Chapter Three
Charlotte
The next evening, I find Smokey alone in his room. He’s asleep, but I can’t stand the thought of him waking and nobody being there. After finishing my rounds, I grab my stack of patient files and head back down the hall to Smokey’s room.
Grabbing a chair, I pull it over to the chair beside his bed, where Ryker usually sits each night. After placing my files on one chair, I sit back in the other and start my paperwork. Smokey’s breathing has become more labored since he was admitted. His meds seem to be keeping him free from pain, but I can tell that breathing is even more of a struggle for him. Where’s his family? Or Ryker for that matter? He’s always here at this time.
I’m halfway through my reports when the door opens. I look up with a smile on my face, expecting to see Ryker, but the smile wavers when I see it’s not him. Standing before me is the scary biker from the hall, the day Smokey was admitted. He steps into the room and closes the door. My heart races, realizing that I’m closed inside a room with this guy. He glances at Smokey and then spears me in place with narrowed, angry eyes.
“What the hell are you sittin’ in here for?” His voice is rough and accusatory. Completely caught off guard, words fail me and I sit there staring at him with wide eyes, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. What the hell does he think I’m doing in here?
“I … I just.” I clear my throat and try again. “I’m just keeping Smokey company. Nobody was here, so I thought I’d sit with him in case he wakes up.” I stand and quickly begin gathering my things. “But you’re here now, so I will leave you to your visit.” I fumble while gathering up my files and they fall to the ground, papers scattering across the floor.
“Why’s he breathin’ so rough? Can’t you give him somethin’ to help him breathe?” He takes a menacing step towards me while I kneel on the floor, once again collecting my folders. My hands are shaking, my heart threatening to leap out of my chest entirely. “We brought the poor fucker here so he could be at peace. This doesn’t look too fuckin’ peaceful.”
As he takes another step, getting far too close for my comfort, I jump to my feet. “He …” My throat won’t cooperate with me at all and I just can’t get out the words. Struggling to swallow back my fear, I take a step back from the giant monster in front of me.
Just as I’m about to try another attempt at explaining, the door opens again and Ryker fills the doorway. Relief floods my entire body. He steps inside, his eyes flicking from the angry monster to me. I watch his face darken, his jaw tightening.
“What the fuck, Reaper?” So monster man’s name is Reaper? I shiver. Charming. “What’d you do to Charlie?” My eyes snap from one man to the other.
Ryker storms past his buddy, shoulder slamming into him as he passes. He heads directly towards me, and now my pulse is racing for an entirely different reason. It’s not fear, but I don’t have time to figure out what it is before he reaches me.
“Jesus Christ, baby girl. You’re shaking like a leaf!” He places his giant hands on my upper arms, rubbing them gently up and down, then turns his head to glare at Reaper once more. “Why the fuck is she so pale? What’d you do to her?”
Reaper opens his mouth to respond, but I beat him to it. I just want to get the hell out of this room. “Mr … Reaper didn’t do anything to me, Ryker.” I place my hand on his arm. Touching him skin on skin sends a jolt of electricity straight through me, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
Leaning over so I can see around Ryker, I look directly at his friend, feeling bolder now with him here – touching me. I feel safe. “Smokey is on medication. His pain is mostly gone. Unfortunately, with lung cancer, his breathing is going to get more and more difficult as it progresses. Aside from pain medications and oxygen, there isn’t much we can do for him.”
Reaper just continues to glare at me, not saying a word. “I know that seeing it isn’t easy, but be assured we’re doing everything we can to make him comfortable.” I glance back at Ryker and give him my most reassuring smile. He doesn’t look reassured. He looks pissed.
Kneeling down once again, I collect the last of my files from the floor and stand. “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have rounds to do.” I quickly step past Ryker, my chest brushing his as I do. Ignoring the butterflies that suddenly go wild from the contact, I take a wide step around Reaper and rush from the room.
In the hallway, I breathe a sigh of relief as I close the door behind me. That was intense and scary, but mostly I’m confused by the emotions Ryker caused me to feel. Squaring my shoulders, I decide to think about it later, when I’m not on shift and caring for dying people with many more important problems than my butterfly attacks.
As I approach the nurse’s desk, the call bell for Mrs. Evans’ room chimes. I plunk down my files and hurry down the hall. Mrs. Evans had taken a turn for the worst over the last couple of days. The doctor had informed her husband that it was only a matter of time, and advised that her family be called in to say their final goodbyes. Since then, there’s been a steady flow of visitors to her room and her husband hasn’t left her side. She’s been in a comatose state for almost twenty four hours now.
I’ve been giving them privacy to be with each other in her final moments, just checking in discreetly and keeping the coffee pot full. Mr. Evans is standing in the doorway, looking up the hall as I approach. His eyes are filled with tears and his voice shakes with sadness. “She’s gone.” All thoughts of scary biker men and butterflies vanish.
I enter the room and find Mrs. Evans is indeed gone. My heart is lodged in my throat. Life is just so unfair sometimes. She was so young, and her children are now going to grow up without a mother. She was such a kind lady and so full of love – I fucking hate cancer.
Slowly, I approach Mr. Evans who stands before me, looking lost. I place my hand on his arm gently. “I am so very sorry for your loss.” My voice quivers with grief for this family. Normally, I’m able to say the right things to grieving families, but looking into the eyes of this broken man, I’m at a complete loss for words.
“I will give you some time with her. The doctor will be in momentarily.” The grief clogs my throat and tears threaten to pour from my eyes. After gently squeezing his arm, I leave the room.
***
Ryker
I haven’t seen Charlie again since I walked in on whatever the fuck was going on between her and Reaper earlier. Cocksucker. When I came into that room, seeing her pale and clearly terrified, I wanted to rip that fucker’s throat out for scaring her. That thought alone is messed right the fuck up. Reaper is my brother. We stand together – always. So why did I want to kill him for scaring Charlie?
Reaper’d told me what had happened and I believed him. He can be a scary bastard, but Charlie’s reaction was extreme. She was petrified. It was eating at me, and I need to know why she’d been so afraid. I’d warned Reaper to stay the fuck away from her. He’d agreed, but not before cracking a joke about her having me by the balls. Asshole.
Smokey’s sound asleep. I need a smoke, and a break from this depressing as fuck room of death. Quietly slipping out of the room, I wander down the hall and out into the chilly night air. Snagging a cigarette out of my pack, I put it to my lips and light it. The first inhale works wonders to relieve some of the tension that’s been weighing on my shoulders and my mind for months, even if that relief is only temporary.
Waiting for your buddy to die fuckin’ sucks. My old man had been a dick. I hated the son of a bitch. Smokey’d been there for me since I was just a little kid, filling in that father role. Dad had been the president of the Kings of Korruption. He didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything but his club, and making money however he could. My mom had died when I was only six years old, so since then it’d been just me and my old man.
My dad lived and breathed the MC. We lived at the clubhouse, where I had my own room. I was raised by club whores and the old ladies of other members. I’d seen more sex, drugs and drunken disputes by the age of ten than most people had seen in their entire lives. By the time I was fifteen, I had experience with all of the above. My old man rarely spoke to me, unless I did something to piss him off. He knocked me around a lot. His hatred was evident every time he looked at me. In the end, I found that if I just avoided him, he wouldn’t even know I was around. He was killed by a rival club when I was seventeen years old, and I hadn’t missed him one day since.
Taking another deep haul off of my smoke, I look out into the night. Hearing a noise that sounds an awful lot like crying, I look towards a bench that’s cast in shadows. I can’t see over there at all, but the sounds are obviously coming from a woman. Crying women freak me right the fuck out. I’m about to look away, when a car turns into the parking lot, the headlights briefly passing over the crying figure.
An unfamiliar tightness forms in my chest when I see that it’s Charlie sitting on that bench, crying all alone in the dark. This woman has been driving me fucking insane for days. I can’t seem to get her out of my head. If I’m not thinking about her tits, or her ass, or what it would be like to be inside her, I’m thinking about something she’d said or that sexy shade of red she turns when I say something suggestive. It’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve gotten laid. I need to find some random chick, get me some and move the fuck on.
Knowing she’s upset about something, I have the overwhelming urge to go to her and make whatever’s wrong, right. Slowly, I make my way toward her, mentally cursing myself for being so weak. I need to leave her to cry. She’s not mine to take care of. Ignoring my own advice, I approach her, unsure what to do but needing to do something. I need to know what’s wrong with her.
Maybe I’m too quiet as I approach because I’m pretty sure I scare the shit out of her when I speak. “Charlie?” She makes a little squeak and jumps in her seat. Her head lifts in my direction, her face is cast in shadows. “You ok?”
She quickly wipes her face with the sleeves of her long grey sweater. “Ryker! Yeah … um … I’m good. Just getting a little air.” Her voice quivers, and I can still hear the tears in her words.
“Ah. I see.” Now what? I’m completely out of my element here. “Mind if I sit?” I gesture towards the seat on the bench beside her.
“Oh … yeah … I was actually just heading back in anyways. My fifteen minute break is just about over.” She’s attempting to be nonchalant and act like everything’s fine, but the thought of her upset about something causes my fucking guts to churn and I want to do something … anything. As long as it makes her not cry anymore.
Sitting on the bench, I turn my body towards her, and before I can stop myself, reach out to grasp her chin. A small gasp escapes her as I gently tilt her face to mine so I can look into her eyes. Now that I’m closer, I can see her clearly in the moonlight. The shadows dance across her face, doing nothing to hide her watery eyes and the tear stains on her rounded cheeks. “Why were you crying?”
I hear her breath hitch and she stiffens under my fingertips. “I wasn’t crying Ryker. Like I said, I was just getting some air.” She waves her hand in the air, changing the subject. “I’d love to sit and talk, but I really do have to be getting back in.” She smiles tightly and moves to stand. I grasp her clasped hands and press them down gently, indicating for her to stay put.
“Bullshit, Charlie.” My words are harsh but said in a whisper, hopefully not conveying anger but concern. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
She gives me a sad, shy smile. “I don’t need help. I just get a little emotional sometimes.” She takes a deep breath. “One of my patients just passed away, and there are times when that makes my job a little … difficult.”
My heart clenches in sympathy. The feeling is completely foreign. I hate that she’s hurting and don’t know what the fuck I can do to make her feel better. This woman should never cry, and I want to be the one to fix it for her. Fuck. Why can’t I just leave her alone? I shouldn’t be doing this with her.
“Why do you do it?” I know I shouldn’t ask, but I genuinely want to know. I’d wondered more than once since Smokey had been moved to palliative care. Why would someone like her want to work in a hospital like this and be around dying people all the time?
“Do what? My job?” I nod my head to indicate that yes – that is what I’m asking. She takes a deep breath and I hear her swallow hard. “I love my job. It gives my life purpose.”
“I have to admit baby, I don’t understand.” Her eyes shoot to mine at the word baby. I don’t know why I called her that, but right now, I don’t care. It just came out.
The expression on her face is vulnerable – maybe even a little unsure. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time.”
She smiles again. “Well, unfortunately, I don’t. I really do have to get back in a few minutes. Long story short, these people are dying.” She sends me an apologetic smile. “My job is to make their final days comfortable. Allow them to tie up loose ends, laugh and cry with their loved ones. And allow them to say goodbye.”
Her eyes fill with tears again. “Being able to do that for them … for their loved ones, it’s an honor. I don’t take it lightly. It can be hard not to get attached to some of them, and when they pass, it breaks my heart. Every time.”
I nod. That makes sense. She’s so different from any other woman I have known. She’s sweet and kind and she cares about people - even complete strangers. She’s pure. I haven’t spent a lot of time among civilians, having spent most of my life surrounded by the club, but I know that she’s not like most women. Even civilian women. She’s in a class all of her own. It reminds me, once again, just how different we really are, and that she doesn’t fit in my world.
A slight breeze in the air causes a stray lock to escape the mass of hair she has piled at the back of her head, only to blow across her cheek. Ito clench my fists, resisting the urge to sweep it behind her ear. She takes another deep breath, wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her sweater and smiles at me.
If I wasn’t already sitting, I would have been knocked on my ass. Fuck me. Her beauty gets me every time. Even in the dark, her chocolate brown eyes are glistening and filled with kindness. Her dark curly hair is unruly and pulled away from her face in her trademark messy bun. “I’m sorry, Ryker.” Every time she says my name, a jolt goes right through me. This is unfamiliar territory and I’m not sure how to deal with it. “You’re here for Smokey. You don’t need to be listening to his crazy nurse crying alone in the darkness.”
“Baby, don’t worry about that. I like hanging out in the darkness with you.” I bend forward slightly and catch her eyes with mine, giving her my most charming smile. What am I doing?
She chuckles softly and stands. “Well, I better be getting back to my rounds. Thanks for listening, Ryker.”
My mind racing, I just nod, toss my cigarette and watch as she turns and walks back inside. I’m not sure what to do with what I’m feeling. Charlie is unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered before and I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. I can’t not flirt with her – it’s impossible.
One thing I know for certain is that she’s just too pure for someone like me. Listening to her describe her job only proves it. She’s the light and I’m the dark. My dark would eat every ounce of her beautiful light, leaving her tarnished and dimmed. It’s going to take some effort, but I need to keep my distance from now on.