Whispered Desires

Chapter 22: Purgatory

KILIAN

She doesn't leave.

This woman just sits here day and night like she owned the entire damn hospital. It's been five days, and she only leaves this room when Hayden and Mila are here. She usually comes back freshly showered and with new clothes before she settles back in that uncomfortable-looking chair.

She even takes notes on everything the doctors say, like she needed to keep a record of the shit my body goes through right now. To be honest, I've lost count of everything they discovered in the first twenty-four hours after the accident. I can't even recall the injuries and fractures and contusions they diagnosed; not that I gave a damn. I know this is serious. Being a wide receiver in the NFL meant going to work with bruised ribs and dislocated shoulders without thinking twice, but getting tackled then wasn't as painful as this shit is right now. Granted, this wasn't a two-hundred-pound cornerback trying to stop me on the field, this was a full-on pickup truck crashing into me.

I guess that's why I can barely move my legs, why I feel like a blanket of rocks covers me entirely. Every movement I make hurts like hell, even days after this shit show went down.

"...going home tomorrow, if everything goes well." The doctor's words make me focus on the situation at hand again.

"Home?" I ask, glancing to Hayden and Jasmine, who are listening intently to every word my physician is telling them.

"Yes, Mr. Rogers. I just told your friends you might be able to go home tomorrow if your blood results are fine." He nods, flipping through the thick chart in his hands.

Fuck, that's the best news I've heard all week. I can't wait to get out of this shithole, to finally get some peace and quiet. I always hated hospitals, even though I should be used to them by now with all the visits my job caused. "Well, that's good news..."

"It is. As long as you have someone looking after you, you should be fine."

With one sentence, that asshole of a doctor diminishes every ounce of hope I just held onto. "What exactly does that mean?"

"It means you shouldn't be alone right now, you know how limited your mobility is at the moment. You might need help with everyday tasks."

"You mean I can't live on my own?" I want to smash this entire hospital into pieces from the mere thought of that. Ironically, I know I wouldn't be able to do that, I can't even switch the damn channel on the tv without feeling like my arm might fall off.

"You can stay with us, Kill. The guest room downstairs is still free and I'm home most of the time right now, anyway." Hayden steps closer to me, and I don't fail to notice how he wants to slap my shoulder but stops himself from doing so, his hand quickly disappearing inside his jeans pocket.

"If I may just chime in there for a second." The doctor shoots us a thin smile. "I've been doing this for a long time, and usually, it's a good idea to let the patient rehabilitate in his own home. The familiar surroundings help with recovery in more than one way. You can also let a mobile nursing service visit you or—"

"No. No way. I'm not some senile old man." I straighten myself up, trying to hide the pain running through my arms the second I put weight onto them. "No nursing service." I'm close to punching the doctor in the face for suggesting that at all. It's not like I'll be like this forever, I'll manage somehow until I'm back on my feet again.

"I agree." Hayden nods. "No way in hell will there be strangers running around in his home. I can be there, we'll figure something out." He runs a hand through his hair, the worry in his eyes as honest and blatant as ever. "Can you stay with Mila for a while?" He redirects his attention to Jasmine.