“Really?” I whisper as hope springs alive inside. “I’m probably quite a hot mess right now and I’m sure I’ve got even more scars than I had before.”
“And we’ll talk about those later,” he promises. “Just know that every single one that marks your body shows you survived something that was meant to kill you.”
Alrighty then, when he puts it like that, I realize that it’s all going to work out. “So, how long do I have to be here?” I ask.
“The doctor already came around while you were sleeping,” he teases, “but he said that everything is looking good, so he might release you by the weekend. Oh, and since stairs are going to be a no-go for the time being, you’ll stay with Esther and Paul.”
“Holly’s grandparents?” I ask. “Why?”
“Because Esther says it’ll be better for a woman to take care of you. I was going to bring you to the clubhouse, but she’s right. We’re not at the point in our relationship where you’ll be comfortable with me helping you back and forth to the bathroom or showering.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable enough for bathroom help,” I tease, snickering. “No reason to take all the mystery away, after all.”
He chuckles and I see relief cross his face. Is it because I’m taking his news so well? Or because he was worried about having to help me in that manner. He must know what I’m thinking because he leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. “I want to know everything there is to know about you, Marnie Burgess.”
I feel my face heat as I tell him, “About that. When I uh… left my hometown, I used my mom’s maiden name and found someone to make me the appropriate documentation so I could start again. My real last name is Duncan.”
“Duncan,” he breathes out. “That explains why Data couldn’t find anything, sweetheart. We could tell from the security tapes that you knew the two men who attacked you, but he came up with nothing.”
“Tell him my birth year is off as well,” I admit. “It’s one year higher.”
I know they need this information, so I don’t hesitate to tell him, even though I’m embarrassed to be in this situation to begin with. Stupid Pace; still trying to ruin my life from beyond the grave.
“I’ll let him know, Marnie,” he replies.
“Good. Ash? Can you stay with me until I fall asleep again?” I ask as the pain meds start to drag me under.
“Wouldn’t go anywhere else, sweetheart,” he promises.
SIX
ASH
Not only do I stay with her until she falls asleep, but I also end up doing the same, my head lying on the bed next to her while her hand is clasped in mine. When I think of the significant damage that one knife did to her, I nearly lose my shit again. But I wasn’t lying to her; if she wants babies down the road, we’ll figure it out. Her not being able to bear children in no way lessens how I feel about her. In all reality, according to the doctor, it would have been challenging for her to carry a baby as it is since one of her ovaries was apparently ruptured at some point in the past. The doctor said the scar tissue was ‘horrific’ in that area, which is what made it more difficult to find all the bleeders from the stab wound. I guess, if I’m being honest, based on the security tape, it was more of a downward slash based on the fact there were so many organs impacted. A simple stabbing wouldn’t have wrought the devastation that Marnie’s body sustained.
While finding a surrogate isn’t off the table, I’m sure that would be a process in and of itself, especially since she’s only got one working ovary. Still, if that’s what she wants to do, I’ll make it happen for her. As far as I’m concerned, it can just be us, butI know from things she’s said in the past that she wants it all—husband, house, children, pets.
I know I also didn’t tell her that until her bowel heals, she’s going to be on a somewhat restricted diet that’ll start with liquids and slowly progress as healing occurs. She’s already somewhat petite and really can’t afford to lose the weight, but I’m positive once Esther has her at her home, she’ll be fattening her back up. Grinning, I briefly wonder if I can tell Esther that she’s welcome to add meat to those delectable hips that give way to some of the best-looking legs I’ve ever seen on a woman.
It’s probably because of all the walking she does when she’s working because she’s extremely toned for someone who is ‘allergic’ to exercise. At least, that’s what I’ve heard her tell Wendy whenever she invites Marnie to some hot yoga class she’s nuts about.
I’m so exhausted from the initial worrying when Psycho found her, that I don’t wake up until I hear the low murmur of a nurse as she goes over Marnie’s vitals. Sitting up, I bite back a groan when I realize I’ve got a good old-fashioned crick in my neck. That’s gonna be a bitch to work out without a hot shower and a handful of ibuprofen.
“Everything okay?” I quietly ask the nurse since Marnie is still sound asleep. I’m unsure if it’s the pain medication or if it’s a healing sleep, but at this point, if it keeps her from actively feeling the repair work the surgeon did, I’m all for letting her sleep.
“She’s doing just fine. I won’t wake her now, but I’ll need to change the dressings on her wounds before the end of my shift,” Agnes replies. I’ve made it a point to look at everyone who comes near Marnie so I can catch their names. Since it’s my privilegeto protect her now that I’ve claimed her, I want only those who have good intentions near my woman.
“I’ll be sure to let y’all know when she wakes up,” I tell her. “Is there anything I can do for her?”
“You’re actually doing it, sir,” she says. “I’ve found in my fifteen years of nursing that patients who have a loved one with them seem to do better. Right now, and for the next few weeks, she’s probably going to sleep more than she usually does. It’s a healing rest, which her body needs due to the significant trauma she sustained. In fact, it’s going to take her months, potentially longer, to fully regain her strength.”
I nod, understanding what she’s saying. “I’ve already got arrangements in place for when she’s released.” At her raised brow, I continue and say, “She has an upstairs apartment, but I know with the injuries she has, there’s no way she’s going to be able to handle stairs.”
“No, she won’t,” Agnes replies, throwing away the trash that’s accumulated on the rolling tray. “Let me refill her pitcher with fresh ice and water. I know an aide typically does it, but I have the time to take care of that for her.”
“Thank you.”
“I redid a background check on Marnie using the information she gave you,” Data says as he watches Marnie sleep.
