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Who touched me, who gave me comfort?
The scent was all around me, so strong I felt that pain go away as if I were drugged, intoxicated.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Fuck, my throat was tight, my lips dry. “Wa—” I couldn’t get the words out, but a second later, there was a straw to my lips. I sucked, drawing the cold water into my parched mouth, almost moaning at the euphoria that one sip provided.
I turned my head when I was done, and the hand was once again wrapped around mine. Then I heard the sweetest fucking sound I ever heard. She hummed then softly sang to me. I tried in vain to open my eyes, to see who this was. She was my very own fucking angel, and I wanted her smell, warmth, and the sound of her to wash over me, seep through me.
Darkness claimed me over and over again, giving me a reprieve from the pain, but when I’d come to, it was to hear her, smell her… feel her.
I didn’t know who she was, but I knew I’d never let her go.
Chapter Eleven
Zoey
I’d been picking at my breakfast when I heard Wilder start to groan and shift on the bed. I could see from his facial expression he was in pain, and I didn’t even hesitate as I found myself rushing over to him. I sunk to my knees in front of the bed, slid my hands and fingers along his forearm, and finally took his hand in mine. He stilled momentarily, turned his head toward me, and, although he didn’t open his eyes, I felt like he was watching me.
I held my breath, not sure what to do, if I should call out for help. I was just about to, when he made a deep noise in the back of his throat. And then he started to talk, mumbling incoherently. I couldn’t understand him, but the way he licked his lips, his mouth seeming so dry, I assumed maybe he was thirsty. Thankfully, there was a small water bottle and a straw on the table, as if someone anticipated him waking and needing a drink.
I opened the lid, put the straw inside, and placed my hand behind his head, lifting it up slightly. I brought the straw to his mouth and watched while his throat worked as he swallowed.
When he was finished, I set the bottle down, letting my other hand slide away for his head, his short, dark hair soft in my fingers. I held his hand again, feeling like maybe I was making a difference, helping him with his pain.
For the next twenty minutes, he was in and out, waking up and moaning as if in more pain before passing back out. People came in and out during that time, checking on him, Kimber giving him meds. I noticed antibiotics and pain medication.
I moved back when they were here, getting out of the way, standing in the corner, and letting them do their thing. But then when they left, I was right there with Wilder, holding his hand, telling him things I wished somebody would tell me if I was in his situation.
And that’s where I was now, several hours later, still kneeling beside his bed, my head resting on the mattress, one hand twined with his, and my other hand running gently up and down his forearm. I traced the tattoos that lined his skin, mesmerized by them.
Whenever somebody came in, they didn’t mention me being close to him or holding him. The men acted like I wasn’t even there, and Kimber and Amelia gave me sympathetic looks.
I didn’t even understand what I was doing with Wilder or why I cared so much. But I couldn’t stop myself no matter how much it made sense to.
I closed my eyes and started singing the only song I ever remembered my mother humming to me. It was the only “motherly” thing she’d ever done, and even those moments were rare and always when she was shitfaced after stumbling in from the bar. But I still cherished those times, latched on to them as a hopeful little girl.
So I kept singing, not for me or for those out-of-the-blue, drunken memories of my mother, but for this man I didn’t know, this man who I’d never heard his voice clearly, or even knew the color of his eyes. He wasn’t alone, had many people who clearly loved him, yet here I was, wanting desperately to make him feel better.
Because there were so many times I wished someone had done this for me.
I stopped singing and just stared at his hand twined with mine.
“Your voice…”
I snapped my head up and was staring into Wilder’s dark eyes. My heart was racing, my voice gone, so I couldn’t even attempt to reply.
