20.

Livvy

 

Well, at least his color looks better. Poor Blue stays asleep, even with me holding his hand, tracing my thumb along the line of his finger. His skin feels different than Gage’s skin. Not quite as soft. But he saved my life, took not just a bullet, but several bullets for me. And then there’s the head injury.

I use my other hand to brush his bangs off his forehead. He looks so young lying hooked up to all those monitors, younger than his twenty-two years. The low beeping becomes almost hypnotic as background noise. At least he’s breathing on his own. The brothers’ insurance, because they bought the good stuff, pays for a single room. Even if it didn’t, they’d chip in the rest so that Blue doesn’t end up even sicker with some gross MRSA infection.

The guy in the room next door sounds like he might be hacking up a lung over there. That disgustingly loud phlegmy cough. I wonder if a solid wall between us is enough protection. Hospitals make me uncomfortable for so many reasons.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hack. Hack. Hack.

God, it’s like “Dueling Banjos” hospital edition up in here. I wish Gage was with me to pass the time, but I sent him off to hang with Boss because I know how much he hates to sit unless he’s at home with me and we’re snuggled watching a movie or something. But that’s completely different.

It’s hard to believe that the Houdini ordeal is over. Looking down at Blue, that’s one more thing he gave me by pushing me out of the way, by taking those bullets and that hit to the head, he opened the field and allowed the Lords to take Houdini out.

I’m free.

Elise is free.

Caitlin. Trisha. Even though they never slept with Logan Hollister, he wouldn’t have stopped with me and Elise. The man was crazy. The absolute hatred he felt for the Lords. No, he’d never have stopped.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

If he’d only open his eyes for me, that’d be good. I know he’s sleeping, not in a coma. Pain meds on top of the head injury knocked him out. Gage told me this morning about Smitty. That’s another hospital visit before we head home to Thornbriar.

But— Stop, Liv. He’s alive. That’s what counts. He’s still alive. I swipe at the tears with the back of my hand. Apparently, I shouldn’t be alone with my thoughts today.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Okay, emotions in check, I pull the phone from my pocket because hearing Gage’s voice right now would help. There’s a missed call notification. I put it to my ear and press play for the voicemail. It’s the secretary for the therapist I’m supposed to start seeing as soon as we get back to Thornbriar. The therapist works out of Milton, the next town over. She’s a friend of Caity. Caity called in a favor to get me in right away.

They’re all afraid I’ll break again. Even promising I wouldn’t, the consensus is that my “compartmentalizing the trauma I’ve experienced is actually repressing the trauma,” which is just a fancy way of saying they think I’ll break again.

To give Gage peace of mind, I’ll go and I’ll do it happily. What could it hurt, right? Houdini won’t control any more of my life.

Gage hasn’t gotten back a hold of me to tell me if he’s found me good coffee yet or not so because as much as I want to be here for Blue, staring at a sleeping biker does nothing to help with my melancholy thoughts. So yeah, maybe seeing that therapist is a good idea after all.    

I stand and stretch, patting Blue’s foot before I go. It twitches under the weight of my hand, but he stays sound asleep, hopefully dreaming of beautiful biker bitches as I make my way into the dimly lit hallway. Dimly lit for the head injury patients.

There’s a coffee pot in the waiting room down by the nurses’ station to the right, but there’s a restroom to the left. I opt for the restroom first because drinks in a restroom—ew. Outside Blue’s room, the hallway stays quiet. All those medical shows on television would have us believe that hospital hallways are busier than Grand Central Terminal.

It’s actually a bit too quiet. I almost miss the beeping. And now I sound like a whiny nut job. Passing door after door, I try to get a glimpse of the other patients as I walk by. What can I say, I’m nosy. At the end of the hallway I take a left and find the bathroom. It’s an odd placement, off in its own little restroom world. If not for the signs, no one would know they existed down here, as there are no more rooms and you can’t see the doors from the hallway with the rooms.

Inside, the light flickers on overhead when I enter. One of those movement sensors. There are two stalls. I take the one closest to the door because studies show those are the cleanest stalls. I hear the main door open and someone shuffle in, then take the stall next to mine while I finish my business and go to wash my hands.

I have two fists full of foam when the second stall opens and like most people do, I look over my shoulder to see my stall neighbor. And I blink. Then I blink again. My mouth hangs open, even though no words escape. There are no words because forming words takes air and the air in my lungs left in a whoosh. I think I might faint.

Heart palpitations. Brow sweats. The signs are there. Fainting imminent.

“Wha—how?”

“Miss me?” he asks, exactly as he had the first time we found ourselves alone together since Chicago. “Because I missed you, Livvy. It wasn’t nice of you to leave before our game ended.”

“N-No. No. You’re supposed to be dead. I saw you drop. They killed you.”

“Why do you think they call me Houdini?” He takes an ominous step closer, and I’m not sure how he managed past the nurses or assistants in the hallway, covered in dried blood and smelling of dirt and char. Leering. Licking his cracked lips. I’d retreat, but there’s nowhere left to retreat to. The sink juts into my hip as it is. Paper towel dispenser into my back.

“Please, leave me alone. It’s over, Logan.”

“Logan’s dead,” he hisses. “And it won’t be over ’til you are. This is all your fault. I planned meticulously. There was an order. All the other girls cooperated. You were supposed to die, and then I’d have Elise.”

He steps closer. I put my hand up in a feeble attempt to stop his progression, as if my will would be enough, because my strength sure won’t be.

“You couldn’t die like the others, could you, bitch? And I lost my in. Oh, I waited and watched. Waited and watched. Nothing for months. Then you take off in the middle of the night. The new plan had sucked, but this. You handed me you on a fuckin’ plate. Stupid, stupid woman takin’ off.”

He lunges and I stumble back, my head hitting the wall. His hands go around my neck and he begins to squeeze.

“I knew when I got you…” Fingers dig into the skin at my throat. I can’t catch a breath. “Everything would fall into place.”

My lungs burn from lack of oxygen. My head feels cloudy.

“Elise is here. And she’s mine.” His fingers give one last painful squeeze. Gold spots pop in front of my eyes, then darken to black.

“My name’s Livvy, what’s yours?”

“Gage…”

“I love you, Liv. I’m in love with you…”

“You don’t call me Chaos, to you I’m Gage…”

“I’ve wanted to marry you my entire fucking life…”

My eyes begin to droop and there’s no way for me to open them again.

“Gage,” I whisper his name in my head. My last goodbye.

“No.” A voice screams and I don’t know if it’s real or in my head, too. Then Houdini’s hands are torn from my neck. His large body hits the wall across the tiny space. “Breathe, Liv.” Tender touches brush down my cheek. “Breathe, baby.”

And I remember my airway no longer has fingers digging in, constricting. I suck in a ragged, painful breath, filling my lungs to max capacity. The double vision begins to clear. There’s a thud, and two men begin to roll around on the tiled floor throwing punches.

I blink.

Gage. My Gage. He’s come for me. Somehow he knew to come for me. He has his hands fisting Houdini’s ears, lifting the maniac’s head and smacking it against the tile, cracking it at the point of impact.

Houdini manages a heavy punch to Gage’s chest. The punch stuns Gage and might have knocked the wind out of him. I don’t know what to do—what am I supposed to do?

Back and forth. Back and forth. The men trade punches. Blood and spittle flying everywhere. I don’t know who’s winning.

“How did you get away?” Gage swings. The punch connects with Houdini’s ribs.

“So fuckin’ stupid.” Houdini spits out blood as he swings his return aimed at Gage’s jaw. Gage leans far enough to avoid the blow, but it lets Houdini regain his balance enough to swing again. “Superficial wounds and playing possum. If you’d have actually checked for a pulse, you punk-ass bitch…” This punch hits Gage’s shoulder.

Gage swings wide and backhands Houdini.

“You’d have put a bullet in my brain,” he finishes, and I see him pull something from his cut. It glints in the light. “Now I’m gonna put one in yours.”

“Gage,” I shriek his name, though it comes out hoarse and gritty. I sputter a cough. My man knocks the gun as it discharges, puncturing the hollow metal stall door to crack the wall tile above the toilet. It happens fast, but I see it when the door swings open.

The men wrestle for the gun. Each vying to turn it on the other. Both of Gage’s hands have Houdini’s wrist and he’s banging it against the wall. Houdini’s grip slips and the gun drops to the floor.

I blink.

The men continue to fight.

The gun.

On the floor.

I blink again to shake off the fuzz. Then I throw myself over to the gun and pick it up. I know how to shoot. One of the few beneficial lessons I learned growing up in the club. My head feels fuzzy again. It’s now or never.

“Gage,” I croak out again. “Move.”

And then the tiny room fills with deafening pops. Pop, pop. Pop, pop, pop. Then someone wrestles to get the gun from my hand. I fight to keep hold.

“No,” I’d scream if I had any voice left. For now it’s just me frantically mouthing the word.

“Liv, baby.” Gage. His voice comes softer. “Give me the gun. It’s over. This time it’s really over.”

I blink and my vision clears. The room now smells of organs, blood and death mixed with his dirt and char. Holes in his head and chest. I see his brains. Brains. It’s too much. I try to hold back the vomit enough to make it to the toilet but only get two steps before I erupt like a puke volcano all over the floor.

My whole body begins to shake violently. Shouts fill the space as bodies storm in.

I blink.

And then…