Page 70 of Cries of Cassie

There's a tension that goes beyond the dull throbbing in my entire body. It wakes me with dread, like a weight pressing down on my chest.

I can almost hear the sirens warning me that something is amiss in my surroundings. After such a short amount of time with my guys, it's amazing I can feel the shift in them before I've fully woken up.

I just know...nothing will be easy for a long time.

Blinking my eyes open, hoping it's not as bad as the unease twisting my gut, I suck in a shuddering breath. Scared to face them, I keep my eyes aimed at the ceiling and catalogue everything else first.

Must be midday judging by the sunshine hardly being blocked by the curtains. My throat cries out for water, but my roiling stomach denies it. Definitely can't eat. I must be on a lot of drugs if the odd lack of excruciating pain is anything to go by.

No matter how long I blink blearily at the ceiling, I can't ignore the overwhelming urge to seek them out. I know they're here. Parker, Koa, Ripley, and Maddox won't be far.

I doubt I'll be able to leave their sight ever again, which I don’t mind. But what if...they view me differently after seeing—after seeing that video and me passing out? I don't know if that's something I can deal with.

Will I need to prove myself all over again? Somehow I don't believe surviving that hellhole will be enough for them to let me live my club life the way I want to.

Will I be a new kind of prisoner with them? Is that something I would enjoy or will it be suffocating?

If Maddy pushes me away after this, who knows how I'll be able to go on. This has all been too much, and if I come out the other side only to lose them anyway...

I need to know.

With my heart beating wildly in my throat and my body limp on the hospital bed, I flick my eyes to my doom. Immediately, I stifle a gasp and clench my jaw to hold my sob in. The feeling I woke up with makes sense. There was a change I couldn't comprehend until I faced it.

Ripley.

He embodies a shadow. Dark bruises beneath his eyes, an odd tilt in his posture, chin lowered, large frame poised for anything, he hovers at the foot of my bed and stares. Not a word or a gasp spills from his lips. His rumbly growl is locked away too. Is he even there?

The jump of his Adam’s apple is the only indication that he's not unaffected. Over and over again he swallows as we watch each other, but it seems neither of us is ready to brave the future yet.

It takes me four seconds to note that Koa and Parker are sleeping on the couch and Maddy's in the bathroom. Four seconds for Ripley to release his possessive grunt that gives me so much hope I feel like I can take my first real breath since the accident.

He still wants my attention.

He wants my eyes open and on him. Ripley needs to know I'm alive. That I can speak.

"Tell me." My voice is hardly more than a cracked plea, but it makes him jolt all the same.

A feminine gasp comes from the hospital door. Before I can comprehend what's happening, Parker's mom is shoving a straw in my mouth and whispering something about water. I don't fight her, but I do narrow my eyes at Ripley.

Pulling away from the drink, I ask again. "Tell me, my love. Please?"

The tears I was holding on lockdown slip free one by one. Bless her heart, Mom just wipes them away silently, allowing me to have this awful moment with one of my men while she comforts me.

"Too many lacerations to count," Ripley begins. His voice is devoid of emotion but so scratchy I fear he's on the brink of losing his voice. "Six on your thighs needed stitches. Four bruised ribs, a broken nose, infected cuts on your feet and knees, stitches above your eyebrow where the doctors believe you hit your head on the steering wheel. Bruises everywhere. And⁠—"

His hesitation makes my gut swirl with dread. After that awful list, what could he still be scared to tell me?

Ripley swallows. He's so tense I can see his muscles bunching under his shirt and in his neck as he battles the stress of telling me. "When your shoulder dislocated, the stretch tore a ligament."

I frown, not sure what he's so hesitant about. It makes sense to me. The horrific snap and pop of my bone separating from where it should be was awful. Of course something else got fucked up.

"Everything else will heal simply with care and a few weeks for the most part, but your shoulder..."

"Ripley!" Parker hisses, jumping from the couch, eyes wild looking between the two of us like we're a bomb about to go off. "What are you doing?"

Ripley isn't finished, and I don't ask him to stop. I need to know. "What would normally be six to twelve weeks for someone else's shoulder, will likely take you six to twelve months."

Oh. My EDS.