Lark
Rowen is hurt.
He’s in the hospital.
He needs me.
These truths play on a continuous loop as I approach the emergency room parking ramp after a seriously questionable journey since my focus is scattering with the passing wind. The drive flies by as I whizz down the empty streets, thankful beyond belief that my apartment is so close. I barely remember getting to my car before having to run back upstairs for my keys and phone which I carelessly left behind. The nurse I’d spoken to couldn’t tell me much, other than Rowen had been seriously injured, and just got out of surgery. I will know the rest soon enough.
My blurry eyes keep leaking as I stumble into the bustling lobby but luckily the information desk isn’t hard to find. When the receptionist tells me only immediate family are allowed to visit, the lie about being Rowen’s wife easily rolls off my tongue. She raises a skeptical brow as she takes in my distraught appearance but must decide I look the part. Her pursed lips tell me the way before she points in his general direction.
At least I was smart enough to ditch the heels because these slippery floors are a serious hazard. My flats allow me to run without any further issues other than the constant stream of tears pouring down my face.
After finding the room, I pause for a single breath and gather my courage, even though I want to be a weepy puddle on the floor. When I open the door, my knees threaten to buckle at the sight of Rowen’s unconscious form lying on the bed. A sob breaks free before I can stop it, but I clasp a trembling palm over my mouth to mute the broken whimper.
My feet shuffle silently as I quietly edge toward him, not wanting to disturb his peaceful slumber. The closer I get to his side, the more obvious it becomes that he’s knocked out. Rowen’s facial features are completely relaxed, his forehead smooth and jaw slack. He’s mostly covered by a thin white sheet but the bandages wrapped around his upper body are still apparent. My vision swims as I continue staring and picturing what’s hidden underneath. The gentle rise and fall of Rowen’s torso locks me in a trance as I settle into a chair near his bed.
I barely hear the soft knock behind me. “Mrs. Sworr?” The question is whispered but still startles me and I practically fall out of my seat.
After quickly glancing over my shoulder at the man standing in the doorway, my eyes scan around the room looking for Rowen’s mother. When my gaze settles on the stranger again, I realize he’s talking to me. My mind trips on the term until I remember why he’s calling me that.
I nod while responding softly, “Yes, that’s me.”
He steps further into the room before introducing himself. “I’m Dr. Richmond, the doctor on call tonight.” His tone is kind and genuine, making me feel a sliver of comfort.
We shake hands briefly—and awkwardly—since I’m still freaking the eff out internally.
Something horrible happened to Rowen, like really fucking bad, and he’s still lying motionless in recovery. My eyelids flutter before closing completely, the weight of this situation becoming too much.
Dr. Richmond clears his throat before diving in. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Mrs. Sworr. The most important thing to know is that Rowen is expected to make a full recovery. He’s young and healthy, which benefits him immensely. The multiple stab wounds—”
I gasp audibly.
“ . . . To his abdomen and shoulder caused a lot of blood loss. His spleen was damaged and his lung was punctured, that’s why it was necessary to operate.” He explains calmly while my misery washes down my cheeks. Dr. Richmond’s face pinches slightly before he keeps going. “There was a significant spike in his temperature, which lead us to believe more was going on. We caught the infection quickly, before the bacteria could spread. Thankfully his cousin found him right away and called an ambulance, otherwise Rowen’s condition could have been far worse.”
A loud cry bubbles from me before I can trap it and the doctor pauses in understanding. The gears in my brain are grinding in an attempt to keep up with all the complicated information tossed my way. It’s all too much. My head drops as another round of tears flow, my entire body shakes from the overwhelming emotion.
“I think that’s enough for now. It’s a great thing you’re here for him. Feel free to stay right where you are,” The doctor says while I try getting a grip on myself.
Between sniffles I manage to ask, “How long will he be sleeping?”
Dr. Richmond grabs Rowen’s chart. “Looks like he was given a pretty hefty sedative to keep him resting through the night. Rowen might not regain consciousness until tomorrow afternoon depending on his blood pressure and fever. His body went through severe trauma and needs to recuperate.”
I swallow several times before trying to speak. “Okay, thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me.”
He gives me a small, professional smile. “Of course. If either of you need anything, there’s a call button on the remote.” He gestures to the bedrail. “Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Sworr. Your husband is in great hands,” Dr. Richmond adds before heading out.
Even through my thick sadness, flutters erupt at the mention of Rowen as my husband regardless of it not being true. I move the chair even closer until my knees brush the cool sheets. My puffy eyes flicker over every inch of him while my head tries making sense of all this. My brain is stuffed with the cotton of too much medical jargon but I definitely caught the part where he was stabbed—multiple times—and had an infection.
Who the hell would do something like this?
I keep staring at Rowen’s motionless form, praying and wishing he wakes up soon. He needs to open his beautiful blue eyes and call me Sweetheart in that deep timbre I’m so crazy about. I need to feel the shivers coursing through my body from that sexy voice while being blasted with his beaming gaze.
Rowen is so still it’s almost frightening, especially since I’m surrounded by the clinical white walls and antiseptic scent. Only the rhythmic rise and fall of his heavily bandaged chest lets me know he’s alive, and I’m so effing thankful for that. I couldn’t survive without him.
No freaking way.
Recalling every moment I wasted being cold and distant churns in my stomach like acid. I forfeited so much precious time by pushing him away and now, desperation to have every lost second claws at my aching spirit.
The doctor told me Rowen will be alright but I need to see him awake and well in order to believe it. My seeking gaze devours him and even in this battered state, he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. His handsome features standout against the stark linens. Thicker scruff coats his jaw and the coarse hair scratches my fingers as I stroke along his golden skin. I lean in to kiss his warm cheek as a tear drips down my own. Wires and tubes are connected to his muscular arms as they relax against the bed, pumping necessary fluids into his veins but the sight is extremely upsetting to me. The large boulders in his biceps and sinewy veins in his forearms show his vitality, his amazing heath, yet he’s strapped to machines. Beneath the gauze, I know there are slabs of rippling abs that make up an eight-pack.
How could this happen to him?
Only Rowen has the answers but it doesn’t matter right now. This minute, I need to flood him with positivity and healing vibes. My hand slips into his and the familiar electricity zips through my body. Suddenly the monitor for his heart begins beeping wildly and my own pulse races at the thought of something being wrong. I clutch his palm tighter before placing a gentle kiss along his fingers, imagining my love flowing into him. The rapid noises slow to a regular beat and I release the nervous breath trapped in my lungs.
Rowen is going to be okay.
Even though he’s unconscious and unaware of my presence, I can’t yank my stare away. My body is drawn to his like a magnet that can’t pull away. He’d appreciate my leering and maybe, somewhere deep inside of him, Rowen knows I’m here looking out for him. Carefully laying my head down near his hip, I imagine him combing through my hair and whispering sweet words of our forever. Tears distort my vision as a sob wracks through me. Rowen was suffering alone, bleeding out on the street, while I was talking nonsense with Willow. More time thrown away that I won’t ever get back.
Please come back to me, Rowen.
Please, please, please.
A machine starts going nuts with loud sounds but before I can think much of it, the door slams open as an older couple storms in like gangbusters. My head whips off the bed as I spin in my chair. I blink quickly to clear the blur as my chest pounds in surprise. The woman is weeping and seems to be dragging the man behind her as they zoom up to Rowen’s side. As the shock wears off and I study the pair in tense silence, there is a noticeable resemblance and I assume these are his parents.
Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to myself, I remain quiet while they take in the scene before them. I’m sure they’re going through similar waves of distress and need a minute to absorb it all. When the woman’s sky-blue gaze swings my way, I’m certain she’s Rowen’s mother.
I can’t seem to move, mostly because my hand refuses to let go of Rowen, so I give them a pathetic wave. “Hello. I’m Lark. Not sure if Rowen ever—”
His mother interrupts with a sweet smile. “Oh honey, we know who you are. Our son talks about you nonstop.” She motions between them. “I’m Jean and this is Steve. We’ve been waiting by the phone for Rowen to call with some very exciting news. When we heard he was rushed to the hospital, that wasn’t what we were expecting but drove over as quickly as we could. The nurse told us his wife was already here though . . .” Jean’s explanation trails off while she blatantly peeks at my left hand.
My clouded mind is whirling as I try digesting her words. When they register, my face heats with extreme embarrassment. “Uhhh, yeah . . . about that.” I stutter while figuring out what to say. My anxious gaze bounces along the sterile walls while I mentally smack myself for making up the lie.
Steve chuckles lightly at my obvious distress. “Don’t worry, Lark. It will be official soon enough.”
Jean shushes and shoots him a look while my heart trips over the meaning. Was Rowen actually going to—
“So, has the doctor been in yet? Do you know what happened?” His mother cuts into my thoughts.
I shake my head before nodding, realizing belatedly the mixed messages I’m sending off. My chin wobbles from the overwhelming onslaught of everything piling up.
“Yes, Dr. Richmond came by when I first arrived. When he was talking, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that Rowen was in the hospital. He was stabbed multiple times.” I gesture to his chest as his mother claps a hand over her mouth. “And he has an infection. They had to operate too.” A sobs breaks up my sentence and Jean wraps her arms around me. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon to answer more questions,” I manage to blubber out.
“Hush, dear. That’s fine for now. He’s going to be all right and you’re here with him.” She sniffles against my head. I lean into her, appreciating the motherly comfort, loving her already.
She steps back and clasps her husband’s hand. Jean and Steve stand in silence while staring at their sleeping son. This seems like an intimate family moment that I’m intruding on but there’s no separating me from Rowen. My weary eyes swing back to him as I give his hand a delicate squeeze.
His parents drag chairs to the other side of the bed before settling in. Lincoln comes in a while later, looking grief stricken and pale as hell, quickly explaining that the police took forever while getting his statement. We all talk together for a few hours until it’s almost three o’clock in the morning with no change to Rowen’s condition. Several nurses have stopped in and reassured us that he needs the rest and his body is working on healing. Jean and I openly share tears while Steve and Lincoln attempt to console us with lighter tales of Rowen’s childhood. Even though this wasn’t the ideal way to meet his parents, I’m so glad they’re here.
When it’s been made clear he’ll keep sleeping for several more hours, his parents leave for a nearby hotel and encourage me to come with them. I politely decline, more than happy to remain exactly where I am. Even though Rowen isn’t awake, he’s here and that means this is where I’m meant to be. Lincoln takes off too, letting me know he’ll be back in the morning.
My soul wants me to curl up on the mattress with Rowen but my brain takes stock of his injuries and the tangle of wires. Instead of causing more harm, I lay my head near his wounded middle and try relaxing my muddled mind.
Throughout the rest of the night, there are a few episodes where Rowen’s blood pressure rises out of control as his heart rate soars through the roof. Nurses rush in to administer more medicine but before they do, I grasp his palm tighter and kiss his wrist. It seems like his pulse regulates from my touch alone but that’s impossible. That’s what I tell myself though and it helps steady my own frazzling system.
After the most recent scare fades away and the nurses shuffle out, I find a pen to make a change on my wrist that’s long overdue. While glancing at my sleeping prince, I get the inspiration for a special design that we can share. After covering my empty heart with different ink and new meaning, Rowen gets his symbol of my unconditional love with a piece of the doodle. Fresh tears stream down the dried tracks from moments ago as I remember drawing similar pictures right before meeting Rowen. A small smile lifts my lips as I keep working through blurry eyes.
Eventually the pen stops and I manage to nod off because my body is too wrung out. Sleep cannot be denied any longer. Dreams of Rowen float through my subconscious. We’re dancing on the porch at that cabin in Missouri, smiling and happy. Words of eternal love float around our swaying forms. He kisses my forehead before whispering sweetness in my ear. I snuggle closer and tell him this is forever.
The sensation of fingers softly stroking through my hair wakes me and a content sigh escapes my chapped lips. My eyes blink open and immediately lock onto Rowen’s serene ocean gaze. A warm grin lifts his lips when he catches me awake.
“Hey, Sweetheart,” he murmurs smoothly, in that husky voice I’ve been longing to hear.
Before Rowen can say anything else, I burst into uncontrollable tears as my heart sings with happiness.