Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
I imagine the life we could have together, spending days and nights making love sweetly or makeup sex after a big argument. Riding through the desert on the back of his bike. Hanging on his arms at biker bars, knowing that all the bitches envy me for having a fine biker man like Joaquin.
It’s a nice dream, more like a fantasy, but my entire body is on fire, and the fucking incessant beeping keeps invading my fantasy.
“Nurse! Doctor!” I hear Joaquin’s voice laced with fear as he shouts for help. I wish I could reach out to him, tell him not to waste his breath calling for help because it’s useless.
I’m dying. Goodbye, Joaquin. Goodbye, Mom.
I embrace the inevitability of death, and my mind drifts away to a place where Joaquin and I are together, happy and in love.
Waiting for death to claim me.
Chapter Twenty
Joaquin
“How is she?”
Screw niceties. I don’t have time for them when I arrive at the hospital for visiting hours, just as the surgeon approaches me with Nova at his side. They’re both wearing matching scowls that make a pit form in the middle of my gut.
“Is Willow going to be all right?” I ask, patience low. She’s just had her second surgery,
Nova sighs, sharing a look with the surgeon before he puts a hand on my shoulder. “Willow is going to be all right, brother. The fever broke, and the latest scan shows we managed to get out the last remaining bullet fragments. Thankfully, they didn’t do any lasting damage.”
I nod and let the words sink in. Willow’s going to be okay. She’s going to live. That’s all good news. “So the infection and fever are gone?”
“Mostly,” the surgeon says, a look of concern dipping his brows into a frown. “The problem wasn’t with the bullet fragments as we first suspected.”
“That doesn’t make sense. What caused the infection?” My gaze darts back and forth between the surgeon and Nova, wondering what in the hell is so bad they can’t just say it.
“Spit it out, one of you. Please.”
Nova nods, and the surgeon sighs. “We sent the bullet fragments to the forensics lab. Seems they’d been dipped in poison. A combination of mescaline and the toxic secretions from a rare South American frog. It caused her fever to spike, and very likely, hallucinogenic dreams.”
That leaves no confusion about who those bikers worked for. “But she’ll be okay, right? That shit doesn’t have lasting effects, does it?”
“No. It shouldn’t. She’s been sleeping for the past twelve hours, mostly peacefully. That leads me to believe the poison has left her system. Her vitals are stable, and rest is the best possible thing for healing. She’s going to be all right, but we’ll keep an eye on her.”
With those words of reassurance, my shoulders drop, and a long breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes.
“Thanks, Doctor.” I hold out a hand, and he accepts it easily. “I appreciate your hard work and your patience.” The guy doesn’t look old enough to be a doctor, much less to have Willow’s life in his hands, but, hey. She’s alive, so I tell myself to knock it off with my attitude.
“It’s all right,” he says, his kind eyes telling me he’s seen a lot. And as if to drive the point home, he says, “Having a loved one injured like this isn’t easy for anyone, no matter how tough they are.”
With those parting words, he leaves me alone with Nova.
“This is good news, Joaquin,” says our club’s doc and my friend.
I nod. “I know. It’s just taking the rest of me some time to recognize that.”
Willow has been through a lot over the past week and a half, and she hasn’t woken up even once. It’s killing me to think of her trapped inside a fucking poison frog hallucination. “I’m going to kill every last one of them,” I growl.
“I understand,” Nova says in his calm, slightly soothing doctor voice. “She’s going to wake up, man. She just needs time.”
Time. I could give her time. “Yeah, all right.”
Nova flashes an understanding smile. “If you’re going to keep vigil at her side, try to get some sleep, man. You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks, brother.” I smile, and for the first time in more than a week, it’s not forced. “Thanks for taking care of her for me, Nova.”
“No problem. That’s what we do, right? Take care of those we love.” He smiles again and walks off, his words ringing in my ears as I return to Willow and settle in the chair beside her.
Those we love.
I don’t know when it happened, but Willow definitely makes it into that category. No matter how much I want to keep her in the casual-only box, I can’t deny that it really hasn’t been casual from day one.