Instead, I try to hide my emotions with a lie. Letting my eyelids droop and releasing a yawn, I mutter out, “I’m sleepy.”
He brushes my cheek gently. “Just give me a moment, Precious. I need to call the doctors.” He reaches across me and presses the button on my bed. It surprises me because the bed’s massively wide, and yet he makes it look effortless as he says, “She’s awake.”
“Okay. We’ll be right in, Mr. Santini,” a woman says through the speaker. More than likely, he’s paged my nurse or someone at the nursing station, but for whatever reason, hearing her say his name makes me jealous.
“How long have I been here?” I ask when he sits back in the chair. The sun’s out, so it could be the same day or maybe the next day. My gaze remains on the window, hoping that it hasn’t been long.
“About three hours and twenty-eight minutes.” He kept track? Why? Maybe he’s a time guy. One of those people obsessed with knowing the comings and goings by the clock. It’s probably not because he actually cares about me.
I wonder. “What time is the sun supposed to set?” I ask, turning my attention from the window to him.
He looks at me like maybe I’m more hurt than I am, but he doesn’t mention his suspicions. Instead, he just answers my question with a shrug. “I don’t know. I can look it up, but from the color in the sky, I’d say soon.”
The nurses enter the room before he can ask the question I see in his eyes. There are two of them, one nearly as young as me and the other in her late forties or so. Both of them are smiling sweetly at me. As they approach, Anthony stands up. Is he leaving me?
Panic sets in. The fear of his abandonment washes over me. “Please don’t leave,” I beg, gripping his hand tightly.
He leans down and brushes his lips against my temple. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just trying to give them room.” The younger one’s eyes are glued to Anthony, biting her lip as she watches the muscles in his arms flex under his short sleeves. I want to bite her for staring at him. He’s clearly here for me and not her, but I can’t fault the girl. He’s one fine-looking man. I focus on his movements; they’re catlike, despite his size.
Anthony steps to the edge of the bed, and I feel the mattress dip as he takes a seat next to my feet. This bed is almost big enough for us to share. Why did that come to my mind? The heat of a blush covers my face, and Anthony doesn’t stop staring. I bite my lip and look away, but the damn heart monitor gives me away. It’s picked up twenty beats from his intense stare. The nurses ask me some routine questions as they record my vitals. “Do you have any pain?”
“A little.” I look back at Anthony, and he’s scowling.
“What’s wrong?” I don’t like that he’s angry. Did I miss something? His dark brows knit together as a frown deepens. He shakes his head in frustration.
“Baby, you shouldn’t be in here.” He sighs, clenching his fists.
“Am I not that hurt? Are they being overprotective?”
“That’s not what I mean at all.” His eyes widen, and his head pops back like I slapped him. Granted, until he rescued me, the idea had crossed my mind daily.
“He blames himself,” the older nurse, Ladonna, interjects as she scans my forehead, taking my temperature. “He’s been grumbling that it’s all his fault. Don’t let this one get away.” She pats my hand lightly and then walks to the rolling computer desk she brought and makes some notes. The other nurse just watches her like she’s learning, but really her eyes keep darting back to Anthony. She should be focused on her job and not on my hero.
The nurse I like completes her evaluation and says, “The doctor will be in to go over your wounds. Are you thirsty, cold?”
“Thirsty,” I say. With the way Anthony absentmindedly rubs my calves, I don’t feel the least bit cold.
“Apple or orange juice?”
“Orange juice and water, please, Ladonna. Thank you.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back,” she says so kindly.
Then the other little miss thing asks Anthony, “Mr. Santini, anything for you?” Her voice is laced with so much sugar, my teeth hurt. I roll my eyes and try to avoid looking like a jealous girlfriend because I’m not.
“No, thank you.” His tone is indifferent as if he didn’t see or care for her coy looks. He moves back to the chair next to me and takes my hand again, sending my heart racing. He doesn’t miss the reaction he has on me, and there’s really no sense in denying it. I give him a return squeeze, and his eyes worryingly gaze into mine.
As the door shuts behind the nurses, he asks, “Something wrong? Do you need anything?”
“I don’t know. I’m trying to puzzle out what happened today.” Today’s a jumbled mess that I wish to forget.
“Do you remember it?” There’s a slight hesitation in his voice, as if he’s almost as afraid to hear my answer as I am to give it.
“Most of it, I do, but I’m not ready to talk about it.”
“Understood. You’ve been through a lot.” Lowering his head, he kisses my hand. I want him to kiss my lips, but we have more to deal with and I can’t get distracted by his touch. I wish someone would come in and interrupt us. Honestly, I’m surprised that we’re alone.
It hits me that maybe my parents aren’t aware of what happened. “Where are my parents?”
He frowns, and I tense up. “Please tell me that Brandon didn’t attack my parents because I don’t want their deaths on my conscience.”
“They were here for a few minutes, but they had to go. I didn’t ask why. Having you all to myself isn’t anything I’ll complain about.” Oh, so just as per their usual, they had more important things to do.
“You did the last time I saw you,” I snipe.
He frowns with a genuinely defeated look about him. “I’m sorry. I can’t even begin to apologize for my behavior— but that’s a discussion for another time,” he remarks as someone knocks on my hospital room door.
“Hello, Blade.” Doc turns to Jules. “Hello, Ms. Walker. How are you feeling?”
“You’re the doc from Steeleville.”
“Yes. I am. I happened to be on call today when you came in. Does that bother you?”
“No, merely an observation.”
“So, after going over your wounds and your vitals the nurses took, you’re in good condition, but you’re going to need some time to heal. We’re going to keep you overnight for observation.”
“What injuries are there?”
“You have seven different lacerations from a small knife. Thankfully, all were superficial, however you do have a broken wrist and ring finger.”
“Yes, I remember that part. He tried to put a ring on my finger.” Anthony growls, and I squeeze his hand with my good one.
“Well, there were no signs of rape, although we believe that was his intent. You have some bruising on your face, throat, and limbs because you put up one hell of a fight. Thankfully, there are no other major injuries, although I am referring you to the social worker here. You will need to speak to someone on this matter as a part of the emotional recovery.”