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“Hi, Daddy,” Ryan says gently, his voice thick with a mixture of unshed tears and fear. “I… I’ve… I love you, Dad. Please get better. Please?”
I try to move my hand again, but I can’t, it’s useless. I feel a hand against mine though and when I look down I see Rory’s placed over mine, trying to calm me. I stare at it and memorize this moment. It’s significant, but when Ryan puts his small hand over Rory’s and it is our three joined hands together… it’s everything.
I struggle to keep my eyes from going closed, but I can’t. I do move my fingers so my son and Rory can feel me touching them. That’s as close as I can get to telling them that I will keep fighting.
I will get better.27DieselTwo Weeks Later“Where… in… the hell’s… Rory?” I growl as Crusher comes back into my room.
“Aren’t you cheerful?” he laughs.
I growl under my breath. I don’t feel like being cheerful. It’s been two weeks and I’m still pissing through a tube, got a line coming out of my nose they use to give me food. Needles are in my arms, used to give me fluids and blood whenever they feel like it, along with meds that they tell me will help me get stronger, but it doesn’t feel like it.
I can’t even walk by myself. I’m like a fucking kid. Hell, I have to work to get words out of my mouth. The doctors keep saying I have to retrain my body, apparently that includes my brain. I know what I want to say, but how to say it seems to be all fucked up.
“Rory,” I repeat, and despite the anger and frustration I’m feeling, my voice is weaker this time. They’ve started speech therapy with me, but I’m not doing great with that either. I’m a fucking child. I even have nurses wiping my ass. I don’t feel like a man anymore. I feel like a damn baby.
“She’s at the hotel with Gunner and Rebel.”
“Here,” I demand, my hand slapping against the table they have rolled to my bed. It’s a weak slap, but I still manage it—it’s not much, but at least it’s something.
“Hoss… about that….”
I don’t manage to say anything, but I huff out a deep breath and narrow my gaze on him.
“She doesn’t want to come. I’ve tried. I’ve told her that you’re asking for her. She says you two don’t have anything to say to one another.”
“Bull…shh…it,” I slur out. Words are harder to form when I’m upset.
“I’m just the messenger.”
“Ma..ke her,” I order.
“You can talk to her when you get better. There’s been a lot of improvement in just a couple of weeks.”
“Not e… nuff.”
“Diesel, man, you’re lucky that you remained breathing on your own for as long as you did. You only began fading before I came. If Rory hadn’t called me when she did—”
“Wa… Want her…” I want to add the word here, but it’s too much effort. The truth is…I just want her.
“You’re going to have to cool your jets. She’s had a hard time of it, and she needs her rest. She has to have time to recover too.”
“Pregnant,” I murmur, managing to get the word out with one try. It feels like I won a war with that feat.
I need to get the doctor to check me out. Rory swore the child is mine. I need to know if somehow my damn vasectomy was botched or what’s going on. I’ve been lied to by women who made a career of spinning tales. Rory… she’s different and no woman who was lying and using you would protect your child like she did, not when they were convinced I was dead. I don’t know much of anything anymore, but I know that. I also know that whatever the outcome, I’m keeping Rory. She’s mine and if I can ever get the chance to talk to her and be a man who can wipe his own ass again… I’ll tell her that.
“Hoss…” Crusher says, his voice changing for some reason.
I don’t know why he’s taken to calling me Hoss. If I could talk, I’d tell him to stop. It’s not worth the effort to tell him that right now, however. When he doesn’t say anything else, I look up at him to see what the problem is. I don’t like what I see on his face.
“What?”
“Rory lost the baby. I don’t know the details, Rory won’t talk about it, but apparently, she broke down around Nicole. Dragon said she was a mess. Doesn’t matter how hard he presses her though—and he admits he hasn’t tried much because he didn’t want to make things worse—she won’t tell him.”
Crusher’s words rip through me, leaving destruction in their place. Frustration, anger, pain… it’s all there. I grab the cup of ice chips off the table and sling them.
