Page 7 of Eluding the Billionaire
Fuck, I wish somebody would shut that damn beeping off. The loud repetitive sound seems to be imbedding itself painfully into my skull like a jackhammer piercing through concrete. I go to lift my arm to brush something from my face, but the slight muscle movement radiates a wave of pain up the length of it, across the breadth of my chest, and down my legs. And for all that, my arm, as if restrained, remains on the bed. At least I can tell that much. I’m on a bed with a pillow under my head.
Words form in my head and stay there, never making it to my lips. I press my lips together, but even that is impossible with something lodged between them uncomfortably.
What the hell is wrong with me?The first clear thought I’ve had races through my head. But as quickly as it comes, it disappears again, like the ending of an old black-and-white movie flickering, then fading to black.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Slowly, my brain eases into consciousness with a vague memory of this happening before; the steady, constant beeping the one thing my mind clings to as I slowly awaken.
Where am I?forms on my dry, sore lips and escapes from my body, not as words but as an incoherent grunt instead. I can feel somebody standing over me, touching my arm, adjusting the sheet that lies across my body. If I wasn’t so tired, I would open my eyes to see who it is.
Cool, refreshing ice touches my lips, a trickle making its way into my mouth. I pray this small drop of moisture will unstick my tongue and soothe my raw, scratchy throat.
A gentle female voice near my ear whispers, “Andrew, can you hear me?” I can’t reply. “You’ve had an accident, and you’re in the hospital.” It doesn’t sound like my mother, and she’s the only person I know who calls me Andrew.
The stranger’s voice continues reassuringly. “You need to rest now.” So I let sleep take over.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
This time when I wake, my head feels a little clearer. I let the sounds in the room wash over me. I remember someone telling me that I’m in the hospital. The constant beeping and whirring of machines make sense to me now and don’t feel so alien. I try to focus on the low murmur of voices near my bed.
Nowthatis my mother’s voice. The need to see her face has me finally blinking my eyes open a sliver. Bright lights blind me momentarily, but with a few more slow blinks, my eyes adjust. I tilt my head toward my mother’s voice. It’s only a slight movement, but it causes me to feel light-headed and queasy, though thankfully, it passes quickly.
There she is. I press my lips together before croaking out one word.Mom. The weak sound has the impact of a starter’s gun going off, and she jumps up, rushing to my side.
“Andrew, I’m here, my darling boy.” The sound of my mother’s voice settles the panic pounding in my ears. My mouth curves in what I hope looks like a smile and not a grimace, but as everything about my body feels foreign at the moment, maybe my lips didn’t move at all. I don’t care though, as my mother leans down and kisses me on my forehead before squeezing my left hand. I return the pressure weakly, wishing I had the strength to do more when I see the tears coursing down her cheeks. My oldest brother and younger sister are flanking her. My eyes track to each of theirs since this movement seems to be the only one that doesn’t hurt. The concern on their familiar faces stabs me in the heart.
“What … happened?” I force the words from my mouth, desperately wanting to understand how I got here and why my body feels like I’ve had the crap beaten out of me.
My sister, the doctor in the family, speaks first. “Drew, you were in a car accident three days ago. Both legs and an arm were broken. Your arm is a clean break and in a plaster cast. However, your legs were pretty smashed up, and you needed a couple of operations to reset them with metal pins and plates.” My eyes never leave her face as she lays out my injuries one by one. When she finishes, I let what bits of the information I understood sink in.
My brother adds, “Basically you’re going to be okay. And just as pretty as before, once the cuts and bruises heal.” I force a smile to my lips. I appreciate his clearer words and attempt to lighten the situation. It’s been an old joke between us since we were teenage boys arguing over who was the favorite with the local girls. Aaron always won. All the girls preferred him to the Campbell brothers.
Thinking of Aaron, I grind out another word. “Aaron?”
My sister leans forward, patting my hand. “He’s just outside. I’ll get him for you.” I watch her disappear through the doorway and return shortly after, Aaron right behind her.
He stands awkwardly beside the bed. “Hey, old friend. You look like shit.”
A weak smile barely moves my lips. “Feel like shit.” Speaking really hurts. Actually, everything really hurts.
I just wish I could give them all more than a few grumbled words when I notice how weary they all look. They’re trying to mask their concern, but I can see in their eyes that they’ve been worried about me.
I have more questions about my injuries, but already, my eyes are feeling heavy. I know from injuries I sustained during my tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan that I need to rest, let my body heal. It’s familiar territory, although this feels worse than anything that happened to me when I was on active duty in the SAS.
Chapter five
Drew
It’sbeeneightlongweeks of poking and prodding by medical professionals, constant noise, and the stench of antiseptic. Not to mention the buzzing of machines and the low drone of other patients groaning or mumbling twenty-four seven. Even at the rehabilitation center, the rooms held four beds, and all were occupied with other guys who were similarly broken and damaged.
Finally, I’m free from it all.
Aaron brings his Range Rover to a stop outside the small cottage perched on the clifftop overlooking the swirling white-capped sea far below. It’s a gloomy day, even though it’s the middle of spring. We both sit, staring out the windscreen. I let the wild natural beauty of the place sink in.
Aaron unclips his seat belt. “Damn, this cottage is isolated. Are you sure you’re going to be okay here by yourself?”
I turn to look at him. I can’t believe Aaron is asking that question. He can tell I’m pissed; we’ve known each other too long for him not to. I push open the door and let the salt crusted wind slap me in the face and cool the flash of annoyance.
