CHAPTER THREE
Jasmeen
My knees locked.
My brain took over and my eyes scanned the room for him. He was there. Right there.
My being shook.
His right leg was in a full cast, same with his left arm. His face was black and blue, and swollen. There was a huge garish gash on his right side, snaking down his ribcage. His eyes were closed.
He looked nothing like the boy I’d fallen in love with.
I covered my mouth with my hands, a sob breaking through my heartbroken panic, and stared at his broken face. Gavin was beauty reincarnate, that’s how I always felt when I looked at him. He had this rich dark brown hair, and it was always styled in this stupid fade that I secretly loved, but always criticized when he caught me ogling him. He was a tall man, six-foot-four, and he was bulky, ripped from head to toe with solid muscles courtesy of his hockey career. His eyes were the color of a fire. Dark brown around the edge and a sizzling amber near his pupil. They were magnificent. I could spend hours staring into them, losing myself, but knowing exactly who I was the entire time.
That’s how it always felt when I was with him. Like I was lost, but I knew exactly where I was going at the same time. In Gavin, I lost as much as I gained.
It was so easy for the heart to get comfortable. I felt that way now, after spending four years without it. Lost but found in seconds.
That was bad. That was dangerous. That was relapsing.
“When he wakes up, press this button,” the nurse instructed, pointing to a call button by his bed. “He’ll need more meds.”
I nodded, stepping closer to him when she closed the door. I walked to the left side of his hospital bed and stared down at him. I stood there, staring at him, tracing every single bruised feature for what felt like hours, before he moved.
His right hand twitched, and then he groaned. My heart dropped. He was waking up. But my heart waited, just like an addict, for the final hit that would finish us.
His eyes fluttered open, and then closed. They opened again, and then closed. Finally, they managed to stay open. He looked spacey, but he hadn’t met my eyes yet, so I wondered if I was the one seeing strange. He groaned, and his head moved a few inches toward me.
Our eyes locked.
My heart shattered.
His eyes. His beautiful eyes. The fire was dim, mostly brown, but I saw the blaze of amber around his pupil begging to burn.
His eyes widened, and recognition filled his gaze. “Jas,” he groaned out.
The sound of his voice hurt so much, I swallowed the heartburn.
“Jas,” he repeated, his eyes closing. A tear trailed down the side of his temple and disappeared into his hair. His lips opened, and a silent cry came out.
I’d never seen him cry before. It froze me. I wanted to comfort him, but he wasn’t mine to comfort.
His right hand lifted toward me, but I was on the other side of the bed. His eyes opened. Pain burned red. “Jas,” he whispered, his tears increasing. He looked… broken.
As shattered as I did crying myself to sleep every night.
He was asking for a hug.
I nodded to his silent question and leaned down carefully, losing control when his arm came around me for the first time in four years. I sobbed against his chest. He did so in my hair. I didn’t know why he was crying, but I knew why I was, and I’d been wrong.
Losing him wasn’t worse than this. Losing him, and then thinking I actually lost him, and then seeing him on the edge of that loss, was way, way worse. Leaving him this time would be the epitome of hell.
I nuzzled my face against his stubbly chin before I caught myself. When I pulled back, I ducked from under his arm and wiped my tears. He couldn’t wipe his, so I wiped them for him. I cupped his face between my hands delicately and skimmed my thumbs over his cheeks. His eyes closed, and more tears came. His entire body trembled.
“Jas,” he repeated, moving into my touch. His cheek rubbed against my palm.
Gavin was a tough guy. Strong in every way, and he was part Neanderthal sometimes. But he had this insane sweet side, too. He’d throw me on the bed and rip my panties off, but he’d make sure not to crush me with his weight, and he’d spend hours kissing me tenderly before taking my body.
He looked broken wide open, leaking and oozing his pain all over the room.
“Gavin,” I finally said, and he broke wide open, sobbing like he hadn’t made it out of that crash. Figuring he was in pain, I reached across his body and pressed the button.
A nurse rushed in, took a look at him, and paled. He picked up a syringe and tore the plastic free, measuring out a clear liquid and inserting it into his IV line in seconds. “That’s right,” he cooed, when Gavin sagged, and his eyes closed. “He should be out for a few more hours.”
“And then what?” I hugged myself.
The nurse sighed. “His pain is extreme. His trauma too. We need to get him to a state emotionally where we can assess his pain. Until then, it’s better this way.” He nodded at his comatose state. “Lay down, you look green yourself.” He looked at something over my shoulder before taking off.
I followed his gaze to find a small room in the corner. There was a cot the size of a twin bed, and a sitting chair. I walked over and sank down, sitting with my back to the wall and bringing my knees to my chest. I stared at his face for hours until my eyes started to drift. When I woke, I bolted upright, finding the light outside to be bright. I blinked in confusion, my eyes acclimating to the strange room, before my brain caught up.
I looked at Gavin to find him watching me. The focus he put on me was unnerving, even after all the years without it. It was like he was looking right into my soul. But I looked at his too. I knew his soul. That’s why what he did broke me.
How could you know a man inside and out and not see that side of him?
We stared at each other until my eyes needed to blink. “Are you in pain?” I spoke up, pushing to my feet. “Do you need me to call the nurse?”
The moment I spoke, his eyes started bleeding again. The red was so deep, it looked like he was burning from the inside out. He was in pain, but I didn’t think it was entirely physical.
“No,” he whispered, when I reached for the button. “Don’t.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to fade away.”
“You need the medicine, Gavin.”
He closed his eyes. “Jas,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please.”
I stepped away from the button. I didn’t know what to do. He shook so hard his bed rattled. He opened his eyes, and bled.
“Go sit down,” he ordered weakly.
So you can stare at me some more? I wondered, watching the way he watched me. Like a hawk. “I’ll sit down if you let the nurses give you some medicine.”
He breathed through soggy lungs. “Don’t leave?” he wagered.
I sighed miserably. “I’m not going anywhere, Gavin.”
That only made him cry harder. I pressed the call button and within minutes, he was out again. I nodded thanks to the nurse and looked around for a bathroom. There was one right beside my bed. I ducked in and splashed some water on my face.
And then I panicked until my knees hit the ground, and I broke; I broke down harder than I ever had.
Oh, Gavin.
First love didn’t prepare hearts for that. For breaking too many times to count.
I settled back on my cot and watched him until it happened again. I passed out and I woke up to him watching me, this time the light outside dark. I’d been there for a day and night, and nothing seemed real still.