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“Yes.”
“My name is Keisha, and I’m a nurse at Loma Linda University Medical Center. Do you know a man named Timothy Pasternak?”
A cold trickle of dread slid down my spine, and my throat became so dry that I could barely manage, “Yes, I do.”
“I found your business card in his wallet, with your cell number written on the back. Since I couldn’t find an emergency contact for Mr. Pasternak, I’m giving you a call.”
“Is he alright?”
My entire world shattered at her next words. “There’s been an accident.”
21
Timothy
I couldn’t figure out what was happening when I woke up. It was way too bright, and I was really groggy. I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths before trying again.
I was in a room I’d never seen before, and when I turned my head I was staring at some sort of monitor and an IV bag. I followed the tubes and found they were running to my left arm. My right arm was in a cast, and so was my right leg, which was suspended in some sort of sling.
What the hell?
After a minute, I realized the sun was just starting to set and streaming in through a bank of windows. No wonder it was so bright.
I tried to remember what had happened. All I could recall was being on a skateboard.
A sound caught my attention, and I raised my head a little. Aleksei was standing in the doorway, talking to a man in a white lab coat.
The sight of him was accompanied by an immediate sense of relief. I didn’t know what was happening, but I was going to be okay. He’d make sure of it. I felt that deep down. I closed my eyes again and gave in to the urge to sleep.
The next time I woke up, it was dark out, and the room was softly lit. Aleksei was right beside me. As soon as my eyelids fluttered, he leapt up and whispered, “Tima.” He pressed his cheek to mine and said something in Russian that roughly translated to calling me a piece of sugar.
“Sakharok is like sweetie or sweetheart, right?” I more or less croaked those words and tried to swallow.
“Yes. My sweet one.” He searched my face as he asked, “Are you okay?”
“Thirsty. My mouth is so dry.”
“I’ll get you some ice chips.”
I was going to tell him to stay with me, but he was a man on a mission. He dashed from the room and returned maybe a minute later with a nurse and a cup of ice.
The woman asked me, “Are you in pain?”
I rasped, “No. I feel…floaty.”
“You’re on a morphine drip. The doctor might want to adjust your dose.” She checked my pulse, examined the monitor and the IV bag, and said, “I’ll tell the doctor you’re awake. He’ll be in shortly.” Then she left the room, and Aleksei cupped my cheek.
He fed me an ice chip, and after it melted on my tongue, I asked, “What happened?”
“Apparently you crashed your skateboard. A delivery driver saw the crash and called an ambulance. You hit your head—there’s a bruise on your forehead. You also broke your arm and your leg. The leg was a pretty bad break. The doctor performed surgery and installed a metal rod in your calf.”
“Cool,” I muttered. “I’m like a cyborg.”
Aleksei grinned and said, “I think the nurse is right about adjusting your morphine.”
I lost the fight to keep my eyes open and murmured, “So tired.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
I felt considerably more lucid the next time I opened my eyes. I also ached a little, but it was better than being in a fog.
As promised, Aleksei was right beside me. He was slumped in the chair and looked exhausted, but as soon as he saw I was awake he jumped up and asked, “How do you feel?”
“Okay.”
“Want some more ice?”
My mouth felt dry again, but I murmured, “Please stay here.” He sat down and began gently rubbing my shoulder, probably because it was one of the few parts of me that wasn’t blocked by a cast or tubes. “What time is it?”
“Around ten p.m.”
“Is it still Tuesday?”
“Yes.”
“I need to send Daniel a message. He’ll probably be home soon, and he’ll be worried if I’m not there.”
“I’ll help.”
He retrieved my phone from a plastic bag in the closet and sent the message I recited. Daniel replied right away, letting me know he was still in LA but was going to hurry back. I asked Aleksei to tell him I was okay, and that I wasn’t alone, so Daniel didn’t have to rush.
Then, as he put the phone on the nightstand, I asked, “How did you know I was hurt?”
“A nurse found my card in your wallet and called me. I went straight to the airport while Maureen chartered a private jet for me. You’d just gotten out of surgery when I arrived.”
