Spike (23 page)

A young guy with short dark hair, who I’ve never seen before, comes into view. “Mr Stone, I’m Doctor Bennett. You’ve had an accident and have been airlifted to Canberra Hospital. Can you tell me your full name, please?”

Hospital? No. No.
No.
What the fuck have I done?

“Your
name
please, sir.”

“Aidan Maverick Stone. What?”
What happened?

“You were in a motorbike accident. You’ve been unconscious for a while. We’ve got a neck brace on you until we finish our examinations. We’ve taken some bloods, and a urine sample, and have put in a catheter. We’ve done an ultrasound, which shows some bruising to the kidney, but we’re checking for blood in your urine to ascertain the extent of your injuries. We’ve done an X-ray of your leg, and lucky for you, no broken bones.”

“Who’s with me?” I ask.

“I’m here, mate,” Jones says as he comes into view. He’s not wearing his usual cocky smile. Thank fuck for that.

“Ring Eevie,” I order.

“I used your phone. She’s on her way,” he says. He’s wearing a Mr Serious face, something unusual for him. Surely it’s not that bad? Eevie doesn’t need this drama, but right now she’s the only one I want here. I need her. A deep ache runs through my body, pooling in my legs. I grit my teeth together as the ache deepens. I growl as I try to stretch my legs.

“No, no. Keep still, Mr Stone. You’ve done some damage to your right leg, but we’ll clean you up. You’ll need quite a few stitches. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jones leans in closer, and puts his hand on my shoulder. “What the fuck happened, cowboy?” He shakes his head and scoffs.

“I dunno, you tell me,” I say. I grind my teeth as my leg throbs in strong steady beats. It feels like blood is gushing from the wound.

“A rider stalled, and said you fuckin’ lost it into the nearest tree. Then you got thrown off the bike into the scrub.”

Oh. The arsehole that could barely put his bike in second gear.
Fucker.

“No wonder I feel like shit,” I say through clenched teeth.

“You should see the state of your helmet, Stone. Fucking disaster. What were you tryin’ to prove out there?”

I’ve been dealing with some fucked up shit, okay?

“I only know one speed: flat out.” And I’m not used to riding with a field like that. “The fucking track was insane,” I add.
And obviously I can’t dial down my competitive nature.

“Let me know when you wanna look at the GoPro footage from your helmet … that’s if it’s still intact.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind lookin’ at it myself.” Might explain what the fuck I’ve done.

“Mr Stone,” the Doc says from nearby. “First thing’s first; how about we give you something for the pain.”

Fuck yeah. It’d better be good, too, because it’s getting worse. I’ve never experienced anything like this. My body doesn’t even feel like my own. “Yeah, I need somethin’, Doc.”

“I’ll go back out to the waiting room, Stone. I’ve got some calls to make. I’ll give Mac an update. He wishes he was here, you know,” Jones says as he pulls back the curtain.

“Not much Mac can do for me now, mate.”

He nods, and closes the curtain after him.

****

* EEVIE *

From the second I heard a different voice speaking from Aidan’s number, I knew something was wrong. Jones. All he said was that Aidan had had an accident and that he was being airlifted to Canberra Hospital. I could barely hear him, with the whirling of the helicopter in the background.

My heart leaps to life, driving me into action. I throw on some warm clothes and jump straight in my car, breaking every speed limit along the way. When I finally reach the hospital, do you think I can find a fucking park? No. I have to park miles away. Slamming my door shut, I run for what feels like a decade until I finally reach the emergency department, and by the time I reach the nurse’s station I’m fighting to catch my breath.

“Aidan Stone … Where is he?” I blurt out between heavy breaths.

“I’m sorry, Miss, who?”

I take in a steady breath. “Aidan Stone … he was being airlifted here.”

“Brenda!” the plump woman calls out as she swivels her chair. “That rider here yet?”

I swallow the rising bile, that’s trying to escape up my throat.

“Yeah, he’s here,” a croaky voice calls out.

“Please, I need to see him.”

“You immediate family?”

“No, but …”

“If you’re not family, you’ll have to wait out here.”

No; I can’t sit still out here. I’m fucking going in there, whatever it takes.

“But … I’m his fiancée.
Please
. I need to be with him,” I beg. The woman rolls her eyes, and puffs her auburn fringe from her eyes.

“Oh, alright then. Just give me a minute and I’ll take you through.”

“Thank you.” I sigh. I step back from the counter, trying to will her with my mind to hurry up. Losing patience, I pace up and down in front of her desk. If anything serious happens in the next couple of minutes and I’m not there for him, I’m gonna lean across that desk and rip her fucking hair out.

“Hey … Eevie?” I swing around to see Jones, dressed from head to toe in matching black and white motorbike gear.

“Hey, Jones,” I reply.

He hands me a phone. “Here’s his phone.”

“Thanks,” is all I can manage.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he says, but the grave look on his face says otherwise. There’s not a trace of the smart mouth, or the cheeky smirk from when I met him in that bar. “I brought his backpack, too. Thought he might need a change of clothes.”

“That was sweet of you. Thanks.” I didn’t even think about clothes for him. I just got in the car and drove.

“Come on, love. I’ll take you through,” the woman behind the desk says. I don’t even give Jones a second thought. I follow the short woman in the pale blue top and pants as she takes me through two giant white doors, and weaves a line through a maze of beds. The smell is so distinct, a combination of disinfectant and dread, reminding me of my hospital visit earlier this year. Hospital is not the place I wanna be, and now Aidan is the one in trouble.
What the fuck has he done? What happened?

“Here you go,” she says, pulling back the curtains. His motorbike pants are caked in mud and cut to pieces beside the bed. My whole body slumps as my eyes rest on his head in a neck brace. My feet can’t carry me to his side quick enough. His eyes are closed, and he’s not moving. My heart pumps twice as hard, spreading the adrenaline through me. My head spins. I really need to keep it together
.

I stand as close I can, but am wary not to bump the mattress. I can’t speak. Too many questions want to come out. I’m jammed up.
What’s wrong with him? Has he damaged his neck? His spine?
Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. It has to be.

His hair is unruly, and dirt is dusted over his cheeks. His eyes gradually open, and he blinks a few times, focusing on my face.

“Aidan … it’s me,” I say, my voice quivering with every word.

“Who?” he says, blinking again.

Black and white specks prickle in crazy patterns in front of my eyes and my stomach flips over as I try and digest that one little word.

Who.

Oh God … he doesn’t know who I am. The love of my life and my soul mate doesn’t remember who I am. This is so much more than bruises and broken bones. This cannot be happening.

My vision blurs and the floor comes up to meet me.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

* EEVIE *

“Excuse me, Miss?” a female voice says softly as my shoulders rock back and forth. Something smooth and warm pats my cheeks. I slowly open my eyes, the bright light above temporarily blinding me.

“Shit! Eevie, are you okay?” Aidan says.
What the?

“You know who I am?” I ask as I pick my sorry arse up off the floor, a female nurse helping me to my feet. I lean over him, my eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah,” he says, and then bites down on his bottom lip.

“That’s not fucking funny, Aidan!” I shout, balling my hand into a fist and shake it in front of his face.

“I know. Sorry, babe. I didn’t think you were gonna pass out on me,” he says, frowning.

“Where are you hurt?” I snap.

“My leg mainly.”

I punch him hard in the upper arm. “Not funny!”

“Ouch,” he says, and lets out a low chuckle.

“Glad to see your sense of humour wasn’t affected.” I scowl at him, and breathe out heavily. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t exactly remember, but Jones said I hit a tree and got thrown off the bike.”

I gasp. “Fucking hell.”

“A tree branch went through the meaty part of my calf, just above my boot. They don’t know if it touched bone or not. Guess we’ll find out soon enough. They’re gonna have to clean up the wound first before they stitch me up.”

Oh God, that sounds awful. “Shit,” I mutter, taking it in. I’m still shaking from passing out. I can’t believe I did that.

“Oh, and there might be somethin’ wrong with my kidney. They took blood and stuff.”

I take his hand in mine, careful not to touch the tube sticky-taped to the back of it. The tube leads to a clear bag hanging off a tall metal pole beside the bed. My eyes come back to the monstrosity of a neck brace strapped to him.

I swallow the lump in my throat, and try to be strong. “You’ll be fine, baby,” I choke out.

“Have you got your phone?” he asks.

“What? My phone? What for?”

“I want you to take a photo of me.” A cheeky grin tilts the corner of his mouth.

“You want a photo of this? Are you sick?”

“Just do it, Eevie. I’m fine. I just wanna preserve the moment, you know, send it to some of the guys …”

Men. Or should I say,
boys
. Sometimes I just don’t get it. That whole battle-scar bravado.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, my hands slippery with sweat. “How hard did you hit your head?” I ask, before begrudgingly taking a photo. Unbelievable. At a time like this, this is what he thinks of.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Show me.”

I show him the photo, and he has a chuckle to himself.
Comedian.

A man wearing a pale-blue uniform walks in and stands beside me. He smiles fleetingly at me and unbuckles the neck brace from Aidan, slowly removing it.

“We can take this off. It was just a precaution until we checked you out. How’s the pain, now?” he asks, writing on a chart and slipping it through the railing at the end of the bed.

“I can handle it,” Aidan says.

Pain; how much pain was he in before? He seems to be managing okay.

“I’ll go see if the blood-test results are in. I’ll be back soon.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Aidan says, and the doctor pulls the curtain closed after him.

I let a long breath out and softly sweep my fingers through Aidan’s hair. “You know they weren’t gonna let me see you as I’m not immediate family, so I kinda lied and told them I was your fiancée.”

I wipe a stray tear from my cheek, a nervous giggle escaping my mouth. I was doing so well at keeping it together. “I … I know it was wrong to lie, but truthfully, I was ready to start throwing punches if they tried to keep me out.”

“That’s my girl. Ready to beat a harmless nurse half to death just to be with me. So sweet.”

The curtain pulls open and the doctor returns. “The news is good. There are small traces of blood in your urine, but it’s certainly not enough to suggest we need to operate.”

“Operate?” I whisper, searching Aidan’s eyes.

“Sweet,” Aidan says, like it’s nothing.

I pull a chair up to the bed, and hold Aidan’s hand. “Do you want to stay, Miss?” the doctor asks. “This might not be pretty.”

Surely I can just hold his hand and not watch?

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, nodding at Aidan.

He smiles, perhaps relieved that I haven’t bailed. How could I? I was the one in the hospital bed not all that long ago, and it was so much easier to cope with knowing he was with me.

“Okay, I’m going to roll you slightly onto your side, now, so we can clean you up.” The doctor helps him move, Aidan gritting his teeth as he takes in a sharp breath. Aidan’s whole body shakes, and he closes his eyes as his chest moves rapidly in and out.

This is not good.

The doctor moves a small chair on wheels behind Aidan and uncovers the sheet, revealing a hole the size of a golf ball, maybe bigger, where the flesh is mangled. I have to look away. That was not a good idea. I should’ve kept my eyes on Aidan’s.

“I’m going to inject some local anaesthetic into the wound, so you might feel a slight sting,” he says, as I watch him draw clear liquid into a syringe.

I swallow the acid rising in my throat and switch my focus to Aidan. He squeezes my hands tight in his. “Breathe, Eevie,” Aidan whispers and winks at me. He knows how squeamish I am about things like this, and my intense dislike of needles … and hospitals.

I nod and try to compose myself. Now is not the time for a weak stomach. I’m here for Aidan. He’s the one in pain, but right now I feel it too: the shaking, the deep dull ache in every part of my body. I’ve experienced pain before, but watching the man I love laying here in this much pain? I don’t know what’s worse.

It’s hell.

I wish he could blink the painful look in his eyes away. I want to hold him tight to stop the trembling. I wish we were home, snuggled on the couch, instead of here. Anywhere but here.

“Miss, if you pass out again, I’m going to finish stitching him up before I pick you up off the floor.”

“I’m fine. Sorry. Don’t worry about me, just do what you’ve gotta do.”

Aidan’s eyes drill into mine, and he squeezes my hand like a vice as I notice in my peripheral vision the doctor injecting his leg.

“How many laps of the track did you do?” I ask Aidan, trying to shift his focus.

“I think I was on my …” he says, and growls with his teeth together. “My third lap,” he finally spits out.
Oh baby, I just want to stop this. I want to make it better.