been asking her about it. She hasn’t remembered.” I hook her up to an IV and place the bag on the hook. I don’t bother wheeling her into the surgical room. I start to operate on her right then and there. The pain doesn’t wake her up.
“What happened to her?” Moretti asks.
“Don’t act like you care. I don’t have time for you right now.” I see the bleeder, it’s a small nick, but it definitely would have killed her if Badge hadn’t found her when he did. With her artery cauterized, I suture her skin, pressing it together and try to make small, even X’s. No matter what I do, the scar will be bad. It’s long, so fucking long, and I’m taken back to only a week ago when I found her with her arms slit.
God, has it only been a week? It feels like an eternity with everything that’s gone down.
When the last stitch is in, I clean off the wound and put another bandage over her leg. I don’t understand what could’ve made her do this. I’m stumped. I thought everything was going great, but then again, I’m not feeling what she’s feeling. So I’m not going to understand. I just want to protect her. I want to shield her from this kind of pain. I want to be the safety net that catches her when she falls so she knows there’s someone there waiting with their arms open.
“Can someone keep an eye on her while I go clean up?” I say in a monotone voice, tired, spent, and unhappy. “I need my phone.” I hold out my hand to Badge, who’s soaked from head to toe with blood. “Wait,” I say, stopping him from giving it to me. “I need to check the heartbeat of the baby and see if it’s still there.” I rub my temples with my fingers, forgetting that I have her blood all over my hands.
I’m not sure how much longer I can deal with being a doctor down here all by myself, especially when I know Jo is going to be taking up so much of my attention. That isn’t a complaint. I want her to.
I love every fucked up part of her.
And I won’t let her be fucked up alone.
With tired steps, I walk toward the cabinet and open it, pulling out the portable ultrasound machine. I wonder if it matters. Does she care? I care. I want her which means I want this baby. That asshole, whoever took advantage of her, gave up his right as a father when he raped her.
I’ll take care of what’s mine.
And they are mine.
I stride to her side, and she starts to ruse. I know she’ll be in pain because I didn’t have time to put her under. She was unconscious. Before I check the heartbeat, I open the drawer for some morphine and stick it into her IV bag, something I should’ve done earlier.
It’s hard to focus when someone I love needs me to save them, when all I want to do is have the ability to freak the fuck out and have another doctor take care of them.
“Eric,” she mumbles. “Badge?” She turns her head to see Badge sitting next to her, and he leans forward, shaking his head.
“Girl, you about gave us a heart attack. Don’t you know we’re too old for shit like that?”
“Sorry, Badge. I—”
“Shh, it’s okay. We all have our demons, and sometimes, they possess us. It’s why everyone here is a sounding board. It’s easier said than done, but talk to us,” Badge says, taking her hand in his.
I lean forward and take a deep breath, in and out, and try to figure out what to say. I want to yell at her. I want to understand why she wants to leave me so bad. If she leaves me, and my mom is going to die, I’ll be alone.
I don’t want to be alone. I’ve never been alone.
I don’t do lonely well.
And maybe that isn’t the best thing to admit because I’m a man. I’m a biker. I’m a Ruthless King, but you know what? I’m not like the other guys. They can be alone, suffer in silence, and say they don’t need love.
But I’m not like them.
I do need it.
I need love, and I need to love. That’s who I am. I’m not ashamed of that. My mom taught me love is the greatest warrior someone can have inside themselves, and she was right because