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Dr. Peterson nods at Easton. “Right, then. I’ll have the nurse come in with a wheelchair and we’ll get you out of here shortly. Sound good?”
I nod, sensing Easton wants to talk to me about something.
I’ve wanted to know what’s going on with the Mexicans, but Easton has been tight lipped about the entire thing since we got in here. Saying that the only thing I should really be focusing on is getting better.
Well, enough is enough. I need to know what’s going on. Sooner or later, I need to get back in the business. If I don’t, there’s really nothing left for me to do here.
When Dr. Peterson leaves the room, I turn to Easton, “What’s going on?”
Easton’s eyebrows lift. “What do you mean?”
“You seem anxious or something. Spit it the fuck out.”
He sighs, running a hand through his wet hair. “We’ll talk when we get out of here, all right?”
“Fine.” I turn my head, mentally shaking my foot because I can’t do it in real life.
Is this what life is going to be for now on? Mentally doing things when I physically can’t?
The nurse comes in shortly after with two male nurses and a wheelchair. I want to roar from the top of my lungs just thinking about two grown men lifting me. I literally can’t do this.
How fucking embarrassing.
“Okay, Jackson. We’re going to help you get into the chair so you can get the hell out of here. How does that sound?”
“It’d sound better if I could walk out of here with my two damn legs.”
The woman nurse smiles awkwardly at me and lets out a short laugh. “Oh, well, of course. I’m sorry what’s happened to you, but I promise we’ll make this quick and easy for you.”
I watch Easton’s nostrils flare repeatedly. That’s all I focus on as two adults help lift me from the bed where I’ve been for almost an entire month and onto a wheelchair. It feels weird, sitting up like this. My head rushes from the movement and the different position I’m seated in.
Easton grabs the small bag of belongings I’ve collected the last few weeks, and as the nurses are about to start pushing me out of the room, Easton butts in front of one of them, grabbing onto the handles of the wheelchair.
“I’ve got it.” He growls.
“Oh, but sir…” She says, growing nervous with her shaky tone.
“I said, I’ve got it.”
“But, what about getting him in the car? It’s our protocol—”
Easton pushes them away the rest of the way and then I start gliding towards the door. “I’m not sure if you know what I’ve got it means, but I think you need to get the fuck out of my way and let me do what I’m goin’ to do. With or without your fucking approval.”
I hear silence and envision three nurses standing in my room with their jaws dropped to the floor.
For the first time since I’ve been brought here, Easton’s darkness had made me feel like home.
And fuck, I can’t wait to go home.
Easton wheels me to the car and pushes the brakes down once we get to the passenger side. We sit there in silence and stare at the door.
What now?
He opens the door and moves the seat back so there’s more room. When he turns to me, he looks like he’s ready to pick up a child instead of a grown ass man.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I deadpan.
“Trying to get you the fuck in the car so I can leave this place and never step foot here again.”
