Don't Mask, Don't Tell

Chapter 45

The pungent smell of bleach forces my heavy lids to spring open. I slowly blink away the blurriness, attempting to take in my surroundings as repetitive high-pitched beeps ring through my ears.

Well, that's a good sign. I'm still alive.

The bland walls and machines become clearer, confirming my growing suspicion. My gaze swivels around the hospital room. How long have I been here? I take in a deep breath and immediately regret it. My lungs fight through a burning sensation and I close my eyes to distract myself from the excruciating pain.

The memory of the night hits all at once. The cartel. Them chasing us. The headlights.

Where's Eliza?

Grabbing hold of the cold, metal bed rails, I pull myself forward. The call remote crashes onto the floor. Fuck. My arm stretches toward it, but the moment my finger tips graze the remote, the pain becomes unbearable. I barrel over, clutch at my chest, and scream out. Tears sting my eyes.

"What are you doing?!" A familiar voice shouts from the doorway. "Mia amica. You need your rest."

Tony races over and cautiously leans me back. The cool material of the sheets gently soothes my aching frame. He mumbles curses in Italian.

"What happened to me?" Every word is harder to get out than the one before. "The car hit us." I lick my cracked lips and a metallic tang assaults my tastebuds. I trail my fingers along my mouth. Red paints my skin.

"You reopened your lip." Tony grabs some tissues and holds them against the gash. "I need you to focus on breathing while I explain. Understood?" I bite my cheek and nod, trying to keep my increasing anxiety at bay. "The cartel hit your car. Mainly your side." His hand hovers below my chest. "You broke two ribs. One punctured your lung."

My eyes widen. I open my mouth in response, but Tony shakes his head. "Not yet. Keep breathing for me, hermosa. Slow, deep breaths. In and out." He tentatively rubs my arm, preventing my panic attack from surfacing.

"Mornin', sweetheart!" A cheerful redhead with a thick southern accent bounces into the room, interrupting us. She clutches her clipboard in one hand and ice chips in the other. The cup gets placed on my rolling table and she stops in front of the monitors while blowing a giant pink bubble and reviewing my vitals. "It's nice to see you awake again and more alert." She gives me a wink. "I've missed seeing those beautiful baby blues." The woman gives Tony's shoulder a squeeze on her way out. "I'll let Dr. Miles know that you're up. He should be in shortly."

"Thanks, Lee."

"Awake again?" I blurt as soon as the woman leaves.

Tony nods. "You woke up a couple days ago after your chest tube was taken out."

"Chest tube?!"

"Yes." He settled on the edge of the bed. "You might feel a little foggy for a bit from the concussion."

"Concussion?!"

"Jesus-Fucking-Christ, Tony!" Eliza bursts in, shaking her head. "I know Nurse Lee said only one of us in her room at a time, but I can't stay in the hall and listen to this train wreck any longer." My best friend rolls a suitcase in front of her, pointing at it with a bandaged hand. "And yes before you ask again, her bag is packed."

"Why is my bag packed? Are you okay? How long have I been out? Where's the security team? What the fuck is going on?"

"I'm sorry, Liv. Let me explain, since Tony's shit at it." He huffs in response, but makes room at the foot of the bed for her.

"I'm fine—don't worry about me." She twirls her hand in the air. "I really only have a few cuts and scrapes and some glass was embedded in this hand. The impact was primarily on the passenger side." She leans over, resting her bandaged palm just above my injuries. "You had a chest tube that inflated your lung after it collapsed, broken ribs, a mild concussion, glass in your arm, and a laceration in your lip that Dr. Miles stitched up."