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“Sir, yes, sir.” Alan’s chuckle nearly lulls me to sleep, this time a real one not brought on by injury, but I stop myself just in time.
“Hey, Ezra?”
“Yes, Wicked?” His deep voice is hoarse in a way, not broken, but slightly strangled.
“I’m okay, big guy. You can clear it now.” He coughs once and I smile at just that small bit of human reaction peering through. I don’t think he even realized the amount of worry and bloodlust he was broadcasting to me.
“Got it.”
“That’s my boy.” I smile as he clears his mind, taking one layer of the weight off of me and allowing me to drift peacefully to sleep. Warmed by the comfort of being surrounded by fierce, protective warriors watching over me. I know it will be restful and deep.
17
“Oh my Lord Almighty, will you stop it?” I swat at Kai’s hand as he adjusts the blanket over my chest, annoyance and the need to strangle him warring for purchase.
We got back from the hospital two days ago after an agonizingly long stint that they forced upon me after I woke up. Apparently, I was a little worse for wear. Who knew?
I was looking forward to getting home and snuggling with Gizmo and Snitch after all the turmoil I’d been through, but I didn’t even get that reprieve. Apparently, my babies are staying with grandpa Alan for right now, because I need to focus onresting.
Which should be easier now that I’m home and away from the constant beeping and interruptions from the nurses that were intent on driving me to a near mental breakdown. I know they were only doing their job, but damn! Could I just get a couple hours of uninterrupted sleep before they waltz in there again with their questions and check-ins?
I’m lucky though.
My concussion was bad, but not too bad. No crazy brain bleeds or irreversible damage. So in a few weeks time, I should be back to my normal self, ready to take on Manna County’s dark and dirty criminals. Until then, rest…the doctors say. Take it easy…they demand. No strenuous activities…they judge, focusing on the guys surrounding me who continued to lay far too familiar touches to every part of me.
Psht. As if I have the time or ability to sit back and do absolutely nothing for that long. Hell no, I’ll be bored as shit. If it were up to me, I’d just return straight to daily life. It’s not like I go running or carry heavy shit. But nooooo…it’s up to my damnbaby sitters.
You know, the three assholes who think they can just waltz into my life and boss me around?!
Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for them saving me, for looking after me, but I’m starting to feel suffocated by their inability to just let me be. They’re worse than the nurses. Which is why I’m thinking homicidal thoughts as Kai continues tucking me in on my couch and fussing over me.
I’ve had it. I’m not worthless. I’m not a burden.
“Goddamnit, Wick! Stop pushing me away!” Kai finally snaps at me as I continue slapping his hands when they close in on me, this time almost knocking a glass out of his grip. “Can you just…” His voice tightens for a moment before he clears his throat and I tune in to him as his guilt and remorse threaten to drown him, taking me along for the ride. “I almost lost you, Wicked. After just finding you. Please, just let me take care of you.”
My eyes burn, throat tightening, as flashes of his self hatred and blame over what happened continue to shoot to me. I drop my hands, acquiescing to his care silently as my head hangs to my chest.
This is killing me.
I know he needs to feel like he’s somehow making up for losing me at the bar, that he thinks it’s his fault and he needs to fix that, but I feel so…useless. So vulnerable. It seems like, with every lost battle between us, I lose just a little bit more of my independence. My ability to survive on my own.
I’m terrified that I’ll come to rely on him and the guys too much, to need them. And when they finally come to their senses and dip out, all that will be left is a mess of a person. A disabled woman. A blind one. One that can’t function without help.
That’s my worst sort of nightmare.
Yet, I still let him do it. Why? Because it makes him feel better. And for some unknown fucking reason, that seems just a bit more important right now. So, even if it kills me, I guess I’ll let him have it.
I only hope that when the guys do eventually move on, dropping me out on the curb with yesterday’s garbage, that they’ll at least have the decency to leave every piece of me behind. That they won’t steal bits and smuggle them away when they go. Hopefully, I’ll be able to find all the pieces and arrange them back together in some semblance of wholeness.
That I won’t be broken without them.
But that’s the thing. Everyone leaves. They take and take, until they get bored or find something better. Humans aren’t capable of sticking it out until the end of time, they’re naturally selfish creatures. And even the ones that come closest to a generous forever, well…they stillleave.
I should know, not even my dad stayed with me.
What’s the point of letting people in, when everyone leaves? What’s the point of risking the pain, when you know the bliss doesn’t last? What’s the point of love, when there’s always death?
Maybe I’ll never find the answers.
