Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 214(@200wpm)___ 171(@250wpm)___ 143(@300wpm)
“Ash Grave?” an older voice called out. I spun around and swiped at my cheeks, watching as Vern waved at the man in a pair of khaki slacks, a pale blue button-down, and an open lab coat. He made his way over to us, a kind smile on his face. “Vern, right?” Vern nodded. “Ash is ready for visitors now. I’d like to discuss everything with you in his room, if that’s okay?”
Vern nodded and pressed a palm to Beck’s lower back. Beck grabbed my hand, and the three of us followed the doctor through a set of heavy, steel double doors and down two hallways until he pushed open the door to room nineteen. When we stepped inside, my knees almost buckled.
Tank was… fuck.
Bruises discolored his body, and stitches held his mangled skin together. He’d lost so much weight, so much muscle mass. His hair was matted and greasy, and a scraggly beard covered the lower half of his face. He was laying as still as a rock, his chest slowly rising and falling—the only indication he was alive aside from the steady beeping of the heart monitor.
“He should wake up in about thirty minutes,” the doctor informed us. “And he’s going to be in a lot of pain.” He grabbed a button resting beside Tank on the bed. “This is for morphine. He’ll have it for the first day he’s here in the hospital before we try to put him on something he can take at home.” He showed us the button. “It can be pressed every twenty minutes as needed.”
I nodded before moving away from Beck and closer to the head of Tank’s bed. My palm cupped his cheek, and my lips trembled. He was so pale, and he looked so weak. It tore my heart to pieces. “Tank has quite a bit of recovery ahead of him. Unfortunately, he’s going to be heavily scarred. The cosmetic surgeon I called in a special favor to did what he could for his wounds, but without cosmetic surgery after he heals, the scars will remain.” A tear slipped from my eye and ran down my cheek, falling onto Tank’s cheek. I gently wiped it away, sniffling.
“The rectal tearing?” Beck quietly asked. I flinched at the question.
“Will heal fine,” the doctor assured us. “He just needs lots of rest, a healthy diet, which we’ll start him off with here.” He held out his card to Vern, but Beck took it. Vern rested his hand on Beck’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I want to see Tank once a week until I feel comfortable enough to see him less.”
“I’ll make sure he’s at every appointment,” Beck told the doctor, tilting his chin up with a strength I knew was hard for him to muster up despite how calm he was at the moment. I knew he was hurting, even if he was hiding it.
Fuck, I was sure I’d been doing enough crying and had been depressed enough for the both of us.
“I’ll be back in an hour or two to check on him again,” the doctor informed us. “Please don’t hesitate to find one of the nurses if you need anything.”
With that, he left the room. Vern looked at me. “Have you eaten?” I just shrugged. He sighed. “I’m going to find you two some food. Stay here in this room and don’t leave, understand?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I croaked. The only way I was leaving this room was if someone dragged me out kicking and screaming.
Vern nodded and slipped from the room. Beck wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder, both of us staring down at Tank. I stroked my hand over his dark hair. His eyes slowly cracked open, and I swallowed thickly, my hand trembling in the greasy strands of his hair. Finally, they opened fully, and he immediately looked at both of us.
“Little one,” he rasped.
My shoulders shook as I began to cry all over again. For two weeks, I’d thought I would never hear him call me that again. Leaning down, I cupped his cheeks to press a kiss to his lips. He cupped the back of my head, kissing me back soft and slow.
“I thought you were dead,” I sobbed.
He shook his head and brushed some of my tears off my cheek before his hand dropped back to the mattress with a grunt. He closed his eyes again, already looking tired. “Not dead, little one. I’d never leave you two in this world without me.” He looked at Beck, a small smile tilting his lips. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey,” Beck croaked, his voice thick with tears. “Don’t ever fucking do something like that again.”
Tank sighed. “That’s not a promise I’m willing to make, boy.” He shut his eyes again. “So fucking tired,” he breathed.