Chapter 11
“I think she just blinked. Nadia? Sweetheart, can you hear me? Please wake up, sweetheart. God, baby, please wake up.”
“Give her time.”
“Will she be okay?” His voice was hoarse.
I couldn’t feel my body. It was numb . . . or broken? The only consciousness was that of my sluggish and addled brain. What kind of drugs did they give me? Do I only have a head left? Is that why I can’t feel anything else? How will I move? Oh, God, no more sex. I should have had sex with Caleb and Greyson when I had the chance.
“She’s whimpering. Is she in pain? Can you give her anything?”
“I’ll give her a little more. She’ll be out for a few hours.”
“Nadia, sweetheart, I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere. You’ll be okay, I promise.”
* * *
Where am I? I cracked my eyes open to darkness.
“Sweetheart?” a rough voice asked. “I’m here, baby. Can you hear me?”
I scanned the darkness.
“I’m right here,” Greyson said, squeezing my hand. “I’ll call for the doctor.”
“Wait,” I croaked.
“What is it, sweetheart? Here, I’ll press the call button,” he said. I felt him shift over slightly, still keeping his hand in mine.
“Dirt,” I mumbled.
“I know,” he murmured. “You’re safe now. Just relax.”
“No, my mouth tastes like dirt,” I rasped.
“Oh! There’s water here,” he said. “Can you sip from the straw?”
I struggled to lift my head. His hand pressed me down.
“Here,” he said, raising the bed into a reclined position. “I should have thought of that.” Worry and doubt saturated his voice.
“What happened?” I asked after taking a sip of room-temperature water.
He set the cup down and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. “I came outside and couldn’t find you. You were . . .” he choked.
“I fell,” I said, remembering the free fall.
His hand took mine. “I came outside and couldn’t find you.” He paused to kiss my hand. “God, baby, I’ve never been so scared in my life. I found your hand sticking out of a pile of dirt.”
“I hit a rock. I went to check.”
“Didn’t you set the brake? I shouldn’t have left you alone. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Someone . . .” I stopped as a nurse hurried in, flipping on the lights. I winced as electrical bolts zapped through my eye sockets.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, checking the blinking, beeping monitors and then my eyes.
“My head hurts.”
She nodded. “What about the rest of you?”
“I can’t feel anything.”
“You will. Believe me. Your vitals are good. The doctor will be in to you see you in a moment. I’ll get you some more water,” she said and hurried out.
“Do I still have a body?” I asked when the nurse left. “I can’t feel anything.”
Greyson’s hand smoothed my hair back, his liquid gray eyes brushed over me. “Yes. You’re heavily drugged. You’re bruised all over and you have a broken wrist, but the loose dirt protected you from serious injury.”
“There was someone in the cab.”
“There wasn’t anyone in the cab. It was an accident,” he soothed.
“There was. At first I thought it was you and you didn’t know I was down in the pond. But it wasn’t.”
Greyson stilled. “What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t an accident. Someone was intentionally trying to kill me.”
“Who was it?” he demanded. “Who would try to hurt you?”
“I don’t know. I saw hands moving the levers. They weren’t yours.”
“I know they weren’t mine, but how could you tell?”
“Your fingers are long and slim. I can pick out your hands from across the room. They weren’t your hands.”
He glanced at his hand still stroking my hair. “Did you recognize the hands or anything else?”
“No. I just know that it wasn’t you.”
His removed his hand. “I’m calling the police,” he said, pulling out his phone as a doctor walked into the room.
“How’s the patient?” the doctor asked in a hurried but good-natured tone.
“My head hurts, and I can’t feel my body,” I said, glancing at Greyson who was pacing in a corner with the phone to his ear.
“You will. Believe me.”
I eyed the doctor. “That’s what the nurse said.”
He gently held my arm and lifted it. “Do you see?”
My arm was wrapped in a cast. “Oh.”
“And not to mention this,” he said, carefully lifting my other arm.
Patches of blotchy bruises in a rainbow of colors dotted my arm.
“This is what your whole body looks like.”
“Oh, God, I look like a cow.”
He laughed and then quickly apologized. “I’m not going to lie, you’re lucky to be alive and with only bruises and a broken wrist. When I was told you had been trapped under dirt, I thought the worst. Luckily, your head wasn’t buried and you were still breathing. It could have been much worse.”
I could have died. The free fall replayed on an endless loop.
“When can I go home?” I asked.
“Stay the rest of the night and relax. We’ll do a few tests in the morning and then release you once we’re certain there are no complications.”
“But the cost,” I said, worried about how I was going to pay for a hospital stay.
“You’re already in bed for tonight. Relax and we’ll try to get you out without too much extra cost,” he said.
“Don’t worry about the cost,” Greyson said, returning to the bedside.
“But . . .”
“Sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. Please don’t worry about paying for anything, just worry about healing.”
I gave a nod. It was a wonderful and protective gesture, but I wanted to cry and yell and throw things. I wanted to succumb to a colossal temper tantrum. Why do these terrible things always happen to me? His soothing voice and caressing hands calmed my angry spirit.
Spirit.
I had to laugh. The gypsy and her ridiculous spirits were kicking my ass.