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“She’s with me.” Rex reaches out to me, yanks on my waist, and has my ass in the gurney with him as the staff continues to wheel us into a hall that resembles a hospital. Sterile paint, clean floor, and that ever-present scent of rubbing alcohol. The nurse grumbles a response but doesn’t force me off of the moving bed.
Fuck I hate hospitals.
Deep breaths help keep the panic at bay as more doors are passed and we’re in an exam room, surrounded by white coats and more blue smocks.
“I’m gonna be alright, babe. Just concussion.” Rex whispers in my ear, his arm still around my waist, holding me against him. His warmth is nice against the chill in the air. His scent a reminder that this is not the same as the last time I joined someone in the hospital.
They poke and prod him, ask a thousand questions.
“What’s your name?”Rex Thompson.
“What’s your birthday?”May effing 3rd.
“What happened? What’s your pain level?” And all those other medical questions they ask to ensure the diagnosis is proper.
“Miss, what about you?” I’m struck out of my singular focus when I swing my gaze to the opposite side of the bed and find a white coat staring down at me.
“Just a few bruises. I’m fine.”
Somehow … he’s assessed, tested, treated, and back on his way out the door with not much more than a bandage on his forehead and a pain med prescription. They rushed his ass around, mentioned not being secured to keep him, and got him priority release once they established that Ian would be staying with him.
They even bandaged up the few scrapes I managed to walk away from the crash with and didn’t bother to ask for my medical information.
What the fuck?
Still a little slurry, still wobbly on his feet, his harmonizing voice carries through the halls as we walk back out the same direction we came in. Or at least I think we are. This place is a labyrinth, but the only thing that seems to keep my attention is Rex who has his arm thrown over my shoulders and my palm to his chest to keep him walking straight.
He sings a song I don’t know, but he knows well, the lyrics melancholy in nature. His words seem sad with low tones and lower ones, but the smile on his face is a complete contradiction. The warmth of his body against mine when he sings of cold nights alone sends tingles down my spine.
We emerge into the dock area, and Ian comes into view as he leans casually against the SUV.
“Rex.” He comes forward to meet us as if it hasn’t been hours since we last saw him. “You good?” Rex answers with a sincere nod that Ian returns in the form of a lifted chin. I witness relief wash over Ian’s face as he follows us around the car and opens the door for us to climb in. I get in first and scoot across theleather seats. Rex smacks my ass before I land, eliciting a snicker from me.
“Is that Rex Thompson?!” The excitable question cuts through the air just before Ian can slam the door closed and make his way into the driver’s seat.
“No.” He answers abruptly and slams his door closed. We’re moving through the open bay door when I catch sight of a female in smocks being held back by another much larger nurse as she reaches out in our direction.
Ok, that’s weird.
“Where to, boss?” Ian asks as if we didn’t just shake off a crazy lady that somehow knew who the hell Rex was. Nobody gets a reception like this. The tidbits begin to float around in my subconscious, even as Rex grips my hand.
Stalked on an outside date.
“Take us home, Ian.”
Car chase.
“Alright. I’ll drop her off first.”
Car fucking wreck. Where the at-fault runs.
“No. She comes, too.”
Secret hospital entrance and rapid treatment.
“Rex, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Now, a lady screaming his name— Rex fucking Thompson.
