Chapter Twenty
Nick slowly opened his eyes. His mouth was dry and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, making him grunt.
“You’re awake,” said an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “How do you feel, Mr. Martell?”
He looked to his side. A nurse stood over him . . . the one who’d helped prep him for the surgery. The one who’d been there yesterday. He couldn’t remember her name now. . . . He thought hard through the throbbing in his skull. Sadie? Sophie, that was it. A quick glance around showed him he was still in the hospital, in a room, in a bed. His head was pounding harder than it ever had in his life. “Head hurts,” he managed. “And I’m thirsty.” He barely recognized his own voice.
“Here, let me help you.” Sophie grabbed a cord and raised the head of his bed just a little, enough to get him upright. Then she brought a plastic cup to him, even put the straw between his dry lips. “Here you go.”
He drank down the water like a man who’d been in the desert for days. Jesus Christ, he’d never had a headache like this. Like his brain was an alien life form trying to shove out of his skull. He tried to sit up more, and a wave of sensation radiated from his lower left side and up his back, quick as lightning and equally powerful, stealing his breath. Nausea gripped him. The straw fell from his mouth as he hissed.
“Still sore,” she noted. “That’s to be expected.”
“It’s not . . .” He moved more carefully. “It’s actually not as bad as it was yesterday. It is a new day, right?”
“Yup. Well, that’s good.” She looked into his eyes, felt around. “You look better than you did yesterday, I’ll tell you that. Glad you got some sleep at last.”
He took a quick account of his body and decided for the most part, he did feel better than he had yesterday. The surgery itself, he didn’t remember at all. Who knew waking up from the anesthesia would be harder than that? It was a cruel twist.
His lower back, by his hip, was still sore as hell, like someone had kicked him hard. But it wasn’t brutal. The pounding headache and nausea from the anesthesia had been far worse. He’d spent the night in the hospital. Even shot off a text to his mom at some point to let her know that he was all right. Then he’d floated in and out of it all evening . . . vomited two or three times.... He remembered Pierce, Dane, Tess, and Charles all coming by to check on him, but Nick had been kind of out of it.... He’d tried to be still and slept a lot.
Now, a glance toward the window showed sunshine, and though his headache remained, it wasn’t as bad as it’d been the day before. “I’m better,” he said, his voice rough. Then his head throbbed again, making his eyes close. They’d warned he might have a headache, but this was brutal. He wouldn’t let on, though. If he did, they wouldn’t spring him, and all he wanted was to hole up in his hotel room and be miserable in peace, without being poked and prodded.
“I’m glad to hear it. But if you want to be released today,” Sophie warned, “you need to be honest about how you feel. None of the macho stuff you tried to pull yesterday. Okay?”
He sighed. “Okay.”
“I’m just going to check you over now,” she said. “Now that you’re up, I’ll let the doctor know so he can check on you too. When he gives the all-clear, you can be released, but that won’t be for a few hours.”
“Got it.” He opened his eyes and gave her a weak smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You did great, Mr. Martell. All you have to do right now is rest.”
“Okay,” he whispered. He was worse off than he’d thought it would be. Damn everyone who’d been right about that. It pissed him off. “Myles . . . is he okay?”
“He’s in recovery,” she said.
“I need more than that. I need to know how he is. . . .” Nick struggled to sit up but he moved too fast, making both his head and the back of his left hip throb at the same time. He groaned low and hard, holding still.
Six hours later, Nick was released from the hospital. Charles had planned everything ahead with the tactical efficiency of a wartime general. Pierce was the one to help Nick from the hospital room to the wheelchair—damn hospital policy—to the car. Pierce drove him to the hotel while Nick closed his eyes and tried to keep his throbbing brain inside his skull. He asked Pierce a few questions. So far, Myles was holding his own, and that was about all there was to say. The family was holding vigil at the hospital; Charles and Lisette had barely left Myles’s side, while the others had all taken turns checking in.
Nick felt heavy-limbed, sluggish, and woozy. He was more grateful than he wanted to admit when Pierce practically lifted him out of the car and slung an arm around him to keep him upright.
“I’m the strongest of the family,” he said to Nick as they slowly walked to the elevator. “Or, I was before Logan came in, but that walking mountain is out of town on business. So I was picked for this. Someone had to help drag you along.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Nick growled good-naturedly.
“Shut up,” Pierce said. “You do too.” They crossed the lobby at a slow, careful pace. “Besides, I’m only babysitting you for the first shift. Julia’s coming tomorrow.”
Nick lifted a brow at that. He hadn’t spent any time with Dane’s supposedly fiery wife; he didn’t know her at all. “Why her?”
“She volunteered.” Pierce didn’t let go of Nick as he pressed the button for the elevator. “She takes no crap, so she’s a perfect pick. You’re a little grouchy.”
Nick grunted. His head hurt too much to argue, and his back was sore. They stepped into the elevator and he leaned against the wall.
“In all seriousness,” Pierce said, his voice more somber than usual, “you did a great thing. We’re all so damn grateful, Nick. You know that, right?”
“I do.” He shifted so his bad hip wasn’t against the wall. “It was my honor, and I just hope to God that it works. I care about that kid. You know that, right?”
“We all do.” Pierce looked him over. “I’m sorry you’re uncomfortable.”
“Yesterday was worse. That was a nine; this is like a six. I’m okay.”
“You’re so full of shit. You look like hell and you’re in pain, tough guy.”
Nick laughed hoarsely. “My headache’s the worst of it, to be honest. Worse than my back and hip. That just feels like I got bruised, you know? But it feels like my brain is playing conga drums and trying to escape my head at the same time, and it’s messing me up.”
“Doctor said that was normal, unfortunately.”
“Yeah, I know. Apparently, anesthesia and I don’t get along.”
The doors slid open and Pierce immediately went to Nick, helping him down the hall. He got him to his room, through the suite, and into the bedroom. As Nick collapsed gingerly onto the bed, Pierce glanced at his watch. “This is good. The nurse Charles hired for you should be here soon.”
“Wonderful,” Nick grunted.
Pierce chuckled. “I have a feeling you’re a terrible patient.”
“I don’t like being hovered over,” Nick said.
“I get that. But when you need help, you should admit it. And you do right now. So take it.”
Nick grunted again.
“I’m going to run back downstairs,” Pierce said as he watched Nick kick off his shoes, “to get your bag from the car. Then I’ll come back and hang with you ’til the nurse comes.”
Nick watched him leave, then slid out of his clothes down to his briefs. He left them in a pile on the floor and climbed into bed. Fuck, his head . . . all he wanted was to lie still.
When Pierce got back, he asked if Nick needed anything. “Bottle of water or Gatorade on the nightstand,” Nick said quietly. “And if you could pull those blackout curtains, I’ll be your best friend for life. That’s it.”
Pierce did as he’d been asked before leaving Nick to go sit in the front room of the suite. Nick was just starting to fall asleep when he heard voices from out there. Pierce was talking to a woman. Probably the nurse. Nick didn’t care; he just wanted to be left alone. He lay motionless, his eyes closed, trying not to worry about Myles or think about Amanda or his mom or anything that would make his brain do actual work.
He heard the door open, then close. A few moments later, a cool hand gently touched his forehead, then his ears. The woman’s soft hand felt like heaven.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” Pierce’s voice, a little concerned, on his right.
“Of course he will,” said the voice on his left. “No temperature, so that’s good.”
What the fuck? He knew that voice. With a jolt, his eyes snapped open. Amanda was there, standing over him, a little crease between her brows as those sky-blue eyes studied him.
“Hi,” she said.
“You’re my nurse?” Nick growled.
“Charles asked me,” she said.
“She’s not working with Myles right now,” Pierce said, “so it makes sense.”
“I don’t want you to—” Nick started to say, then stopped himself. A few more words and he’d out them to Pierce. Damn it all to hell.
She pressed a fingertip to his pulse, which he felt hammering away. “Shhhh.”
Nick’s insides bubbled with anger that didn’t make sense, and he knew it.
“Nick, look,” Pierce said, blissfully clueless, “Amanda is a great nurse. She’s been amazing with Myles. I know you’re cranky, but just let her do her job, okay?”
Nick swallowed down everything and let his eyes slide closed. “You win for now. Headache’s real bad—I don’t have it in me to fight.”
“Should we be worried about that headache?” Pierce asked Amanda.
“The headache’s a normal side effect of the anesthesia,” Amanda said, sounding cool and assured. “Also one of the drugs they used during surgery. I’m watching him—don’t worry. Charles wants me here until eleven tonight, and I will be. So you can go if you want.”
Pierce touched Nick’s arm lightly. “You’re in good hands, so I’m going to take off. You just want to sleep anyway, I’m sure.”
Nick opened his eyes and nodded. “Yeah. But do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Keep me posted on Myles?”
“You got it, no problem. I’ll text you or call you.” Pierce gave Nick’s arm a little squeeze. “Feel better, man. Julia will come by tomorrow. She’s the morning shift, Amanda’s the afternoon and evening.”
Nick just sighed.
“Don’t abuse your nurse,” Pierce mock warned. “I like this nurse a lot, so give her a break, all right?”
Nick harrumphed but said, “Thanks for getting me back here. For everything today. Appreciate it, man.”
“Glad I could help. Rest up. Talk to you soon.” Pierce said his good-bye to Amanda, then left.
As soon as Nick heard the door close, he looked at Amanda. “I thought I told you—”
“You knew Charles was hiring a nurse. Well, he asked me to do this,” she said evenly. “As a personal favor to him. I won’t be needed at the mansion for a few weeks, maybe more. I’ve been hired; he’s paying me. You don’t like it, take it up with him. I answer to him, not to you.”
Nick wanted to growl, he was so mad. “You knew I didn’t want you here.”
She stilled, and he saw her eyes flare. Fuck, that was mean. He was being downright mean. That wasn’t fair to her.
But before he could say another word, she snapped, “Sorry. You’re stuck with me for tonight.” She moved to the nightstand and opened the bottle of water.
As she poured some into a plastic cup, he watched her. Did she have to look so damn pretty? Half of him hated that she was there. The other half was so glad to see her, it bordered on ridiculous. They’d exchanged texts before he’d gone into the hospital on Wednesday morning, but he hadn’t seen her since Sunday night. Seeing her now made him acutely aware that he’d missed her. Her silky hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her baby blue T-shirt brought out her eyes, and her gray checked leggings showcased her legs, making him recall how fantastic they’d felt locked around his hips.
He’d missed her. Her presence was a balm even when he was furious.
“You’re not in scrubs,” he managed, every word making his head thump. “Thought you’re on duty.”
“I am, but I figured I could dress casual for this one. You gonna report me?”
“Hell no.”
She brought the cup over. “Drink some,” she commanded as she stood over him.
“Amanda,” he said, leaning up slowly on his elbows. “I’m sorry for being rude.”
She just pushed the cup at him.
He took a few sips, then fell back onto the pillows. “Listen. I know you’re a good nurse. I just . . . dammit, Amanda, I didn’t want you to do this. Anyone but you.”
She stiffened as she gazed down at him. “Well, then you’re shit outta luck, aren’t you.” A quick twist of a grin that didn’t reach her eyes, sharp and hollow, made him wince.
He was messing this up royally. If only his brain would stop trying to pound its way out of his skull . . . He reached out and grasped her hand, holding tight. “I just . . . ah, fuck!” He closed his eyes for a second against the fresh wave of pain in his head that brought some nausea along for the ride. He swallowed hard. “Nauseous,” he muttered.
“I’ll get the bowl so you don’t have to get up.” She pulled her hand free and left.
For about an hour, he lay as still as possible, trying not to vomit. She went to sit in the front room, leaving him in peace so he didn’t have to get madder at the idea of possibly puking in front of her, which he appreciated. He was miserable; that was for damn sure. But that didn’t give him the right to be such an asshole to her, and he stewed over it as he lay in the dark room. He tried to not think at all, just breathe.
After a while, the door opened, bringing cracks of light into his dim cave. Amanda approached the bed. “Bowl’s empty. That’s good.” She laid her hand against his forehead. “You’re a drop warm. I’m sorry, Nick, but I’m staying right here to keep an eye on you whether you like it or not. You spike a fever, that’s a different set of problems.”
“All right,” he murmured.
“How do you feel?”
“Like total shit.”
She only nodded as her eyes scoured his face.
“Go ahead,” he said.
Her brows furrowed. “Go ahead what?”
“Say ‘I told you so’,” he said. “You must be dying to. You warned me I’d need help after the surgery. I brushed you off. All of you.”
“Your discomfort doesn’t bring me pleasure,” she said, a hard edge to her voice.
“Not even now, when I’ve been such a dick since you got here?”
“Not even now.”
“Amanda . . .” He swallowed his pride and said gruffly, “I didn’t want you to see me this way. I didn’t want anyone to see me this way, but especially you. I didn’t want you to see me all weak and needy. Gross, pukey, and laid out. Didn’t want to . . . diminish myself in your eyes. Can you understand that?”
She stared at him and murmured, “I do now. I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“I’m sorry I’m a lousy patient and will probably be insufferable the next day or two,” he said. “Apparently pain, feeling powerless, and being hovered over make me a little mean.” He sighed as his head pounded away. “I didn’t want to look weak to you. My ego and pride can’t stand it. There, I said it.” He licked his dry lips as he met her eyes. “I also didn’t want to maybe be a dick to you and say or do something I couldn’t take back. You mean too much to me. Okay?”
She sat on the edge of the bed, next to him, her hip barely touching his good side. “You could’ve just told me all that the other day. Why didn’t you?”
“You didn’t exactly give me a chance to.”
She pressed her lips together into a hard line. “Maybe not.”
“I also didn’t say so because I’m not proud of it, Amanda. Because I’m too proud, I guess.”
“I am too. I felt slighted.”
“I know. And I’m really sorry for that. Can you forgive me?”
She gazed down at him for a long moment, then murmured, “Forgiven. But you need to work on your communication skills.”
“We both do. You shut me out and wouldn’t admit to it.”
“I was hurt,” she admitted in a whisper. “When I’m hurt, I . . . go inside myself. Like a turtle. I turtle up.”
“I’ll make sure to remember that in the future.” He reached for her hand, and she let him take it as their eyes met and held. “I really am sorry. I just . . .” His head pulsated, his hip throbbed, and his eyes squeezed shut as he drew a deep breath.
“Shhh.” She held his hand in both of hers and caressed it gently. It was so damn soothing; he bathed in her small but tender touch. “I know you’re really hurting right now, but it’ll be better tomorrow, and then even better the next day. Promise.”
“Okay,” he ground out. “This sucks. Can’t lie.”
“I know.” She kept caressing his hand. He held tight. She felt like a lifeline. It occurred to him she’d felt like one since he’d met her. Emotionally, physically. As a friend, as a sexy bed partner. In a short time, she’d come to mean a lot to him, dragging him out of emotional holes . . . a true lifeline. They sat in the dark, holding hands in comfortable silence, and damned if it didn’t make him feel a little better. Soothed.
Finally he said, “My head hurts like fucking hell, Amanda. It really does. The hip’s not as bad, but it’s sore as hell too and . . . I’m not good company. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Shhh.” She kept stroking the top of his hand, his fingers. He focused on her touch, trying to concentrate on that instead of how awful he felt. Then she added, “I’m not expecting you to be good company. It’d be nice if you’re not a dick, but if you are, I can take it. It’s part of my job, and I’m good at my job, Nick.”
“I know you are. I do, baby.”
“All right. So just let me take care of you, okay?”
“Okay.” His eyes slid closed. “Thank you.” He felt her lean in, felt her lips press ever so lightly against his cheek. His other hand lifted to stroke the back of her neck and hold her there. They stayed that way for a minute, a kind of half hug. His fingers twisted into her ponytail as he breathed her in. “You smell good,” he whispered.
“Flirting with your nurse?” she joked. “Jeez, you’re so the type.”
He laughed, but it made his head hurt and it turned into a groan as he finally fell asleep.