CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Bocca
I was in and out of consciousness for…I had no idea how long. Every time I would emerge from the depths of my nightmares, I tried to reach for reality and hold on tight. But I never felt like I was able to quite break to the surface before I went back under.
How I desperately wanted to get away from the horrible things that replayed behind my closed lids. The worst kind of home movie. Yeah, that was what it was. This had become part of my life and though I never asked for it, it was what I got. No, I was not handling it well at all. Clearly, my subconscious wasn’t either. I realized that this was my brain’s way of working things out. Of trying to process and categorize. It was something that I really had no control over. Same as how I also knew that I wouldn’t look at certain things as normal again. One wrong move and suddenly my whole future had shifted.
Would I ever be able to hear a drill start up and not flinch? Huh? These were things that other people wouldn’t think of until they were confronted with that very noise. But I knew enough to know how things would go from here on out. I knew how the brain would shift things and change my body’s reactions to things that once seemed like everyday occurrences. Everyday sounds. Everyday images. Everyday smells. Everything would become a trigger. And even though I knew that, I had no idea how to fight against it.
Things as simple as a light being flicked on. It would hold something more to me now. It would remind me of my time in the basement and the ways they had tried to get to me. How long would that last? Again, that was something I couldn’t answer. It was different for every person. Perhaps that was maybe the thing that got me the most, that I knew these things would be in my everyday future and I wouldn’t be able to stop my reaction to them.
It did me no good to overgeneralize and anticipate how I’d handle them when they came along. Sitting there thinking of what could turn out to be a trigger and how it would affect me would only end up making me want to cower at every little thing.
Somewhere in between the flickering memories of the past days, a voice was calling to me. I knew the voice, but I was sure the words that were spoken weren’t really being said out loud to me. My mind was continuing to play tricks on me. Or, perhaps, it was trying to tell me something. Whatever was going on, I was too confused to try and sort through any of it.
But Rosemarie.
I couldn’t even deny that there was something about the cute nurse. Something more than just the urge to fuck her, though that was there. Not that I’d be fucking anyone anytime soon. Honestly, the thought of sex right now made me want to vomit. The thing I really wanted the most was a touch. Simple. Soft. Comforting.
Oh, wait. There it was, a touch, on my arm. If I could have just opened my eyes then I’d get to really enjoy it.
“Did you just sigh?” her sweet voice cut through the flickering darkness of my mind.
Had I sighed?
Yeah, I could believe that. There was something about her cool, soft fingers brushing the hair off my forehead and then lingering through the long strands that made my body relax. Made me feel warm inside. And had my heart tripping over itself to keep up some sort of even rhythm. It was that simple touch that gave me all the comfort I needed right now.
“No,” I said keeping my eyes closed. “It had to have been some sort of weird snore. You must have interpreted it all wrong.”
I was rewarded with a fast, sharp laugh that sounded like magic to my ears. I smiled, well, I think I did. I felt my dry, cracked lips stretch against the discomfort of their current state.
Her hand stopped stroking me and though my eyes were closed, I could feel her stare boring down at me.
“Please don’t stop,” I whispered. I sounded pathetic, needy, and maybe a bit desperate. And even if I wouldn’t admit it out loud, I was all of those things right now.
There was a slight hesitation as her fingers lingered above my skin, so close that I could still feel the coolness coming off of them. Then they were there, softly sliding over my forehead, over my temple, drifting down my cheek, then running over the scruff that covered my jaw. If my eyes hadn’t already been closed I knew her touch would have caused them to do so. I didn’t want her to stop, and as if she sensed that, she moved her hand back up to my forehead and started all over again.
I moaned and I didn’t even care that I had. I felt like a damn cat, purring from all the love and attention. I felt starved for her touch and it was almost not enough.
I cleared my throat before I spoke again.
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen?” I asked because I knew being a nurse, especially in the ER, she probably saw some shit.
She let out another one of those short, light, airy laughs.
“You,” she said and though I couldn’t see it, I sensed that she shook her head.
“Oh, come on. I’m not that bad,” I joked.
“Well, even with all of these cuts and bruises, I suppose you are still handsome looking. At least you have that going for you.”
To that my eye cracked open and I looked at her with a brow raised.
“Are you hitting on me, nurse Rosemarie?”
“Oh gosh, no,” she said with mock dramatics. “That would be…unethical. Just paying you a tiny complement. You know, for when you get out of here. I’m merely letting you know that I’m sure you will have no problem attracting the ladies despite everything.”
“Admit it, you think this makes me look more manly. All the helplessness is really working for you, isn’t it?” I joked and tried my best to smile.
She softly shook her head at me, but it didn’t distract from the beautiful smile that graced her own lips.
My eyes opened fully and I couldn’t help but to stare up at her. For a long beat, she seemed just as lost in the moment as me. Some strange thing tugged at the air between us and I couldn’t seem to turn away. Not that I wanted to.
I hadn’t had many interactions with Rosemarie, but I felt like I’d learned so much already. Not only was she beautiful, but she was caring and bright too. She was funny, though not as funny as me. But she also was smart enough to see through my shit. Which might have been the thing I liked the most. While she wasn’t turned off by my overly charming self, she wasn’t melting at it either. No, it was almost like it amused her. And that made me fucking smile. It wasn’t every day that I met a woman that could easily dismiss me and at the same time want to keep me going.
I could see that she was thinking back to my question. There were obviously things that she was thinking of but she wasn’t going to go down that road. I couldn’t imagine being a nurse was easy. People always taking you for granted. Patients that thought little of you because you weren’t a doctor. Doctors treating you like shit because they thought they were better than you. What most people didn’t realize was that the nurse was the heart of the operation. Without them, you’d just be sitting there in an uncomfortable bed with a diagnosis and no one to ease your pain.
“There was this guy that came in once,” she started and I could tell that she was trying her hardest to hold back her laughter. I had a feeling she wasn’t going to give me some story that would end up sad or overly gruesome. And I was thankful for that right now.
Then suddenly it hit me. This woman sitting here with me, caring for a fucked up stranger when she should have been enjoying her off time, was maybe the most amazing person I’d ever known. I realized that I would listen to her tell me anything, I didn’t care how bad it was. And suddenly, I got a wave of emotions washing through my veins. I could almost see it, possibly because I really wanted to make it reality. I wanted to be there for her. To help her unload those burdens that she built up each day. I wanted to be that person that she could come home to and fall back against. And I wanted her to know that I’d always catch her.
Okay, that was really weird. I tried to shake it off and blamed it on the fact that my head was a mess. That the pain that was throbbing and slicing through my body at the moment was making me insane and perhaps even a bit delusional.
“He was drunk, well, him and his buddies. So, very drunk that I couldn’t even understand them when they talked. Real southern guys, too. So that thick accent only made things worse.”
She paused and looked at me pointedly as if to say you know what I’m talking about. And I did. A ghost of a smile tugged at my lips as I gave her a knowing nod.
“Well, they thought it would be a great idea—after consuming a crap-load of alcohol, mind you—to play with a nail gun.”
I cringed. I didn’t want to know where this story was going and I tried my best not to think about the things that had been done to me. As if she could sense something was wrong, she moved the story along quickly.
“One of his buddies thought it would be funny to nail this guy’s balls to the chair. It was awful. They had to bring the chair in and all.”
“That is…horrible,” I said and I knew I couldn’t hold back the grimace. My hands itched to protectively cover my own junk from the thought.
“The guy didn’t even feel it. He kept asking ‘how come I’m here?’ and I kept having to point down and tell him why.”
That made me laugh.
“I bet that went something like, ‘Sir, you have nails in your testicles.’ Am I right?” I asked.
She laughed, this time her head tilting back as the sound jumped from her throat.
“Yes, actually, very much like that.”
“So what happened?”
“Oh, well, he left the hospital with fifty percent fewer balls,” she said then bit her lip like she was trying not to laugh again. “His wife came to pick them all up and I’m pretty sure I heard her tell him that she was going to leave him for someone that had a ‘full sac’ and she sounded like she really meant it.”
She actually brought her fingers up and did air quotes and all. It was absolutely adorable. Not the story, her.
I was having so much fun laying there just listening to her talk. I didn’t want to face reality, but I knew I couldn’t put it off for much longer. I knew there were people out there that were worried about me. I had been a shitty brother. I should have reached out right away but I was also terrified that somehow I’d lead them back to the club. But if I really thought about it I wouldn’t be leading them anywhere that they couldn’t find for themselves since they already seemed to know who I was.
That shit still bugged me. How? There had to be something that I was missing.
Vac.
The name that the green dress woman had said to me. I kept trying to place it but there were no bells going off in my head. I knew some of the major players around but none of them matched up.
My head was starting to hurt again. My lids dropped and I felt useless against the sleep pulling me under.
“Rest, Bocca,” I heard Rosemarie whisper before I gave up the fight.
I had meant to say something. I had meant to ask for a phone so I could call Cal or Loch. Hell, anyone at this point. Even send a quick text. Just something to let them know that I was alive and they shouldn’t go looking for me. That I’d check in when I was more sure that it was safe.
I was still weak. And I had noticed the longer I had been awake, the more of a struggle it was becoming to fight and ignore the pain.
I hated it and I never wanted to feel this useless again.
Even in my sleep, I could feel her fingers caressing me and for some wonderful reason, it kept the nightmares at bay.