The door swings open. “Mr. Reigns, glad to see you awake, and with us.” An older man strides into the room with purpose. “I’m Doctor Hicks, how are you feeling,” he asks, his tone even, his body language indifferent. Despite making me feel like just another number, he also brings a calm with him.
“Peachy,” I grind out.
“Good. Good,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “So, you’ve see the air cast.” He nods to my booted leg. “You had to have surgery which resulted in metal plates and screws because you had a compound fracture in your Tibia, that’s the bigger bone in the lower part of your leg. You’ll make a full recovery, but you will always beep going through airport security.” He laughs, and I want to stick my booted foot up his ass. “You’ll probably feel uncomfortable across most of your body.” He looks over my form, and I want to shout, ‘No Shit Sherlock,’ but my jaw aches too much to talk unnecessarily. “You have two fractured ribs, a minor fracture on your jaw, and you’ve lost some teeth.”
What the fuck does some mean?
“You had a slight concussion which we monitored. It hasn’t given us any cause for concern, though.” He reels the words off like practiced lines in a play. “Of course, there’s bruising to a high proportion of your body as well as cuts and grazes, but you will survive. Physical therapy will be required for your leg. Time and patience will be needed for the rest of you.”
“Can you tell me about the others?” I whisper, my jaw resisting the movement.
“Others?” Dr. Hicks asks, his eyebrows dipping with confusion.
“I wasn’t alone.” I gingerly sweep my arm down my body as my voice trembles.
His head jerks back. “Oh… I can’t comment on the others. I’m sorry, patient confidentiality.”
I decide not to reply, partly because I’m in pain, but more so because I have nothing to say.
There’s a white clock on the wall, it’s ticking backward, or at least it feels like it is. I’m desperate for someone to arrive—Tarrant, my mom… Casper. I’ve been trying not to think about him, desperately trying, because every time I do, I stop breathing. I’m so scared, so damn scared he’s not okay. I remember the conversation my mom had with a nurse. I know someone died. What’s freaking me out is that I must know that person… I might even love that person.
“Caden…” The unmistakable deep growl pulls me from staring at my hands, which are entwined in my lap, to the figure in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
Tarrant stares back at me, his eyes calculating my state, concern lingering like a stalker. He has a scab forming over his eye and a slight bruise on his right cheekbone. Apart from that, he looks perfect, unharmed, and I loosen a little of the imaginary rope constraining my body.
He moves slowly to my bed, pulling the chair alongside it out, and turning it to face me. He sits, studying my face.
“Tell me,” I croak out, cupping my aching jaw. I know by now I must need some meds, but right this moment—when he tells me what happened—I need the pain to exist, I need it to cling to.
Tarrant winces at my voice and obvious pain, but he nods in understanding. With no words or explanation, my brother automatically knows what I need.
“Someone saw you at the field.”
I frown but remain silent.
“Seems the group that tracked you down… that did this…” He tugs at his hair. “They were Tim, his brother Todd, and some friends from their new college. The same one we played football against the day before.”
My eyes widen, and Tarrant clamps his jaw shut, grinding his teeth.
“They were in old man Potts’ diner. A local went in, and apparently old man Potts was talking to his wife about you not being on the team anymore. The local piped up that he’d seen you over by Archers Field taking photos.” Tarrant shrugs. “Guess that was all Todd needed. Opportunity. He grabbed his buddies and went to find you.”
“You came,” I whisper.
The muscle in Tarrant’s check jumps more than once as he contains himself, and his emotions.
“Aaron called me.”
My stomach clenches. “What?” I murmur.
“He called me. Said he’d just had a call from Tim. Apparently, after what happened the other day, they expected him to fall in line with them, to join in. Instead, he called me, explained they were going after you, apologized about a million times until I told him to shut the fuck up. Shit!” Tarrant rubs the back of his neck, and I want to shake him, I want him to get it out. “Damn near crying he was. Couldn’t believe what he’d done to you. Said he was going to make things right.”
I feel tears burn in my eyes. Aaron was always a good guy. I’m not sure what has kicked him off his path over the last few months, and no matter how pissed I was about what he did the other day, I also know that wasn’t him. Not even a little bit. I’m pleased he chose the right path, that he basically saved my life. I know I’ll forgive him, and thank him and I’ll mean every word.
“I saw Casper turn up.” The wobble in my voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Tarrant.
“I called him while I was on my way to the field. I wanted to make sure you weren’t with him. That Aaron was legit. To be honest, I already knew in my gut Aaron wasn’t lying, but I needed to do something on the five-minute drive. It felt like five fucking hours, brother.”
“So Casper… is he okay?” I almost don’t want to ask, but I have to know.
Tarrant lets out a
