The Perfect Someday (A standalone novel ~ Book three in The Mathews Family) (22 page)

“Tracy.
Aprite gli occhi. Guardami
.” The accent broadened, garbling in the shadows of her mind.

Hands worked
feverishly over her body.

Again
, the blackness swallowed her consciousness.

“Open your eyes! Look at me!”
The voice boomed again in English, pleading with urgency.

The voice
sounded a world away in the distance, yet the hands touching her skin felt real.

Vincent.
Tracy thought she said it out loud, but no sound came from her mouth. She could hear the soles of shoes scurrying and scuffing against the wet stone steps beside her head. Vincent.

S
ubmerged in a distant darkness, far away from reality, terror ripped through her altered state of cognizance.

Am I dying?

Pa
nic grabbed hold of her sub-conscious, increasing her heart rate. The sound of her breathing became perceptively clear, faster and louder. Why can’t he hear me? Adrenaline surged through her veins plumping violently. Vincent! Vincent! Tracy screamed, but the compression of her voice stuck in her throat.

“Tracy.” His fingers brushed over her temple, clearing the hair from her face. “I’m right here. Open your eyes.”

Each limb felt like it was tied to the ground,
bound by heavy restraints, making her unable to move. Her breath came in laborious pants. She cried out, “Vincent?”

“Si`”
He recited a prayer, a plea of sorts. “Look at me.”

Her arms rose
, grabbling for him frantically. “Vincent?”

The
shadow blanketing her mind began to recede. Her vision blurred though a slick of hot tears. Unable to focus, she screwed her eyes shut and tried again. Tracy glimpsed a hazy outline through wet lashes, opening and shutting like windshield wipers during a torrential downpour.

Vincent filled her vision, a concerned look
was etched deep into the wrinkles on his forehead.

She couldn’t remember what happened.
Time jumped in her mind, losing bits and pieces to the blackness. Tracy had never been so scared in her entire life.

“Am I
alive?” she choked, touching him to make sure he wasn’t her imagination. Her fingers dug into the fabric covering his broad shoulders, clinging to him, questioning if he were real. Every inch of her body trembled violently searching for her perception of reality.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I’
ve got you. Lay still.”

“Where am I?”

Vincent enclosed his hands over hers attempting to peel her grip from his shirt.

“No!” s
he sobbed, pulling him closer in desperation.

Vincent’s eyes opened wide
, his face inches from hers, as he made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat. He spoke in a soothing tone, gently gripping her wrist and then coasting his hand to her elbow. “I just need to take my shirt off to cover you up. I’m not going anywhere. You need to be still.”

He stabilized her head on the step and
shed the long sleeve T-shirt over his head, draping it over her front.

The
dewy scent of saturated dirt filled each shaky inhale. She couldn’t think clearly. Paralyzed by fear, emotion-filled tears streamed down her face, soaking her hairline.

Endorphins kicked in,
and the heavy rhythm of deep inhales and exhales began to regulate. Tracy struggled to lift her head and pain shot through the base of her skull like an arrow. She instinctually reached for the back of her head, but Vincent caught her hand and rested it on her stomach.

“Just lay still for a minute.”

The back of her head hurt like hell, but overshadowing the pain was fear. Tracy had never been so frightened in all her life. She was in a foreign country, alone, days away from her family.

“Am I bleeding?” s
he whimpered through quivering lips.

“No, not on your head, but you were knocked out cold.” He kneeled over her, continuously
rubbing her arms as he talked. The touch of his hands never fully left her body, one would replace the other, keeping constant contact. “I don’t think anything is broke, but you probably have a concussion. And you’re missing some skin.” 

“I’m missing skin?” S
he sniffled a groan.

Bracing himself with one hand,
Vincent lowered his face to hers, cradling the side of her neck to check the pupils of her eyes for dilation. A clammy layer of perspiration chilled her to the bone. She covered his hand with hers, trapping the heat on her skin.

Another round of waterworks broke
from her throat. Her face crumpled and she linked her arm around his neck, bringing him closer. “Please don’t leave me.”

“You’re going to be okay.”
A hint of softness eased the worry wedged deep between his thick dark brows. “I won’t leave you. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Tracy lost it, crying in fits of sobs. Coming apart, she buried he
r face in the crook of his neck. “Hospital? Please no don’t take me there. I hate hospitals.”

Vincent spoke words of reassurance
, pressing his lips against the top of her head. Time moved in slow, pain filled minutes. He brushed long, inspecting strokes over each limb, assessing the damage. She curled her arms beneath his shoulders, holding to his solid frame for dear life.

After begging and pleading, he agreed not to take her to the hospital, but insisted she see a doctor. He made a phone call arranging for his famil
y doctor to come to the Levi’s Villa to examine the lump on her head.

The fuzzy haze cleared from her vision.
She eased into an upright position, taking her time, making sure all her parts functioned correctly. Every bone and muscle ached, including her ass. Tracy handed him his shirt, but quickly realized she was half naked. Her shorts had ripped clean off her on the right side. The cheek of her butt lost a good amount of flesh, claimed by the stone steps of the village. Vincent obligingly held the shirt open wide, shielding the view from his eyes, helping her pull the shirt over her head. It was so big that it covered her to her thighs

“
Seriously?” A long grumble of mortification whooshed from her lungs. She slowly climbed to her feet. “I was laying here half naked when you found me?”

A glint of a boyish grin flashed in his eyes.
“I didn’t see anything.”

“Oh my God
,” she groaned.

Vincent’s
grin faded and he averted his face. She blinked repeatedly, realizing she’d done it again.

“S
…sorry, I didn’t mean to s…say it. How did my shorts get ripped off?” Tremors possessed her words and movements.

Vincent eased his arm around her back, carefu
lly picking her up into his arms, and carrying her down the stairs. “I was running behind you when you fell. You must’ve heard me coming because you scooted toward the wall. The loose hem on your shorts hooked on the handrail, and bam, you went down hard.”

“So it’s all your fault?”
She sniffled, laying her head on his shoulder.

The strain of his bicep captured
her gaze. Tracy became very aware of how good he looked shirtless. A neat diamond patch of dark hair stretched across his chest, trailing downward over a six-pack of solid muscles. He was powerful beneath her form, carrying her with ease. Chill bumps rose on his chest, turning the dark flesh of his nipples taut. She wanted to touch him, to roll the tight tip between her finger and thumb. Her hand followed the hard slope of his collarbone and torso, rubbing over the goose bumps, sub-consciously admiring each indention of muscle as he carried her to his car.

Her snark
triggered a small sign of relief, and his profile softened. “You’re going to blame me for falling?”

Tracy nodded. Waterwor
ks flowed in a constant stream as the pain in her ass deepened. He opened his car door, but she attached herself to his neck, refusing to let go of him. He rubbed his hand up and down her back in a comforting fashion.

Cars never made much of an impression on her, but his black little sports car looked spotless and very, very nice. “I’m all grimy. Plus, I think I’m bleeding.”

“I’m not worried about my car.” He said, slipping her onto the leather seat.

Adrenaline still seized her
senses and she quivered pointing to her bike. “But, but what about the bike? That’s Lisa’s. I can’t just—”

“I’ll get it. Just sit still.” He lowered the back of her seat and shut the car door.

Tracy closed her eyes to the throbbing pain, listening to him adjust the bike on the rack of his car. They rode in silence, and concern etched in the stiffness of his jaw. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers around hers, gently squeezing.

A car waited
at the entrance to the Levi’s Villa. It followed behind them down the long drive. She attempted to decline Vincent’s assistance getting out of the car, but one arched brow hushed her complaints. He carried her to the garage door and she entered the security code.

The good doctor
was a little old man with thick grey hair. He stood shorter than Tracy and spoke no English, but gave her a universal thumbs up after examining the bump on the back of her head. He gladly inspected the abrasion covering her right butt cheek, leaving her a tube of ointment and a special dressing that wouldn’t stick to the skin.

Vincent translated
their conversation and was forced to recant several very embarrassing stories of Vincent’s youth. Vincent rolled his eyes as if he’d suffered through the same stories a dozen times. He escorted the doctor toward the front door. She could’ve sworn Vincent blushed when the doctor snickered counting on his fingers stating Watch her all night. No sleeping until bedtime. And no vigorous activities for a few days.

“
You need to scrub the abrasion with soap and water,” Vincent stated quietly joining her in the kitchen. “Which room is yours?”

She
frowned warily, wrinkling her nose and shaking her head. “I don’t wanna do it.”

Up until this point in her life, Tracy
remained blissfully unaware of the pain caused by road rash. She watched her brother John suffer through it after taking a few significant spills while cycling. Taking one look at the remorse covering his face, Vincent knew how excruciating this was going to be. Tracy rose to her feet, securing the torn pieces of the silky material of her shorts in her fist so they didn’t fall off.

“Let’s get you in the shower.”
He assisted her down the hall, stopping outside the bedroom. She could only nod, giving him permission to come in her room. He helped her into the bathroom and started the shower. “Can you get undressed?”

“I think so.”
Her quiet voice resonated against the large marble tile.

“I’m going to wait right here.
” He nodded toward a chaise at the foot of her bed. “I’m leaving the door cracked, just yell if you need help or if you start feeling faint or nauseous.”

The
warm water brought relief to her aching body, until the spray reached her raw skin. It hurt so badly she could scarcely breathe. She winced standing under the rain head of water, waiting for the stinging and burning to subside. Her shoulders pulled upward, gathering tension in her neck and shoulders, setting of another dull ache near the lump at the back of her skull.

Tracy whimpered
washing the sweat and grime from her hair and body, praying the burning sensation would feel better in a minute. The pain only intensified. Missing pieces of frayed skin was not the only problem. Small rocks and pebbles lodged into the open abrasion. Each pass of her hand over the flesh brought another dry sob from her throat.

Nausea rolled in her throat.
She backed away from the spray of water taking several deep breaths, filling her lungs with oxygen. It hurt so badly that tears freely flowed.

“Vincent?”
she called in a shallow whimper.

His shadow moved outside the frosted shower door. “Si`. Are you okay?”

“I…I have a problem.” She sniveled, pulling a large white towel over the stall and gingerly wrapping it around her body.

Tracy slid the door open
, crying as she stepped out of the shower. Concern splashed across Vincent’s face.

“
I have rocks stuck in my ass.”

“Awww. Come here, don’t cry.” Vincent
hauled her close, settling her outpour.

“I hurt
all over. I feel silly crying like a baby, but what the hell? I have rocks stuck in my butt.”

A
vibration of laughter shook in his chest beneath her cheek.

“Who does this happen to?”
she questioned mockingly. He eased her away from his frame as his fingers made a pass over her wet face, wiping her tears. She continued her rant through a deluge of snivels. “Oh and I’m naked! I mean really? If I’m going to be naked in front of you, I could think of much better reason than rocks in my ass!”