Page 56 of Your Sharpest Edge
“I wanted to call your mom and see if she could bring Damien. Do you want to see him?”
Damien. My son. I nodded.
“Let’s give her a couple of hours to really wake up so she can be at her best when she sees him again. Maybe your hunky boyfriend can give you a good old-fashioned sponge bath, too. What do you say?” the nurse asked with a smile.
I nodded in agreement.
But . . . boyfriend?
“Just a friend,” Alex said, squeezing my hand as if he could somehow read my thoughts.
The nurse leaned in and whispered softly, “Your friend has been waiting for you to wake up for a few weeks now.”
I blinked, trying to process her words as my vision cleared. The nurse had kind eyes framed by soft wrinkles that hinted at years of caring for others. Her short, curly hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, and she wore a gentle smile that exuded reassurance.
As the nurse stepped back, I took in more of my surroundings. The sterile smell of the hospital room mingled with a faint floral scent, possibly from a nearby bouquet. Thebeeping of medical monitors was rhythmic, almost calming now that I was more aware. It felt like someone had pressed a fast-forward button, bringing everything into sharp focus after what seemed like an eternity in slow motion.
“You feeling better?” She asked, and I nodded.
“So much better,” I replied hastily.
“Good. Even your speech is better,” she noted with satisfaction. She then rattled off a few instructions to Alex, who listened attentively, his eyes flicking to me every few seconds as if to reassure himself I was truly awake and okay.
As she spoke, I took the opportunity to study him more closely. His concern was palpable, but there was also a tenderness in the way he looked at me, a depth of emotion that spoke volumes.
Alex’s defined jawline gave his face a strong, chiseled appearance. He was dressed in black sweats and a gray hoodie, the casual attire contrasting with the tension etched across his features. His eyes, usually so vibrant, were dull with fatigue, and his brow was deeply furrowed with worry.
The nurse finally moved away, giving us some space, and told us she’d be back in a bit to check on the pain.
“I’m leaving it up to you to tell her,” she whispered, and Alex nodded.
“Tell me wha . . . ?” My speech slurred.
“Can I get a chair so I can sit next to you?”
“Is it bad?”
He nodded . . . slowly.
21
stassi
“Can you sit next to me? Kinda like we used to do at your house?” I looked over at the lack of room on the hospital bed and then back at him. “It’s probably too small.”
The corners of his lips turned into a soft smile. “We’ll squeeze. I sat here a few times when you were sleeping, the nurses told me it was okay.”
He walked to the other side of the bed, and I scooted over as far as possible without disturbing the monitors. As I tried to push myself further, digging my heels into the mattress, I suddenly realized that the sensation in my feet was gone. I looked down and saw my feet, but my brain wouldn’t register the command to move them. I tried to wiggle my toes... nothing.
Just as Alex came in next to me, he saw the panic written all over my face. My heart rate quickened as one machine beeped rapidly in the corner of the room.
“What’s happening? I can see my feet, why can’t I move them?” I asked frantically.
Alex looked down at where I was staring and sighed. “Do you remember the accident you were in?”
I nodded. “Dimitri, he was there in the hotel room, and he kept hitting me over...” Realization dawned on me when I realized he was hitting my legs. I sucked in a breath, not wanting to know the truth. “What’s wrong with me?” I asked—no begged.
Alex’s thick fingers came up to my face as he drew small circles on my temple, soothing my dull headache.
