Page 7 of Tone Deaf
My heart aches at the sight of this beautiful, sweet man, unconscious and injured. Even though my trepidation about his feelings for us is a warning to check my emotions, my affection for the bass player grows stronger every time I’m with him. I just wish I knew what was going through Callum’s head when he left us and if he’ll ever want to be with Dom and me.
“Jesus.” I walk over to the left side of the bed, while Dom moves to the right. We each tentatively touch a hand. “Who in the hell could have done this to him?” I look to Dom for answers.
“I don’t know, babe. But fuck, I promise you I’ll find out who’s behind Callum’s attack.”
“If you two are going to remain in here, you need to be quiet and stop swearing. We have sick kids that can hear all this. You’re talking loudly, and it isn’t helping them or their parents.” A male nurse stands by the curtain. Despite being shorter than Dom and me, the glare he levels at us is fierce. “Now, I need to take Mr. Fitz’s vitals, so please stand aside.”
“You know who we are?” Dom’s pointed glower at the nurse is equally stern. My eyes drop down to the name badge clipped to the nurse’s dark blue scrub shirt. It reads Lyric.Unusual.
“I do.” Lyric lifts his chin in defiance.
“Then you know who he is,” Dom pushes.
“I do,” Lyric repeats, his unnaturally blue—almost violet, almond-shaped eyes home in on Callum. “He’s the bassist for the rock band, Warrior Black. I’m a fan.”
“Then, you know what happened to Mr. Fitz, and why we have to take extra precautions on who comes in here,” Dom explains firmly.
“Yes.” Lyric’s jaw tenses as he shifts the electronic note book from his right arm to his left. “But that’s not my call. You need to take it up with the head charge nurse and the head of security.”
“A call has been made. But I want to be perfectly clear with you, until Mr. Fitz leaves this hospital, you are the only nurse that will be able to enter his room.”
“But…” The nurse’s eyes widen in surprise, then narrow seconds later. He’s not happy to hear that order. “I need to talk to Mrs. Gavin, she’s in charge.”
“That’s fine,” Dom continues, not caring if the nurse likes his command or not. “Now which doctor will be tending to Mr. Fitz?” Dom’s eyes never waver from Lyric’s face.
“Dr. Monroe is on staff in the emergency room,” he says, then adds, “Now, can you let me do my job?”
Dom glances at me, nods and then we both step away from the bed. We watch the nurse as he checkmarks his name on the dry erase board on the wall. He then looks over Callum’s IV and the fluid bags—and the lines that connect to Callum’s arm, and then taps something on his electronic pad. After Lyric registers the blood pressure, he adds more notes.
“We would like to talk to Dr. Monroe,” I say evenly. There’s no need for me to be demanding, since Dom is doing enough of that. Lyric starts shaking his head, but I cut him off. “Reason being, in the next few hours, this emergency room will be inundated with more security and the rest of the band. Trust me, you would rather have us give them the diagnoses in the waiting room than have them badgering you in here.”
The nurse sighs in resignation. “Give me five minutes.”
“Thank you,” I say with a smile.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a beat. I’m not sure if Lyric realizes how hungrily he’s staring at me. There’s a sudden heat at my back, and the nurse’s eyes shift to Dom behind me, before he spins around and leaves.
I turn my head and smirk. “Jealous?” I ask huskily.
“Want me to be?” he says before nipping at my ear. “It’s okay that he appreciates you from afar, as long as there’s no touching what is mine.”
“That’s not fair.” Callum’s croaky voice has Dom and me whirling around and rushing to the bed.
“Hey,” I say, and gently take Callum’s hand.
“What happened?” Callum asks as he slowly moves his eyes around the room.
“Don’t you remember?” Dom asks as he leans in and kisses Callum’s forehead.
Callum tries to shake his head, but groans in pain from the movement. “My brain hurts.”
“I bet it does,” Dom says softly. “Someone attacked you.”
Callum becomes so still, as if moving would bring about the apocalypse. The hand I’m holding tightens into a vise before he says, “I don’t—Yeah… I remember something now. A guy attacked me.”
“You didn’t see his face?” I ask softly.
“No, I didn’t see who. At least I think I didn’t—I can’t remember. Everything in my head is a blur.”