Page 52 of Fourteen Years

I watched Lucas take off, bypassing the elevators and hitting the stairwell, the door slamming behind him.

I prayed Becks was okay and he wasn’t walking into his own nightmare, even as I turned and went through the doors to get to Monica.

Walking down the chaotic hallway, I glanced into each room looking for Monica when a nurse poked her head out of a room two doors down.

“Mr. Connor?” she questioned, looking at me.

“That’s me.” I walked the last few steps to her hurriedly.

Smiling softly, she spoke, “She’s okay and awake. She’s asking for you, rather furiously actually,” her sentence ended with a soft laugh.

“I said, I’m fine!” Monica’s voice came out of the room, seemingly frustrated. “Where’s Trevor? Is he okay?”

“Mrs. Rogers, he is fine. He rode behind the ambulance with a police officer…” the young, male doctor’s voice cut off, exasperated as he spotted me coming inside the room. “Are you Trevor?” he asked, pleadingly.

My eyes found Monica’s and she stopped struggling, leaning back against the stretcher they had her on, her eyes filling with tears.

“I’m Trevor,” I confirmed, walking to her bedside and grabbing hold of her hand. “Let them do what they need to,” my voice came out soft, ordering her gently. “You lost a lot of blood and probably have a concussion.”

“You’re okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I assured her, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “You’re far worse off than I am.”

“How do we know you don’t have a concussion?” she asked. “They knocked you out.”

I glowered down at her, even as the doctor’s voice broke in.

“We’re gonna probably want to check that out too.” he began.

I looked up, something in my eyes cutting him off.

“After we take care of you first.” he finished, looking back down at Monica.

Chapter 32

Igasped softly as the nurse finished dabbing the stitches. Twenty-eight spread out across my lower abdomen. A tetanus shot and concussion later, I was ready to flee this room. The entire damn hospital. I hated them.

“Remember what the doctor said,” the nurse spoke softly, finishing the bandaging. “You have a concussion. The only reason we’re letting you go is because Mr. Connor has some paramedic training with him being a firefighter.”

“I know,” I said, swinging my legs off. “I’m sorry. I just hate hospitals.”

“We get that a lot around here. I don’t take offense,” she laughed.

I heard Trevor’s voice in the hallway. The jerk hadn’t even had to get on a stretcher. They’d just taken him to another room for a quick concussion assessment. How unfair was that?

“Thanks, Dr. Halmer,” he said calmly in that stupid beautiful voice.

“You two just take care of each other. I’ll wanna see her in about a week to remove the stitches, although she’ll probably talk you into doing it.”

Trevor laughed as I came to the room’s doorway, watching him shake the young doctor’s hand. I tugged the slightly snug shirt down that the hospital had found for me to go home in.

“I’m ready to get out of here.” I spoke as he turned to face me.

“Let me get a wheelchair, Jesus.” he spoke, stepping over to me worriedly.

“Trevor. I’m fine. Other than stitches and a hell of a headache, I’m fine.” I pushed his chest gently.

Huffing out a breath, blowing his bangs off his forehead, he glowered down at me.

---