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I nod. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I’m not exactly sure what I can do, but I’m not letting them release her to her own devices. As much as she hates being around people, being alone is the last thing she needs. The option to put her in a homeless shelter doesn’t sit well with me either.
Before walking in the room, I turn back to the doctor. “Can she go outside today?”
His smile is kind when he answers. “Yes. I think it’ll do her some good to get fresh air.”
I tap lightly on the partially closed door then push it the rest of the way open when she doesn’t answer. I look around the room until I spot her on the bed, sound asleep. I lighten my steps so I don’t disturb her until I’m standing by the bed. I set the bags and drink holder down on the table beside the bed then look down at her, taking her in. Not for the first time, I notice how beautiful she is.
Her long brown hair hangs over one side in a loose braid, and her head is facing me. Except for a few yellow areas, most of the bruising is gone. The scrapes and cuts are healing nicely, but she’ll always carry scars. I run my eyes down the rest of her body. The covers are pulled to her waist and her hands are resting on her stomach.
Tavers spoke with his wife about Doe, explaining she had no idea who she was, where she came from, and had no family that she knew of. After learning of my visits to her in the hospital, and Mindy being the kind-hearted woman she is, she insisted I bring her clothes and toiletries. She said that no woman should be forced to wear the stiff gowns provided by the hospital or use the harsh shampoos and soaps. I didn’t tell her that I had already bought her one nightgown and replaced the bathroom necessities with better ones. I just let the woman do her thing. The gesture was just like Mindy; always giving and caring for others.
The gown Doe’s wearing right now, light blue with tiny white stars, is one that Mindy brought for her. I’m glad to see she’s steadily putting on weight. She’s still got a long way to go, but she looks a hundred times better than she did that first day.
I frown when her once restful breathing becomes labored. Her hands twitch on her stomach, and her eyes flicker back and forth behind her closed eyelids. A small moan slips past her lips, and her head starts tossing. Pain stabs my heart when I notice a tear leaking out the corner of one eye. She may not remember her time in hell, but it’s still in her, still grips her in her sleep. I know the feeling, and I fucking hate she’s going through this.
Over the past three weeks, I’ve come to know Doe as much as anyone can under the circumstances. I don’t know who she was before, but I do know who she is now. The wary, oftentimes scared woman. The woman who’s strong but still so fragile. She looks so lost at times, like a little girl, and it makes me want to hold her and tell her everything will be okay. I’ve never been able to handle women crying. It does some serious shit to my gut.
Her brows wrinkle, and her lips purse. Knowing I shouldn’t because of her repugnance to touch but unable to allow her to remain in the throes of her nightmare, I reach out to touch her shoulder. Just before my hand touches her, she lets out a soft cry, and her eyes snap open.
Fear like I’ve never seen before stares back at me, and I freeze. I hold my breath, unsure of what she’s going to do. A split second later, she bolts up in bed, and cries, “No!” She bolts to the other side of the bed, and I reach out to grab her arm before she can fall off and hurt herself. She flinches as if my touch burns her, and her eyes widen. They travel down to my hand on her arm before lifting them to me.
“It’s okay, Doe,” I say with a calm voice. “It’s Niko.”
Her brows furrow as recognition dawns.
“W-w-what happened?” she asks, her voice trembling.
My hand is still gripping her arm because it’s the only thing keeping her from falling.
“You were having a dream,” I answer then watch her closely.
“Oh.” Her voice is small and timid, and I don’t fucking like it. She’s gotten better with her skittishness over the past few weeks, but right now, she looks like a frightened kitten or some shit.
Her eyes go back to my hand gripping her upper arm, and she swallows before looking back up at me.
“Y-you can let go now.”
One corner of my mouth tips up. “If I let you go, Doe, you’ll topple over the edge.”
She looks behind her and finally realizes she’s practically hanging off the bed. Using her free arm, she scoots herself back on the bed. Once I know she’s not going to fall over the edge, I unwrap my fingers around her bicep.
“You okay?” I ask.
She runs her hands up and down her thighs, and her throat bobs as she swallows. “Yes.”
I grab the bag of grub from the table and hold it up for her to see, hoping it’ll distract her from her nightmare.
“I brought burgers, fries, and shakes.”
She eyes the bag hungrily then looks at the shakes. Reverence washes over her face. Except for the first time, every food I’ve brought, she’s eaten slow and with wonder on her face as if she’s never tasted it before and it’s her new favorite thing. Who in the hell hasn’t had donuts before? A week ago, I introduced her to chocolate shakes, and I laughed when she closed her eyes and moaned deeply.
“You want to go outside to eat?” I suggest. Her eyes widen in surprise, and I smile. “Doc Evans says it might do you good to go out today.”
She looks at the window, back at me, and then shocks the shit out of me when she smiles. This is the first time I’ve seen her smile, and it’s absolutely breathtaking, completely transforming her face. She was beautiful before, but seeing her features relaxed with a smile is utterly captivating. She not only smiles with her lips but with her whole damn face too.
“I would love to go outside,” she says, and I shake my head to relieve it of its thoughts on her beauty.
