Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,88
thorough washing with saline, he peers at me through the ridiculous pair of glasses balancing on the end of his nose. They have lights on each side of the lenses. “Stitches or glue?”
“I—”
“Stitches or glue?” he repeats, knowing I was about to say it’s fine how it is.
The tightness of my jaw is heard in my reply, “What will get you out of here faster?”
“Glue—”
“Then glue it is.”
Halfway through the gluing of my hand, I’m tempted to cement Dok’s lips together. It isn’t because his question annoys me, I just have no clue how to answer it without sounding like a soft cock.
He asked why I want his iPod.
I wait until he has my palm glued up and he’s reaching for a bandage before I say, “Rain reminds me of K. I’m wondering if it could be the same for her.”
“Did something significant happen to her in the rain?” When I lift my chin, he asks, “A good thing?”
For the first time in my life, I’m unwilling to share my sexcapades with one of my brothers, so I once again nod my head. Usually, I’m all about sharing details of my hookups. There’s no eagerness this time around. That afternoon in the rain changed things for K and me. I’m just praying it was noteworthy enough to help her find her way out of the dark.
“Do you think triggering her memory is worth a shot?”
Dok finishes bandaging my hand before locking his eyes with mine. “It won’t hurt her. Just keep your expectations low.” He drifts his caring eyes to K lying still as a plank as she has the past fifteen hours before returning them to me. “She isn’t the only one who needs to tread cautiously right now.”
“I’m not a headcase, Dok.”
“I never said you were.” He stands from his seat, tucks it back under the vanity mirror at the side of the room before shifting on his feet to face me. “You just need to ensure you’re helping her because it’s what she wants, and not what you think she wants.”
“How can I know what she wants? She can’t communicate with me even when she’s alert.”
“Are you sure about that?” Dok asks, smirking. “Because from what I’m seeing, she’s stronger than I realized.”
I glare at him like he’s certifiably insane, my eyes only leaving his when I follow the direction of their gaze. To someone who hasn’t been watching over her for the past fifteen hours straight, they’d believe K is still unresponsive and shutdown. I know that isn’t the case. She moved her head. Not enough to have me believing she’s close to leaving the dark, but there’s no doubt she angled her head so she could see me in the reflection of the full-length mirror in the bathroom. I’ve been lying directly beside her for the majority of our trip, but my change in position to the end of the bed so Dok could patch up my hand put me out of her line of sight.
Acting ignorant to the panic beaming out of me, Dok shoves his iPod into my hand. “Be gentle with her, Trey.”
“I don’t know how,” I reply before I can stop myself.
He acts as if I never spoke. “Track 37 is my favorite summer afternoon rain track. It only goes for around four minutes, but you can play it on repeat.”
Not speaking another word, he leaves me alone with K. I’m not going to lie. I’m shitting my pants. Gentle isn’t in my vocabulary, but I sure as fuck want to be gentle for K.
Can I do that, though? Can a man who’s raised his hand to women shelter one who has been beaten beyond recognition?
If you had asked me that very question only three months ago, I would have said hell no. Now? Now I’m willing to give it a shot. The most euphoric thing in the world is watching the light switch on in someone’s eyes long after they’ve been trapped by the dark.
I swear Nikolai’s ego still feeds off his feat now.
After unwinding the cords around Dok’s iPod, I push back the curls fanning K’s face before popping a pod into her exposed ear. The other half goes into mine. Once I’ve pressed play on the track Dok suggested, I lay on my side so I can watch K’s face for any indication she can hear the patters of rain on a tin roof.
Dok picked good. This track sounds exactly like a sprinkling of rain hitting a pigpen.