Page 12 of Unmasking You (Hidden Hearts #1)
Chapter 11
Jamie
Present day
The beeping of the machine is the only sound in the otherwise silent room. The space is filled with the smell of antiseptic, probably used to disinfect the various cuts on Shane’s face, and I suspect there are so many more on his body hidden by the covers.
Every time my eyes close, a beep from the heart monitor wakes me up. Every time I leave my uncomfortable chair to check on Shane, he remains stubbornly asleep. My only relief is that he’s still breathing.
When it’s not the beep of the machines, it’s the nurse on shift coming in every couple of hours to check on Shane and to wake him up to give him medication. He seems out of it most of the time, and his answers are not always comprehensible, but at least he’s waking up.
I tremble at the memory of him lying unconscious on the road.
They’ve assured me he’s not dying. That was so much of a relief that I sobbed like a baby. They also said that he was awake but confused for a few moments. He had dislocated his right shoulder and broken his right wrist. He’d also sustained an injury to his left leg as well as a concussion, but they’re keeping an eye on his vital signs to make sure he doesn’t go into a coma.
They said Shane was lucky because it could have been so much worse. I believe them since I thought he was dead when I saw him flying up and over the car.
I go back to my chair, keeping my eyes focused on the body beneath the sheets and the rise and fall of his chest, the only sign he’s alive.
The memories of our past, the one I try so hard to forget, and the more recent memory of the accident overlap whenever my mind is not focused on Shane. It’s as if my mind is trying to remind me of the mistakes we made.
He hurt me so badly and so deeply. It was like he’d ripped my heart from my chest, thrown it to the floor, and stomped on it. This man, though… he’s the person who risked his life to save my dog, and the two faces of Shane, one past and one present, are not adding up.
I want to remain cold and unaffected. I want to stay angry at him. I don’t want to forgive and forget; that’s an impossible task. I will never be whole again, and it’s Shane’s fault. Everything I suffered haunted me for months, years, and it’s still haunting me today.
Ten years, and he never reached out before. He never asked for forgiveness. He never asked how I was or how I am. It seems like we have a different version of the past we shared. How can he forget that what we once were died the day he pushed me away?
The rift cannot be mended; there is no pride to be soothed. There is only fear. A fear that has created cracks too deep and too jagged to be fixed.
But here I am… waiting for him to wake up.
I’m itching with the need to reach out to him, to take his hand in mine, to give my strength to him so that he can wake up and heal. Because when he does, I can leave and go back to a life where he’s not part of it.
I wait for his eyelids to flutter or his fingers to twitch, but he remains trapped inside his dreamless sleep.
I give in to the need to touch him and reach for his hand resting motionless on the white sheet. He’s cold to the touch, and my heart tugs inside my chest, worrying that he’s in pain.
“Shane…” I whisper, but I can hear the prayer, the plea in it. “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. If only I’d made sure the leash was secure. If you come back, I swear I’ll listen. I may not be able to forgive you, but I’ll listen.”
His fingers move inside my grip, and tears fill my eyes.
I want to, but I can’t ignore the small smile filling my lips and the sense of relief at the thought that Shane is going to open his eyes soon.
The ringing of my phone pulls me from sleep, and the light in the room makes my eyes hurt. I closed them for a minute, too tired to keep them open with my will.
Shane is still asleep, and he looks worse than he looked last night. His face is a canvas of green and purple spots, with red cuts and scrapes caused by hitting the asphalt.
I sit up, grunting because of the uncomfortable position I spent the night in. I place my elbow on my knees and keep looking at Shane.
He’s still sleeping. At least, I hope that’s what he’s doing. He looks pale and fragile under the sheets. His features remind me of the boy I once admired and loved… It pains me to admit it even now, and I only admitted it once before…
I shake my head because I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to twist what happened or make it less traumatic—or less painful—only because he’s lying in a hospital bed, and it’s my fault he’s here.
A groan fills the room, bringing my attention back to Shane, my thoughts forgotten as I watch his eyes flutter. My breath stops and only resumes when his eyes open after a couple of blinks. He looks around, confused, until his gaze lands on me, and then, his eyes wet with unshed tears, he speaks.
“Jamie…” His voice is weak, and hoarse, and way too quiet to be creating a storm inside me.
For a moment, I can’t speak. I’m only able to bring oxygen into my lungs. The years of hate, of wanting him—and them—to suffer like I did, and the anger all come rushing back, burning inside my chest.
“I’m sorry…” he says, trying to reach out to me, but his body goes against his will, staying obstinately still.
“How are you feeling?” I ask and then lean over to press the button to call the nurse. I’m glad he’s awake, but I can’t have a discussion right now. I know myself, and I’d be agreeing with everything he says because he’s hurt and it’s my fault.
“Like I’ve been hit by a car.” His face is serious, almost as if he truly doesn’t remember that’s what happened.
I turn to the door, hoping for the nurse to come back and check on him. I’m seriously afraid he hit his head too hard, and he doesn’t remember what really happened.
“I’m sorr—“
I’m relieved when there’s a quick rap on the door before it opens and a man in a white coat comes in. He’s an older gentleman with grey hair and bright, kind eyes.
“Mr Campbell, how are we feeling?”
“I’ve been better.”
“I’m sure you have. How is your head?” The doctor continues to ask questions while he checks Shane’s eyes and his vitals.
All the while, I sit on the chair, trying to focus my attention on what’s being said, but my attention goes back to Shane every time he hisses in pain.
“We are very glad you’re back with us. We were all worried. Especially your partner here.”
I blush under Shane’s scrutiny and look away, ashamed to admit what I did.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s okay, but it was a serious accident. We’ve reviewed the tests we did yesterday, as well as the scans, and the recovery will be a long one.”
I let out a shuddered breath at what the doctor is insinuating. From what he’s saying, it’s clear that Shane could have died yesterday.
“We’re keeping you in for a couple of days so we can monitor you and make sure there are no complications. Concussions are nothing to joke about, and you’ll need rest and to avoid strenuous activities, as well as anything that could exacerbate your head injury or cause another one.”
“Okay, doc. I’ll be good. I don’t want to make my partner worry.”
This side of him reminds me of the man I met at the charity event, the man I allowed to kiss me when I usually hate being touched.
“Good. We’ve put a cast on your wrist and leg, and we immobilised your shoulder. We hope the bones heal correctly and you won’t need surgery, but you may need physiotherapy to get back to a full range of movement.”
The more the doctor talks, the worse I feel. I wanted him to suffer, but now that he is, it’s not giving me the satisfaction I thought it would.
“Your wrist and leg will take between six and eight weeks. Your shoulder will take a bit longer, between eight and twelve weeks. Avoid placing weight on it or doing any lifting with it, especially during the early stages of the healing process.”
“What about the concussion? My head feels like it’s splitting in two.”
“That could take anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. No screen, bright lights, or loud noises for the next week.”
“When can I go home?” Shane’s voice is now serious, as if he’s understanding what jumping in to save Queen has done to him.
“We’ll keep you in for a couple more days, but it’ll depend on how well you’re doing. We need to make sure you’re stable and your pain is manageable.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” I say, watching Shane. He closes his eyes, and his face goes pale.
I start to reach out to him to take his hand, but the doctor continues.
“Once we discharge you, you’ll need someone to help you out. But I’m sure your partner will be able to help and I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you back home. You gave him quite the scare, so please be a good boy for a while,” he says to Shane and smiles at me. I want the floor to open up and swallow me so I can leave this mortifying situation.
What the heck was I thinking when I told them I was Shane’s partner?
“I’ll see you tomorrow, but in the meantime, for any issues that arise, please press that button and the nurse will be with you,” he says, pointing at the call button.
When he leaves, the room becomes silent, and I wonder if Shane has fallen asleep again. I lean back in the chair, forcing my brain to find a solution that doesn’t involve me taking care of Shane for the foreseeable future.
“My partner…” Shane says, opening his eyes at the same time and looking directly at me.
Hope and something else I can’t decipher fill his eyes, and I can’t do this. Even if he saved my dog, we are not friends, and we never will be.
“I need a coffee,” I say, walking to the door and stopping whatever is coming out of Shane’s mouth.
“I’ll see you later, darling,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear it, even people in Japan.
I glare at him and then close the door, but before I do, I don’t miss the wink he sends my way.
I try to stop the smile spreading across my face, but I can’t keep the relief blossoming inside my chest at bay.
After I get my coffee, I need to stop this nonsense. There is no way I’m taking care of the person I hate the most. I said I would listen to what he had to say, not look after him for weeks!