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Two more days pass.I sit, I drink water, I use the bathroom, I talk to visitors, but mostly, I watch Aziel.
The rattle is gone from his chest. His breathing is clear and finally his tube is gone.
Yet he still sleeps.
“Still nothing?” Lynx startles me from dozing on the nearby chair. He stands tall and broad in the doorway, his dark hair laying upon his shoulders. With his leather coat with their MC emblem on it, paired with a pair of jeans and biker boots, he looks menacing, even with the soft look on his face when he looks at his son.
The workers are terrified of the guys. They tremble in their bodies and in their voices. They don’t dare talk back and always are quick to do whatever they say.
“Nothing.” I run a hand through my blonde hair. I haven’t showered in a week.
Since the day I found him.
“He’ll wake up. He didn’t walk all the way here just to die in a fucking hospital bed.” He walks over to Aziel, checking him out from head to toe. Staring at the machine that shows the vitals. Examining everything.
“I hope so.” I whisper.
He turns to me, a stern look in his features. “Quit wallowing, Ivy. It’s my son. Who do you think he came back for? I know he didn’t travel for two months on a broken foot and collapsed lung to see my old ass.” He huffs.
I squint at him. “You’re not old.”
He rolls his eyes. “He came back for you, Ivy. Not the club, and not for his brothers. For you. Now get up. Quit wallowing. Go get some food. Maybe take a fuckin’ shower. You smell like hell.”
My cheeks pinken in irritation and embarrassment. He’s becoming more like an asshole father as the days go on. Pissing me off more and more as the days go on, too.
“I think you should stop talkin’ to my girl like that before I knock your teeth out, old man.” Come a rough voice from across the room.
Both Lynx and I look at each other with wide eyes
“Oh my God!” I cry out, rushing to the side of the bed. Aziel barely has his eyes open, his lids lowered to slits. I press my hand against his chest gently, loving the strong beating heart as it thumps against my palm. “You’re okay.” I breathe.
“You were on quite the adventure, weren’t you?”
Aziel grimaces. “Not an enjoyable one.” His voice is dry, what sounds like sand grating against his throat. I pick up my cup of water from the bedside tray, placing the straw between his lips so he can take a sip. His eyes squeeze shut as he swallows, pain apparent in his features.
“What’s wrong?” I set the cup back down.
He shakes his head. “What the fuck happened?”
“A lot.” Lynx chuckles. “There’s not one part of you that isn’t injured, son.”
“What do you need?” I ask. He looks in so much pain.
“I could use a cigarette.” He grunts.
“They’ve let the guys get away with pretty much everything, but for some reason I don’t think smoking in a hospital room will fly.” I lift my eyebrows.
His barely opened eyes fall shut, and my heart thumps in fear. “Aziel? Are you okay?”
One eye cracks open. “I’m fucking tired. And if I’m not going to smoke a cigarette to deal with this pain, I’m going back to sleep.”
“I can go get a nurse.” I step away from the bed, but his hand snaps out and grips my wrist with a surprising amount of strength.
“No.” He says.
“No?” I tilt my head, confused.
He shakes his head ever so slightly. “No. You’re getting in this bed with me because you aren’t leaving my sight. Ever again.” He commands, his raspy voice cracking over his words and barely hanging on.
