Something soft touched Vince’s hand, and he started to pull away, not wanting to leave the fantastic dream where Ariana’s nipple was in his mouth as she rode him, straddling him as he sat on his bike. The stroke was somehow familiar —and insistent. He came awake slowly, wincing before he even opened his eyes at the bright lights assaulting him.
He groaned, and the voice of an angel broke through the nasty headache that was coming on like a sprinter towards a finish line. “What the hell were you thinking, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?”
Despite the berating and judgmental words, the tone was soft and tender, and Vince’s lips tilted up at the corners. He would have recognized that angel’s voice anywhere. “I was thinking about you, actually.” His voice sounded like a steel toe boot on gravel, but at least he could form words now.
“Really? And the thought of me made you so sick you had to wash it away with a gallon of liquor?” Sarcasm. It was as sweet as chocolate right now.
“It wasn’t a gallon. I don’t even think I finished the bottle of whiskey.”
“Oh, that’s better. Vince, if this is some ploy to get me to—“
He squeezed her hand, essentially stopping her argumentative speech, and he forced his eyes open. He could die happy and get rid of this rancid pain in his gut and his skull if he could just see her face one more time.
Ariana looked drawn, concerned, and angry. Vince wanted to ask her if there was something bothering her, but at the moment, he wanted to pretend she was just that upset at finding him this ill. “You didn’t answer my calls,” he rasped, each word making his head throb worse. “I bet you didn’t even listen to my voicemails.”
She pressed her lips tightly together, and it made lines appear around her eyes and mouth. “I haven’t answered anyone’s calls or heard anyone’s voicemails. I haven’t felt like having company. Besides, I’ve had other things to tend to lately.”
Her voice was detached, aggravated, and distant. “Talk to me, Ariana. Tell me what’s wrong.” He wanted to fix her, whatever was wrong. If that meant she was going to rail at him for his behavior, so be it. That meant she cared, and he deserved the punishment anyway. Then, when she was done, they could erase everything that had come between them, kiss, and make up.
“You really want to hear it? Fine.” She dropped his hand and started pacing the room. “Do you know that my father is almost out of time, is so doped he can barely lift his own head, and hasn’t been cared for? My mom and sister don’t give a shit, and I just had to threaten a lawsuit because he’s got bedsores and hasn’t eaten in days.” She rounded on him and leaned on the side of the bed, getting in his face. “You pulled some stupid crap that got you thrown in jail, and I hate you for that. I’m thrilled you’re out, but I don’t even know whether to believe you’re innocent or that you’ve somehow corrupted the system. And now, you continue your bad boy behavior, drinking yourself into oblivion. It was only luck that you didn’t die overnight and that you have friends who care enough to bring you to the hospital—despite the fact that they’re covered with your nasty, rank, spoiled whiskey vomit. Oh, and I screwed up my elbow and shoulder scrubbing my sink this morning, just to piss me off even further. Are you satisfied?”
Vince watched her, feeling her pain and wanting to take it away. The only thing he could think to do was lift a hand, brush the back of his hand over her cheeks, and say, “I’m sorry, Ariana.”
She scoffed. “You’re sorry. I’m standing here, staring at a miracle because, based on your blood alcohol content when you came in here, you should be dead. Do you comprehend that, Vince? Do you really understand what that means? You’re not a cat, and you don’t have nine lives. I don’t think you’re a Buddhist or Hindu, either; so, you likely won’t get reincarnated. If you did, your karma would warrant you coming back as a flea that gets under the skin and irritates to the point of madness.”
He shifted with a grunt, so he could grin right into her beautiful puppy dog eyes. “I could still die. Would you miss me?”
He watched her rage hit the point of explosion, her face turning purple and her entire body shaking, and then it blew out of her, the lines and worry returning to her face. Vince was actually taken off-guard when she leaned in and kissed him, hard and meaningfully. She pulled back quickly and gave him a warning look. “I don’t want you involved in any further self-destructive behavior. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mother,” he quipped, watching her with delight and finding his body finally responding to something for the first time in days. “So, was that our kiss and make up?”
She scowled at him. “Do you really think it’s that easy? You made a public spectacle of yourself, and I’m already fighting to get the respect I deserve in the medical community. Now, you’re here, like someone who has to be put on 48-hour suicide watch, and anyone who’s seen us together is going to have some snarky comment.”
She covered her face with her hands, and Vince’s smile faded. His body hurt like he’d been trampled by a pack of scared elephants on the run, but that pain wasn’t as deep as the pain that hit him at her humiliation. He reached out and took one of Ariana’s wrists, pulling her hand from her face and to his mouth. He kissed her palm and said, “I’m truly sorry, Ariana. I love you.”
Her hand relaxed in his, and suddenly, she laid her head on his chest. He rested his chin on her hair, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo and laying his hand on her back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. She was so warm, and despite the strong front she showed people, she was soft and vulnerable. If he wasn’t careful, he would break her, emotionally and mentally if not physically.
“Hey, I’m here, and I’m alright, and I’m not going to pull a stupid stunt like this again.” He kissed the top of her head, and tentatively, he said, “I saw your father.”
She nodded against him. “I know. He told me.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “The man you see in that room, though…that’s not my father. It’s an empty shell that pretends to be the man who raised me.” She lifted her head, and Vince saw the first streaks on her face. “I saw him four days ago, Vince, and since then, he’s lost another ten or fifteen pounds. He’s got bedsores, and he can’t even lift his own water to his mouth. I’m losing him, and I’ve wasted so much time hating him. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
Vince’s heart cried, and he pushed himself to sit up. “Come on,” he said, moving Ariana aside so he could swing his legs over the edge of the narrow cot.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m not doing anything because I can’t. I’m hooked up to an IV that’s pouring in faster than I can pour it out, and it’s making every inch of my body swell—from my toes and fingers to my balls. Plus, every time I move, another stake gets driven through my head, and my stomach feels like someone tore a hole right through my navel and poured cyanide in.” He stood, catching himself with a hand on the tree holding the bags of fluid until he steadied himself. “But we are going to see your father.”
Ariana shook her head. “No way, Vince. You’re in no condition to walk these halls, and if you think I’m going to take the heat for you acting like a fool, you’re wrong.”
“Not a chance. I’ll tell anyone who reams me that I kidnapped you and forced you at gun point.”
“Right…because you can bring a gun into a hospital.”
He smirked. “You kiss me like that again, and my cock sticking out will be close enough.” Her cheeks went red again, and he chuckled, despite the agony it caused him.
Cocking her head and putting her hands on her hips, Ariana gestured at him with her head. “I seem to remember you aren’t particularly fond of walking down the halls with your ass hanging out.”
Vince looked down and cursed. “Why the hell do they have to strip me down to pump salt water into my veins? Where are my damn clothes?” He searched the room and found his jeans folded on a chair, but his shirt was nowhere to be seen. Gritting his teeth, he said, “I’m assuming that sealed bag over there is my shirt, covered with upchuck.”
“Probably.” Ariana’s amusement rankled him, but he let it go.
With an irritated sound, he yanked his pants off the chair and pulled them on his body. “I guess this is going to have to be good enough.” He considered putting on the fresh pair of hospital socks he saw on the rolling table, but he decided he’d rather be barefoot than walk around in those stupid things. “Come on, let’s go see your father.”