Soft Shock (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

When they
arrived at the hospital, Owen dropped Marci and Jeremy off at the entrance to
the wing of where Ronnie was so that they could get to Ronnie as quickly as
possible. Owen went to find parking, and Jeremy and Marci went inside.

It wasn’t
difficult to spot Ronnie and her family in the waiting room, which had been taken
over by dark-haired Italian-Americans all trying to talk over each other. As
soon as Ronnie saw them, she ran over and hugged them both. Ronnie’s limp hair
was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing the same long-sleeved shirt and
corduroys she’d worn when she left the apartment Wednesday morning.

“I’m so glad
you guys are here,” Ronnie said. She stuffed her trembling hands into her
pockets. “I would introduce you, but everybody’s a little preoccupied right
now.” Ronnie nodded behind her.

“No.
Of course.
Don’t even worry about that.”

Ronnie yanked
her hands out of her pockets and swiped at the mascara smudges under her eyes
with a torn tissue. “It’s been a circus.”

“Is there any
word yet?” Marci asked. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s in with
an orthopedic surgeon now. It’s bad. He needs a whole team of ‘em. You know
it’s bad when the man needs a whole team of surgeons.” Ronnie tried to laugh,
and it ended in a sob.

Marci hugged
Ronnie close.

“Remember I
told you my uncle was in trouble for gambling?” Ronnie mumbled the words into
the shoulder of Marci’s parka.

“Yeah,” Marci
said.

Ronnie pulled
back a little and said. “It finally caught up with him. He disappeared from the
house the night before Thanksgiving. Next thing I know, we get a call about him
being here late last night. We sat around a damned table at my aunt’s house
complaining about the dumb Thanksgiving dinner getting cold, trying his damned
cell phone over and over again like damned fools and he was...they busted him
up good.” Ronnie swiped tears from her cheek. “He looks awful, Marci.”

Without
breaking their hug, Marci reached into her purse for a packet of tissues and
handed them to Ronnie. Ronnie thanked her and clenched the packet in her fist.

“They broke
both his arms,” Ronnie said. “One of his legs was so mangled it had to be
amputated. And they still felt it was necessary to shoot him. The bullet was just
inches from his spine. God, Marci.” Ronnie shook her head. “I can’t even…it
took me hours to get myself together enough to call you.”

“Does he have a
good neurosurgeon?” For once, Marci’s mind went to her mother in a crisis.

“One of the
best, they say.”

“Do you want me
to have my mom talk with your uncle’s neurosurgeon?” Marci asked softly.

Ronnie shook
her head and smiled. “No, don’t bother her. But thanks.”

“It’s no
bother.”

“Really, it’ll
be okay. I really appreciate you offering, though. So much.” Ronnie squeezed
her tighter.

When Owen came
in, Ronnie hugged him as well and thanked him for driving Marci and Jeremy up.

“Of course,”
Owen said. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”

Ronnie nodded.
Jeremy stepped up next to Ronnie and gently loosened the packet of tissues from
her grip. Taking one out of it, he handed it to her. After shoving her old
tattered tissue in her pocket, she held the new one to her face. Jeremy held
the packet of tissues with one hand and put his other hand at Ronnie’s elbow.

Owen stood next
to Marci. She looked over at him and saw that he was looking at his brother
with a pensive little frown on his face.

“Ronnie!” a
woman more buxom than Ronnie even shouted. She was holding the arm of a tall,
guy with short, spiked hair who looked to be in his early twenties or late
teens. Well, she wasn’t so much holding him as he was dragging her along. “Get
over here and talk some sense into your brother before he gets himself killed!”

Ronnie lowered
the tissue from her face. “Duty calls.” She drew in a shaky breath. She started
to go over to her aunt and brother, and Jeremy headed in the same direction.
She gave him a curious look.

“You’ve been
there for me more than I deserve,” Jeremy said. “Now it’s my turn to return the
favor in any way I can.”

“My family is,
uh. Well, just look at ‘em.” Ronnie gestured to the raucous group spread out
across the waiting room, shoving and yelling. The nurses and orderlies cast
wary glances at them but seemed reluctant to come over and try to get them to
settle down. Two security guards hovered near the back of the room, looking
ready to pounce at any second. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’ll be right
back,” Ronnie said to Marci and Owen.

“We’ll be right
here,” Marci said.

Ronnie and
Jeremy walked over to Ronnie’s aunt, and Ronnie grabbed her brother’s shoulder
on the side opposite where her aunt was trying to wrangle him. Marci felt Owen’s
fingers weave through hers, and she squeezed them.

#

“We don’t have
to stay in the same room,” Marci said as Owen parked the jeep. He looked over
at her, eyebrows raised.

“I thought that
was the whole reason we’re not staying at Ronnie’s uncle’s,” Owen said. They’d
stopped at a roadside motel that was the closest thing to the hospital. They’d
left Jeremy with Ronnie back at the hospital. He refused to leave Ronnie’s side.
Ronnie had insisted Marci and Owen get some rest. Ronnie told them they should stay
at her uncle’s, but Marci didn’t feel comfortable with that because so much of
Ronnie’s family had set up camp there, and Ronnie wouldn’t be there. Jeremy
considered it his duty to stay, but Ronnie wouldn’t hear of all of them getting
no rest—especially Owen who’d driven all the way up there and would have
to drive them back home soon.

“It’s just…I
don’t know if we should…anymore.” Marci stared at the brick wall and the red
door with the room number 19 tacked to it in gold numbers straight ahead. She
could tell from the jeep that the gold was flaking off the dull gray metal
underneath.

“Is this
because of what I said earlier?” Owen asked. “Because I’ve felt this way for a while.
So what’s changed?”

“The fact that
I know.”

Owen laughed
softly.

“What?”

“Oh, just
the fact that I think you’ve
known for longer than just
today. In fact, I think you’ve been going out of your way to keep me from
saying it.”

“You’re
paranoid.”

“Hm. Am I?”

She looked over
at him, and all she wanted was to touch him.
To have him.
He held his arms out in front of him and stretched his back and cracked his
knuckles at the same time. He’d pulled off his jacket and tossed it in the
backseat when they’d gotten in the jeep, which left him in only a T-shirt from
the waist up. She greedily watched the muscles in his arm ripple as he stretched.

“I’ve spent way
too much time sitting today.” He yawned. “If you want separate rooms, I’ll get
separate rooms. But I have to get out of this seat.” He grabbed his fleece and
started to get out of the jeep, and Marci put a hand on his arm. His gorgeous
gray eyes went from her hand to her eyes.

She really
didn’t want to let go.
At least not yet.
He felt so
good under her fingers.
Too good.
“One last time,” she
said.

In answer, he
hopped out of the jeep and jogged to the office of the motel, which was in a
small, squat building that rested in the center of two long, low rectangular
structures that contained the guest rooms. He came back with one key, and she could
barely contain the pleased reaction she wanted to have.

The room was
pretty standard for a roadside motel. They opened the door to the smell of
defeat—a mixture of mothballs, cleaning supplies, and that smell that
settles into things that’ve been abandoned or neglected because they’re no
longer thought to be useful.

Owen kicked off
his boots and left them near the bed. Marci walked over to the stiff, dark
green drapes and pulled them aside to look out over the parking lot, which had
patches of dirty snow here and there and held a handful of cars that were
splotched with varying degrees of road salt, snow, or both. It was dusk, her
favorite time of day and especially when the sun was setting against a
snowfall. That was one thing she’d definitely miss about being out here when
she moved back to Cali—the sun setting on snow. The purples and golds cast
over the sky from the sun’s dying rays had a fiery, almost magical effect on
the snow-covered trees in the distance. They even lent
a
certain
softness to the otherwise not so pretty view of the parking lot
and interstate beyond it. It was a broken kind of pretty. She could definitely
understand and appreciate broken beauty.

Stepping back
from the window, she looked around the room. There was a king bed, a large flat
screen television that seemed out of place in the otherwise outdated furniture
scheme of the room, a nightstand next to the bed, and the dresser upon which
the television rested.

A tremor of a
smile reached Marci’s lips. “The Throne would fit right in here.”

“Yeah.” Owen
smiled briefly, but he didn’t seem interested in their usual banter that night.
He shrugged off his fleece and tossed it onto an armchair near the bed on his
way to the bathroom.

This place was
fabulous as far as cheap roadside motels went, and Marci had a certain fondness
for them as she’d had some good times in more than a few of them.
Especially during some of her wilder college road trips.
The
bad art on the walls depicted wildlife scenes—deer, ducks in flight, all
the standard stuff. The heating unit attached to the wall under the windows at
the front of the room made a loud rattling noise. The garish red orange carpet
needed a good shampoo. The place had an overall crusty atmosphere that gave it an
odd sort of broken down charm. She discovered when looking to plug in her phone
charger that most of the outlets were broken.

Marci found a
working outlet in the bathroom, which was all rust and discolored porcelain,
the effect much more glaring than it otherwise would’ve been under the
flickering fluorescent track lighting in there.

Back in the
bedroom, she pulled back a stiff green comforter that was decorated with large
pink flowers to reveal over-starched cheap white sheets.

“You wanna get
dinner or anything?” Marci asked.

Owen rubbed a
hand over his face. “I’m really tired. You can get something if you want.” He
unbuckled his belt, pushed his jeans down, and then slung his belt and jeans over
the rickety armchair onto which he’d tossed his fleece earlier. The chair had a
big rip in the upholstery down its center.

“I used to love
places like this,” she said. She was about to tell him about some of her
crazier college road trips when she looked over at him and saw that he really
did look so very tired.

No matter what
he said about his admission not changing anything, things were clearly no
longer going to be the same. They could never go back to what they had. She’d
told herself this had to be the end, but she so wasn’t ready to give him up.

This one night.
She needed this one last night.

Walking over to
Owen’s side of the bed, she put her arms around him and rested her head on his
chest. Slowly, his hand came down to the center of her back. A moment later, he
wrapped both arms around her and held her to him.

She realized
that she was a little shy around him. That didn’t seem right, but for some
reason, she couldn’t reach up to draw his lips to hers the way she normally
would. She still hadn’t so much as removed her parka even though Owen now stood
before her in only a T-shirt and boxers.

Owen unbuttoned
her parka, folded it neatly, and put it on the chair where he’d tossed his
jeans and fleece. Next, he unbuckled her jeans and pushed them down, waiting
for her to step out of them. When she did, he folded the jeans and placed them
on top of the coat. Next, he came for her sweater and continued the process
until he had her fully undressed. Then he held her to him, and his heartbeat
was the only sound.

“I’m sorry,”
she mumbled into his chest. He didn’t say a word, didn’t make a move, just
continued to hold her. She clung to him, eyes closed. She was already in
dangerous waters. If she went in any farther, she would likely drown. She knew
he wouldn’t want to hear it, but she hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way.

At first, she
thought she could handle this. She’d never expected what they had to be such a
soft shock to her sharp side. He’d infiltrated defenses she thought she’d built
up so well.

“I’m…” She
started but couldn’t finish aloud.
Afraid
.
She was afraid to want him beyond the physical. If she opened the floodgates to
all that need, all that crushing, all-consuming emotion, it could cause her
world to collapse whenever he inevitably decided to walk away. She would never
get to keep Owen forever. Happily ever after was strictly for fairy tales, and
she knew she would never survive Owen leaving her if she allowed herself to
open up to him the way he wanted her to.

She shivered
against him, and he tucked her under the covers. After ditching his T-shirt and
boxers, he joined her.

Afterwards, she
curled up behind him and said, “No more of this when we get back to Virginia.”

He pretended to
be asleep, but she was pretty sure no one could fall asleep that quickly. No
matter how good the sex was. She rested her chin on his shoulder, admiring his
sculpted and perfect arm. They lay on their sides, so only one arm was visible
to her.

It wasn’t like
she was oblivious to what a good catch he was. It was that she didn’t want to
catch or be caught by anyone. If she’d learned anything from her mother, it was
that marriage was a sham. She was better off being single, surrounding herself
with good friends, and finding better things to preoccupy her time than the
playing-with-matches game of romantic love. Romantic love wasn’t necessary. She
had the love of her friends, she had her success in school—she had lots
of other things to make her happy.