Damien
Squeezing my eyes closed, I rub my temples, my stomach turning at the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens swirling through my mind. No matter how much I try, my head won’t turn off, and my anxiety builds with every minute that ticks by and I don’t hear anything.
Tinsley stirs in her sleep, and more conflicting emotions stir. Raising her head to meet my eyes. Her breath brushes along my neck and a jolt of arousal flows through me, making it difficult to sit still. Tinsley Colt is the only woman to ever get that kind of rise out of me. The need to take this woman and make her mine is overwhelming. And that thought alone welcomes the anger, guilt, and shame. I wasn’t there with them to prevent any of this from happening, and here I am, having thoughts about sex and Tinsley when I have no idea what shape my sister is in. I am one huge fuck up.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hall has my eyes snapping open. Tinsley lifts her head as a short, balding man in scrubs walks into the waiting area. “Mr. Heath?” he calls out. A lump forms in my throat and I stand on shaky legs, unsure I really want to hear what he has to say. I watch his face, hoping it will give something away, but his expression is completely neutral.
“I’m Damien Heath. How’s my sister?” I ask, my voice quiet and weak. Tinsley intertwines her fingers with mine. He looks down at the floor before speaking.
“She has suffered an Acute Subdural Hematoma—bleeding outside the brain. Pressure is building and if we don’t get that under control very soon...” I raise my hand to stop him from saying his next words.
“Please, don’t say it. Just tell me how you plan to fix it.”
“We are going to drain the blood to relieve the building pressure.”
“Will that work?”
“I’m optimistic.” I swallow hard, my hands shaking. He’s optimistic. Optimistic. They are going to…what? Stick a needle in Dahlia’s head? Perform full-blown surgery? And he’s only hopeful?
“Can I see her?” I ask, my voice breaking on the last word.
“You can, but only briefly. She hasn’t regained consciousness,” he states. Nodding, I follow him to Dahlia’s room. As we walk down the hallway, the heavy smell of antiseptic fills the air, and I have to swallow back the bile that rises in my throat. Memories of when my mom was sick and in the hospital for months start to take hold as a crushing weight threatens to concave my chest. Breathing in through my mouth, I try to shove the memories aside. We stop in front of a room and I take a moment to steel myself before creaking open the door and stepping through. Her swollen, black and blue face has the air stuttering in my lungs as shock sets in. I close my eyes for a moment as tears prick the back of my eyes and an overwhelming flood of despair batters at my insides. She’s barely recognizable.
I force my legs to push forward through the buckling sensation and scoot the chair from the corner of the room beside the bed. Reaching for her hand, I hesitate, unsure whether I should touch her or not. There are so many tubes and wires connected to her hands, chest, and face. She’s in enough pain, I don’t want to cause her more.
“You can hold her hand. It won’t hurt her,” a voice in the doorway says. I turn to see a gray-haired nurse smiling at me. Moving into the room, she checks the monitors while jotting notes on a clipboard. As careful and gentle as I can, I lift Dahlia’s hand in mine, trying not to tug on any of the tubes. A sob catches in my throat, but I swallow it before it can erupt. I have spent my life looking after and protecting my sister, and this time, there was nothing I could do. There’s still nothing I can do.
“I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat if I could,” I whisper. Tears begin to slide down my cheeks, and I don’t bother to stop or hide them. There’s no point. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on her hand and pray to any and every god there is Dahlia will make it through this. The crushing weight is back, and stronger than before. If she doesn’t, I’m afraid I won’t either. “Please be okay, little sister. Who’s gonna set my ass straight if you’re not around?” I squeeze her hand tighter and swipe away my tears with our joined fist. A hand lands on my shoulder and I jerk my head up, my swollen eyes meeting the nurse’s.
“We need to prep her for surgery now. I promise we’ll take good care of her. I’ll come to the waiting room as soon as I have any news,” she says, her voice soft, soothing. Standing, I bend down and place a soft kiss on Dahlia’s forehead.
“I love you, Dahlia. Stay strong, baby girl. I’ll be here when you wake up,” I tell her, hoping she can hear me, or at least feel me. “Thank you,” I say to the nurse as I pass by her.
I walk back to the waiting room, my heart heavy. If something does go wrong, how do I explain that to my little girl? She’s going to want to know why, and that’s something I don’t even know myself. I feel like it’s my mother all over again. The helpless feeling I had back then is back, and this time, instead of it being Dahlia I have to look after, it’s Sami. When I get to the doorway of the waiting room, I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. The sight before me warms my heavy heart. Tinsley is sleeping on the sofa in the back of the room with a sleeping Sami on top of her, her head on Tinsley’s chest while her hand rests on her cheek. Tinsley has both arms wrapped tightly around Sami’s tiny body. The two of them look so peaceful.
“My girls,” I whisper to myself.
Tinsley’s eyes open and instantly find me. A shy smile crosses her face. I walk over and carefully lift Sami so Tin can crawl out from under her. Tinsley grabs the blanket from the end of the couch and covers Sami with it as soon as I lay her back on the couch. Thankfully, she’s out like a light.
“How’s Dahlia?” Tinsley questions as we grab a seat in the chairs next to the sofa. I look up to the ceiling, focusing on the stained tiles. They look dirty and out of place. You’d think a hospital would want everything to look clean. Tinsley places her hand on my leg, bringing my attention back to her and her question.
“She looks bad. Her face...it’s so messed up,” I tell her, my voice low. Saying it out loud makes it even more of a reality. As if seeing it wasn’t enough. She squeezes my leg. “Thank you for taking care of Sami. I’m so glad you were there.” I let out a stuttering breath, barely holding on.
“She’s a great kid. I’m glad I was there too. She was so scared at first…” she says as she closes her eyes, her face scrunching up.
“How did you come by the accident?” She shivers next to me, her eyes popping open.
“I was in the park. Dahlia saw me and asked if she and Sami could join me,” she recalls, shaking her head, a frown marring her face. “When the light turned green, she started to go. I saw the truck, but it happened so fast. I...couldn’t do anything. I had…I had to watch it happen,” she says as a sob escapes. Her body begins to tremble and the dreaded helplessness seeps in again. Without thinking about the consequences, I lean over, scoop her up, and place her in my lap. She stiffens at my touch, but then relaxes into me, her head resting on my shoulder and hands gripping my arms. I run my hand up and down her back, trying to soothe her as best as I can.
“I’m so sorry you had to see that, but I’m so thankful you were there for Sami. I can’t imagine how scared she would have been if you weren’t.”
Burying her head into my neck, her breath hits my skin, and I pull her tighter to me. The feel of her in my arms again, this close to me, is heaven.