crossing to the phone in the room, he dials an extension with only four numbers, telling me whoever he’s trying to reach is inside the hospital.
“Can you page Dr. Halstadt and the OR team? I’ve got a patient with suspected internal bleeding, and I believe he’s gone septic.” After hanging up, he turns back to me. “Does he have any allergies to medication?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him.
“When was the last time he ate?”
“I don’t know that either, but I doubt he had much of an appetite after…” The sentence starts angrily, but I get choked up and lose steam. Thinking about Derek hurting Zeke makes me shake with uncontrollable rage.
It dawns on me in this moment how much I don’t know about Zeke, and that pisses me off, too. I only know his last name because it was listed in the playbill for the show.
The doctor nods and returns his attention to the bruised, unconscious man in the bed as the nurses begin unplugging Zeke from the monitor and push him out the door.
I’m frozen in place, so far out of my element here, and scared shitless for the first time in my life because money can’t fix him. Beingkindcan’t fix him. A legally binding contract and an NDAcan’t fucking fix him.
“They’re taking him to surgery. Internal bleeding,” I explain as my sister comes back through the door. “What do I do?” I ask, more lost in this moment than I’ve ever been.
“Wait here,” she instructs, leaving the room a second time.
My legs have gone weak, and I collapse into the chair in the corner, planting my elbows on my knees and placing my head in my hands.
“The charge nurse said we can wait for Zeke in the OR waiting room,” Eloise informs me when she returns. “The cafeteria is also up on the third floor if we want to grab coffee or something.”
“Where’s he going to be after surgery?”
“I’m not sure,” Eloise replies.
I feel so helpless, and I fuckinghatefeeling helpless. I’m a workhorse. Long hours, a million things on my to-do list, constantly evolving, growing, expanding…that’s what I do, what my whole family does. So, I need to start being proactive before I lose my fucking mind.
