CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Freeze
I groan as I swim through the layers of unconsciousness. My eyelids feel weighted as I force them to open. I go to sit up and instantly regret it as dizziness hits. I raise my arms and rub my eyes as I struggle to acclimate to my surroundings. The events of yesterday slam back into me. I run my hand down my body and pat the top of my legs. Jesus Christ. I can’t feel that. Rage explodes, and I cry out.
“J.”
B stumbles to my bed, half asleep as she leans over the railing. “Hey, you’re okay.”
“Okay? I can’t feel my fucking legs.”
“I know. I know. There’s so much swelling and heavy meds.”
“Is this permanent?”
“We don’t know,” she whispers.
I clench my fists. “You don’t know.”
“There are too many different factors to consider, giving you a diagnosis would be premature—”
“When?”
“When what?”
“Will we know?”
“It could be anywhere from six months to a year from now.”
“Did the doctor tell you that?” I ask.
“He did, but I also know it to be true.”
I nod my head. I trust her to be straight with me. “Tell me the chances of me walking again, in your opinion.”
“It’s too soon to tell—”
“Best and worst case, B,” I snap.
“Partial injury, it looks pretty good. I mean … the odds of you being exactly like you were … slim, but you could regain so many of your abilities.”
“Worst.”
“Complete injury … you’re going to be in a chair.”
I flinch.
“But you have something most people don’t.”
“Oh yeah. What’s that? Shitty luck?”
“No, a licensed physical therapist who works at a center that specializes in spinal cord injuries.”
“Which means you understand how screwed I am. No, we are. Were.” I give a harsh laugh. “It’s a good thing we never got to that tattoo.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at me, Blanche. What good am I to you, huh? How can I protect or provide for you? You know if I can’t ride, I can’t be a patched member, right? Everything I’ve built up over the past ten years is gone. What do you want to stick around for? To support me with your money? Wipe my ass for me and watch me turn into a shadow of my former self. I refuse to let you do that.”
“Stop this.” Her voice shakes.
I refuse to look at her. “No. This is reality.”
“You love me, and I love you—”
“And when has that ever been enough for anyone. You know better than most.”
She gasps.
I’ve struck the chord I was aiming for. I’m a master at breaking people down, mentally and physically. “You should bail, ’cause the ship is sinking. Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out,” I bark.
“I’m not.”
“Get out. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you.” I turn to her, and she stumbles away. The broken expression on her face and the trail of tears are a punch to my gut as she backs out of the room. I grip the rails of my bed and bow my head as I fight back the tears burning my eyes.
“I see you’re awake, Mr. Ryan.”
Looking up, I see the doctor I vaguely remember speaking to me.
“Doctor …”
“Simmons. I imagine you woke up and realized you couldn’t feel your legs. Knowing your fiancée is a physical therapist, I assume she gave you the run down. Let me give you some advice. The thing you’re going to need most is support. So maybe running off the person who’s been by your side since the accident isn’t the smartest first move. You’ve got every right to be angry. But taking it out on the woman who clearly loves you? She knows exactly what you’re going to need. Her knowledge and experience are invaluable.”
“I’m not going to let her ruin her life.”
“Shouldn’t you let her decide that? She knows exactly what she’d be in for, and if she couldn’t handle it, she probably wouldn’t have made it her career.”
“Are you my doctor or my shrink?”
“A bit of both. Healing and moving forward with this type of injury is sixty percent mental and forty percent physical. You have to want to get better, whatever that means for you.”
“Whatever that means for me? That’s your nice way of saying no guarantees you won’t be a waste of space for the rest of your life. But we can help you be the best loser you can be.”
Doc shakes his head. “No, you said that. I know you need time to adjust. That’s normal, so is the anger. But pushing people away is only going to hurt you and your healing process. We’ve gone in and repaired the broken bones in your legs and hips. The SUV did a number on you.”
“Did someone get the bitch that did this?” I ask, thirsty for her blood.
“Yes, I believe she’s under police watch at a different hospital. I believe she was in an accident as she tried to leave the scene.”
“For once karma was swift,” I mutter. “So what’s the plan, Doc?”
“Right now, we’re focused on allowing your body to heal and monitoring you for anything like blood clots, complications from surgery, or anything we may have missed due to the swelling around your body, especially your spinal cord.”
“So it’s a waiting game?”
“Yes. After a couple more days, we’ll lower your medicine dosage and do some more tests.”
“To see if I can feel?” I whisper.
“Among other things, yes.”
“Is it true what she said about the odds depending on if it’s partial or complete?”
“The chances of recovery are far greater with partial, but a complete isn’t a death sentence.”
“No, just a chair sentence.”
“Usually. Miracles have occurred, but I will never give you what I believe to be false hope. It would do more harm than good in the long run.”
“So we wait?”
“Yes, but I highly suggest you familiarize yourself with the recent updates in technology for those with paraplegia. This is no longer the dark ages. You can drive a modified car, or join basketball leagues if you want. You’ll be able to take care of yourself with the right adaptations to your home, and enough training. I’m in the business of life here, Mr. Ryan, and from the looks of it, you have plenty to live for. I’m going to check your vitals, and the nurse will be in shortly after to administer your medicine after you’ve had breakfast.”
An uneasy silence falls between us. I don’t need to know he disapproves of my behavior so far. What else is new? Another person disappointed in me.
***
I push around the unnatural eggs I know have to be powdered on my plate and nibble at the turkey bacon. I get wanting to be healthy, but fake bacon is just mean. I glance down at my foot and will my toe to wiggle. Disgusted when it doesn’t, I return to half ass eating my food. The door opens, and B walks into the room on four-inch heeled black sandals, tiny black shorts, a crop top that shows off her belly, and a fierce expression that would have me hard if I was able to get that way. She places her hands on her hips, every inch the bad ass biker bitch I knew she could be. My spoon drops from my suddenly clumsy fingers.
She stalks toward me, a lioness about to command the pride.
“You don’t get to send me away and dismiss me, Jagger Reese Ryan. When you claimed me, you made me your own, and in turn that makes you mine.”
Yes, ma’am. I’ve never seen her this aggressive or sure before. It’s hot. I shake my head to clear the spell she’s cast.
“I am your family.”
I shake my head. “Last I checked, you don’t have my mark.”
“Last I checked, Stone recognized me as your Old Lady, which was more important than the ink.”
“What?”
“He told me last night I belong to Chaos, too, and they look out for their own.”
Meddling motherfucker.
“It wasn’t his place to do that.”
“You take it up with him if you like, but I don’t think he can undo it since he’s announced it to everyone, and the hospital understands I’m your fiancée, point of contact, and interpreter of all medical jargon for the club.”
“Bitch.”
“Your bitch. You taught me how to be strong, take care of my shit, and go for what I want. I’m the monster you made me, baby. We’re two halves of the same coin, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Fuck you, Blanche.” The words explode from me before I can think to bite my tongue.
“Oh, you will. I’ll make sure of that.” She moves to the side of my bed and narrows her eyes. “There are so many ways to arouse, tease, and torment.” She skims her nails down my arm.
I shiver.
“I know you’re hurting. I’m not making light of that in any way, but I’m not letting you give up. You have to believe you can have a good life, or you won’t make it, and that …” her voice distorts, and she shakes her head, “that I can’t have.”
“Don’t I get a say in how I live, B? I don’t want to live if this is my life. I can’t ride.”
She presses her pointer finger across my lips. “You don’t know what you can or can’t do. All I ask is a year. One year and we’ll reevaluate everything. If you still want me to leave then, I won’t fight you.”
I look away. “You know it’ll take at least that long to know how this injury is going to play out. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“What do you think I see?”
“A soft, weak, useless half man.”
“I see the same thing I always see, the love of my life.”
I turn to her and search her gaze. She means every word. “I can’t promise to be nice, B. I got a lot of anger right now.”
“At me?” Her head drops. “I know. This is my fault.”
“Hey!” I bark and grab her chin. “No. I’d do this all over again if it meant you remained safe. That’s my job.”
“So why isn’t helping you recover mine?”
I open and close my mouth. She’s got me there.
“It’s literally my job, J. But you have to let me be there. I can take what you dish out.”
“What if I can’t?” I ask quietly.
“Can’t what?”
“Ever walk again?”
“First rule: we’re taking things one day at a time.”
“One day at a time. I can do that,” I say as the ball in my gut slowly lessens.
“Good. ’Cause that’s the way life happens.”
“Dude … are you head shrinking me?” I ask, thinking of the way I’d fed her the same lines during a panic attack.
“Am I using the coping skills given to me by Dr. Adams? Yes, I am.”
“You’re something, you know that?”
A knock comes at the door. “Are you all finished with breakfast, Mr. Ryan?” The tall brunette with brown eyes walks in and smiles. “I see you have a visitor.”
“Yeah. This is my Old Lady, Blanche. Blanche, this is Ronnie, my nurse for the morning.”
The brat just got what she wanted, but when have I ever denied her anything? We have one year to figure this out. Her words pulled me back from the edge. I’m still looking down into the face of oblivion, but I’m no longer alone or without hope.
***
“Look who’s awake.”
Glancing up, I see Stone in the doorway.
“I’m going to head home, shower, and make come calls.” B kisses my lips and squeezes Stone’s arm on the way out.
“Come on in, man,” I say.
“How you … uh, feeling?”
“Like I got ran over by a car.”
“Shit, man. I don’t know if I should laugh or say sorry.”
I shake my head. “Is this where you give me my walking papers? I know the rules as well as any other brother.”
“Come on, man. You know I wouldn’t do that. You’re hurt. Me and the brothers took a vote. If you don’t get your land legs back, you can take over for Swifty as Treasurer. You’re good with money, and he’s looking to retire. It’s a good trade if you’re willing.”
“Are you serious, Prez?” I ask, floored.
“We take care of our own. You’ve done shit that’s kept us all safe at one time or another. We owe you this much at least.”
The security of my place among the only family I’d ever known lifts a huge weight off my shoulders.
“Would you be interested in it?”
“Yeah, man. I … thank you.”
He clamps his hand on my shoulder. “Your Old Lady is impressive. She’s been by your side this whole time. We both know most would’ve run for the door. I know most people doubted her. She’s not what we’re used to, and we’re a paranoid lot by nature.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Don’t run her off. She’s going to be the one we hire to rehabilitate your ass.”
I frown. “Did you talk to her?”
Stone laughed. “No, brother. She told me.”
I shake my head. My woman has finally decided to leave behind the ashes of her old self, and come out of her shell.
“What about her job?”
“She’s making arrangements with her boss to do an outpatient gig for us, so the money will run through the proper channels. They’ll get their cut, and she’ll get to be at home with you. She’s buying the equipment now. I told her she was jumping the gun. Was I wrong?”
I shook my head. “No, I want to know where I stand with this. At least today. Tomorrow who knows where I’ll be.”
I shift my body, and my heart sinks. Without the catheter and bag, I wouldn’t even be able to get myself to the bathroom. Depression clouds roll in, dark and heavy. The smallest thing I’ve always taken for granted now seem like a monumental task. I sink back into the pillows.
“You feeling all right?”
“Tired.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you to it. I wanted to touch base and bring you this.” He pulls out a phone and charger. “It’s already charged up and got all the numbers you need in it.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Whatever you need, let us know.”
I nod my head as he leaves me alone to figure out what the hell I’m going to do moving forward. I fire up the net and begin to familiarize myself with life without the use of my legs. I don’t know if I’m worse off or better when I set the phone aside thirty minutes later. The thought of having to use a catheter for the rest of my life makes me sick to my stomach. If I can’t feel from the waist down, I won’t know when I need to use the restroom or know if I hurt anything from the waist down. Bed sores, clogged pipes, and bed wetting accidents dance around in my mind, haunting me.
How can I live like this? To be on a bowel program that may include manual removal. My gut churns, and I close my eyes. Hell, I could be sitting in feces and not feel it right now. No, I’d smell it. I thought sitting here and pushing everyone away would slow things down, but I see now it won’t. I have to learn as much as I can as fast as I can to gain some semblance of independence. I can’t do anything yet. I’m too weak, but I sure as fuck don’t plan on remaining that way long.
I relax, and let sleep take me. I’m tired, and escaping the bitter battle raging in my head is a bonus to rest.
Pain shoots through my legs, and I cry out as I wake to find my legs trembling like I’m stranded in the Artic with no clothes. Hope sores through me even as I grit my teeth against the pain. Have I been granted a miracle?
“Jesus. Spasticity.”
“It hurts. I can feel it, B,” I say excitedly.
“Oh, baby, no … those are phantom pains.” She leans over the bed and presses the call button.
“Yes?”
“Jagger is having spasticity and phantom pains.”
“We’re on our way down.”
“P-phantom? It feels pretty fucking real, B.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Your body is confused right now and trying to find nerve pathways that aren’t active.”
I grip the bed rails as my legs continue to dance. The nurse arrives; a tall blonde with blue eyes and a round face.
“Mr. Ryan, I’m Theresa, your afternoon nurse. We’re going to see if massage helps with spasticity. This is a normal reaction after a SCI, or Spinal Cord Injury. It’s involuntary leg movement.” She tosses the blanket aside, and I see them for the first time—the useless limbs that seem foreign to me. I scowl down at the pale, twitching legs, and feel sick to my stomach. She grabs my left leg and begins a rub down I can’t feel. My legs respond quickly as the twitching lessens. The burning sensation recedes.
“Depending on what the doctor decides, you may end up with medicine to help with the spasticity, but right now your body is so busy trying to acclimate, things may be more intense than they will be moving forward.”
“And the pain?”
“Neuropathic pain. It’s your brain trying to communicate with the damaged nerves.”
It’s embarrassing being in here with a pretty girl looking after me. I turn to B, and I can tell she’s biting her tongue and chomping at the bit. She wanted to jump in, but it’s not her jurisdiction. To be like this, exposed and weak, it’s shameful. I could do it with B. I’d hate it, but I could handle it. With strangers, not. All I want to do is go home.
“When will the doctor be by?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Dr. Laundry is on duty at the moment. She’ll be stopping to speak with you in another thirty minutes or so.”
“Okay.”
I stare her down coldly, and she covers my legs and backs out.
B places a hand on my shoulders, but remains blissfully silent.
“Want some good news?”
“Be hard to give me that right now.”
“While I was out, I went down to the station. They’re charging Elizabeth with two counts of attempted murder in the first degree.”
“Shit. I was wrong. I hope she gets made someone’s bitch. They like pretty little girls in there.”
She cups the back of my neck, and I allow myself to lean into her and soak up her warmth and love.
“Is it cold in here, or is it me?”
She moves to her cot and adds another blanket.
“B?”
“You have decreased circulation now. You’ll be prone to feeling cold a lot more often.”
“This just keeps getting better and better.” The bitterness wells up, and I pull away physically and mentally as I’m caught somewhere between rage and sorrow. Is this half-life going to be worth the effort just surviving will take? I went from being at the top of the pack to this, unable to control my own legs. How are the brothers going to see me rolling around in a chair a reminder of everything that could go wrong on a bike?
“Blanche?”
“Yeah?”
“I want to get out of here and go home.”
“We’ll do what we can to make it happen as soon as possible.”
“I sense a but here.”
“They have to make sure you’re out of the danger zone for risk for surgery complication, and in the doctor’s mind ready to move on to the rehabilitation stage.”
“What do I need to do for him to think that?”
“Work your ass off and hide those outbursts I know are building up inside of you.”
“To leave this sterile prison, I can do that.”
“I’ll have the house ready for you.”
“B. This is your last chance to bail. It’s going to get ugly before it gets better.”
“I never said I wanted pretty.”