Rock Bottom (28 page)

Chapter Sixty-three

“You’re awake.”

He probably already realizes that, but I need to say it out loud. To hear him confirm that I’m not hallucinating.

“Pretty sure.” The corners of his tight lips tug upward.

“How are you feeling?”

Deep creases carve into the corners of his eyes and mouth. The pain evident in every one of his features squeezes my heart.

“Like death,” he groans and I lean into him, wanting to soak up his pain and make it my own.

“Elijah, I’m so sor—”

“Like I died.” His lips clamp down and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he’s trying to hold back a smile. “And went to heaven.” He releases the tension in his facial muscles and in a flash looks a million times better. “Because I must be looking at an angel.”

I just sit there, gaping at him, stunned into silence. Then his grin breaks out and I swat at his good arm. “You’re such an ass-hat!”

“Hey. I took a bullet for you. You could at least be nice to me.” The spark in his eye gives me the inexplicable urge to duck and cover as he ponders the situation. “A back massage, a few sponge baths, and I think we can call it even.”

I bury my face in my hand to hide my smile and force a groan. Clearly his smartass glands are in perfect working order. He must be feeling better.

“Where’d you go?”

I part my fingers to peek through. A lock of dark hair has fallen over his forehead and I abandon my hiding place to brush it away, marveling at the fact that this fine specimen of masculinity is mine to touch.  “How are you
really
feeling?”

Elijah’s shrug is lopsided with only one working shoulder.

“Like I got shot.” Some of his swagger fades away, making the strain in his eyes, the crease in his nose, the pinch in his brow all more pronounced. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Guilt sneaks back in. He got shot because of me. He’s in pain because of me. All of this is
because of me.
“I—”

“But I
would
do it again. That was my decision. You took responsibility for yours, now let me have mine.” If I hadn’t already given it to him, his crooked grin would have stolen my heart. “No way am I letting you douse my epic show of heroism with guilt and remorse. Don’t even try it, Princess. I was totally badass and I intend to take full credit for it.”

I don’t even know what to say to that, other than, “You
were
totally badass.”

His laugh is followed quickly by a wince, but I squash the accompanying regret.

“How long was I out?” He’s eyeing the window as though it may give him some clue. What he needs is a friggin’ calendar.

“Three days.”

“
Three
—whoa! Time flies.”

“Not really,” I grumble, but I doubt Elijah hears me.

His gaze has turned inward and I know he’s searching his memories, putting the pieces together. “What happened?”

“After you were shot?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty clear up to that point.”

So much has happened. It feels like years have passed. Lives have been restored. Lives have been destroyed. Lives have been
lost.
And yet, I haven’t done much more than sit in an uncomfortable chair.

I give Elijah a rundown of the latest news. He stays quiet through most of it.

“Damien?” the name rumbles through his chest.

“He’s . . . dead.” I don’t know if Elijah knows I’m the one who killed him or not. I’ll talk to him about it eventually, but it’s something I know I’m going to need help to get past. More than he can give me.
Professional
help. And this time, I intend to get it.

“And you?” He runs a finger along the strap of my sling until his hand finds mine. “How’s your arm?”

“It’s fine. Dislocated shoulder, that’s all.”

“That’s all.” A shadow crosses Elijah’s face though there isn’t a cloud in the sky. “You’ve been sitting around this room for the past three days, haven’t you?”

Give or take. “It’s not like I have anywhere else to be.”

“Alone?”

“No. Declan’s been here the whole time. He just ran out for food.” Speaking of Declan, I should probably call him.

“What about your parents?” He struggles to scoot up and I slide my one good arm under his one good arm to give him a boost.
What a pair we make.
“Have you talked to them yet?”

“Not yet. They’re coming, though.”

“When?”

My tongue runs over my upper teeth. I’ve been doing my best not to think about it all morning. “Today.”

“Today?” Elijah nudges me back and reaches for the corner of his blanket, tossing it off his lap. “Looks like I have perfect timing. As usual.”

“What are you doing?” He’s pushed me all the way off the bed and is squirming around, removing lead lines that are attached to his chest monitoring his heartbeat. The machine squeals and I hit a button to silence it.

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it at my place.”

“What?” I should probably be holding him down or something, but the sudden change in events is too confusing to react properly.

“Rylie, you’re not seeing your parents for the first time in months in some hospital room. And I fully intend to be there, so if you wouldn’t mind . . .” He reaches for me, but I hold my ground.

“Elijah, you can’t just get up and—”

“Watch me. I’ll call your dad and have him meet us at my apartment. We can—”             

“You have my dad’s number?” Of everything he’s saying and doing,
that’s
the one that stands out to me.
Go figure.

“Princess . . . I’ve spent more time talking to your father than you in the past year.”

“Oh.”
Duh.
“Right.”

Foregoing my assistance, Elijah swings his legs over the edge of the bed and attempts to stand on his own. A grunt is the only warning I get before his knees give out. I’m at his side in a blink. Chest pressed against his side, I wedge my shoulder under his arm and he gives me some of his weight.

“Thanks.”

My teeth grind in frustration. Helping him do something stupid was not the idea. “Be careful. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m alright. Just need a second.”

“Elijah, why can’t you just—”

“Kiss you already?” A grin eases some of the tightness in his face. “Because I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. Hold that thought.”

I hold it—
and him—
for another minute before he’s able to fully support his own weight and slips into the bathroom. I can hear the water running from where I position myself outside the door in case he needs me again. He must be using my toothbrush, or Declan’s, because his is still packed away beneath the bed.

“Done.” A few minutes later, he’s back and smelling minty fresh. “Now . . . where were we?”

Keeping his injured arm folded tightly across his body, he clutches as my waist, tugging me closer. The heat of his chest soaks into my palm and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart. Mine speeds up to match.

He nuzzles the side of my nose and the first brush of his lips is feather soft, as though he’s afraid of hurting me. But Elijah’s touch could never hurt me. All it does is erase the hurt. Banish the darkness. And replenish my soul.

My hand slides upward around the back of his neck as I press up onto my toes. I gasp at the warm slide of his tongue across my lower lip and he delves inside. My head spins. My stomach drops. And by the time he’s finished, my knees are definitely weaker than his. Swaying slightly, I catch myself against the wall.

Elijah’s grin is pure self-amusement as he heads across the room to the small closet where his jacket hangs. He appears to be moving better, but it doesn’t escape my notice the way his entire torso curls forward around his injury.

“You can’t just . . .
Argh.
”
What does he think he’s going to do? Walk right out the front door in nothing but scrub pants and a leather jacket?

His laugh is strained, but his dimples . . . those damn dimples . . . “Anyone ever tell you you’re cute as hell when you’re pissed?”

I give up. “You may have mentioned it.”

“Of course I did.”

I shake my head, resigned to watching him return to where his bed is and press the nurse call button. She’s going to spit fire when she comes in and finds him out of bed, but that’s
his
problem.

“Any thoughts on where a guy can get some clothes in this joint?” He examines his naked torso. I may or may not do the same. “The nurses enjoying the view or something?”

The bag Declan brought is under the bed, but I’m not about to tell him that.

“What can I—?” The same woman who was in earlier stops just inside the door. “Mr. Prince, you shouldn’t be out of bed. Your shoulder is—”

“Feeling fine. You have some first-class doctors here.” He throws in a wink for good measure.

“Well . . . yes. But your doctor said you need to—”

“Avoid being shot again in the near future. I’m all over that.”

“No. I mean yes, of course, but . . .” She looks to me for help, but I’ve got nothing.
Welcome to my world, lady.

“Mr. Prince,” she sighs, obviously realizing there’s no winning when Elijah sets his mind to something. “I must advise against it, but if you’d like to check yourself out against doctor’s orders—”

“Yes.” He points at the woman and graces her with one of his brain-melting smiles. “That is exactly what I would like to do. So if you could get me whatever paperwork I need to sign, I just need to find . . .”

He bends over to peek beneath the bed and spots the shopping bag. I’m too busy spotting his ass to hear the rest of what he says. I think the nurse may be on a similar state of distraction because it takes her a moment to recover before she scurries from the room.

“Are you checking out my ass?” He doesn’t even bother turning around when he asks.

“Absolutely not.” Fire erupts in my face as I turn to peer out the window.

I don’t hear him coming, but a single arm wraps around my waist and a heavy head rests atop mine. For a moment we both stand quietly, taking in the boring view. A weary breath rustles my hair. Then he presses a kiss to my temple and I feel him smile. 

“You were totally checking out my ass. But that’s okay. I check out yours every chance I get.”

***

I’m in the process of tidying Elijah’s room when Declan returns with two white paper bags and a couple of sodas. Two people confined to a limited space for an extended period of time can make a hell of a mess. There are snack wrappers from the vending machines and empty soda cans and water bottles all over the place. Clothes, cards, books, and one impressive sketch of the view outside the window. I glance at Declan, wondering if he’ll want to take it with him, but he and Elijah are engaging in some kind of one-armed, back-thumping, man hug.

I move into the bathroom to afford them some privacy and start collecting my dirty clothes from the floor. Several items from Elijah’s wardrobe and, at the very bottom, the bloody leggings and sweater I got from Damien. I have no desire to salvage them, but I pick up the sweater and shake it out, examining the last remnant of the life I’m putting behind me.

Something catches my eye as it flutters to the floor, landing beside the shower. I stuff the sweater in the trash along with the leggings and stoop to retrieve the fallen item. Snatching it, I turn my hand over and open my fingers. A tiny baggie of little round pills sits in the palm of my hand.

I back up against the door and shut my eyes in a laughable attempt to erase the temptation. My parents are coming. They’ll be here in a matter of hours and I’ll have to face them. They know everything. Everything I’ve done. Everything I’ve become. They’ll be so ashamed. So
disgusted.
I’m not sure I’ll survive it.

My hand fists so tightly that the pills dig into my palm. It would be so easy.
Crush it and snort it.
And all of my worries would just float away.

Sometimes life can change so gradually that you don’t even realize it’s happening until you look in the mirror one morning and no longer recognize the person staring back at you. And other times, there’s a single moment that you can point to and say, ‘that’s when everything changed’.
This
is that moment.

I have a choice to make.

From this moment forward, who do I want to be? Not who will I be tricked into being. Not who will I be forced to be. Who do I
want
to be?

The girl who hides from her problems? The coward who always takes the easy way out, careless of who she hurts in the process? The failure? The disappointment? The addict?

Or the girl who’s strong enough to face those problems without the drugs? The girl who knows that, no matter what, there are people who love her and will be there to support her? The girl Elijah believes me to be? His superhero? His
princess
?