Young Love Dies Hard: The Young Brothers, Book 1 by Nikki Lane (old books to read txt) 📗

replay. He grabbed a hold of my cheeks with his thick fingers, making my lips purse a little. “Tell me what happened.”

“C-Cowboy,” I sputtered.

Sal gave me a crooked look. “We better get you to the hospital, kid.”

I nodded, my head pounding, and fell into his arms, closing my eyes and giving into the blackness that blanketed me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to the beeps of the heart monitor. Outside the room, I heard the low chatter of the nurses. I tried to settle into my bed, but I couldn’t. I was too restless and uncomfortable. I wanted my own bed, my own pillow. But I hadn’t gotten the results from my CT scan, and the nurse said it could be a few more hours. It was just a concussion, after all. I’d seen my mother take a lot worse.

Sal stayed for longer than I had expected. I nodded in thanks as he slipped away when the cops showed up to ask me some questions. They had promised to contact me in a few days, but I knew it was all bullshit. For all anybody cared, I was just another stripper who got beat up in a parking lot.

I had no car. No phone. Just a few stitches in my lip and a bruised rib.

A nurse popped into the room to take my vitals.

“How’s your pain?” she asked.

“I’m okay.” The physical pain was nothing compared to what I felt inside. Crushed. Ashamed. The searing ache that infiltrated every cell in my body was far more painful than some cuts and scrapes. My physical injuries would heal without any effort on my part. What was hurting on the inside would be the festering wound I’d have to suffer with all my life. “I really feel like I’d get more rest at home.”

“Doctor has you on overnight observation.” She studied my face as she pumped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. “Do you want to call anyone?”

“No,” I said, slumping my head into the thin pillow. I was alive. There was no need to worry Aunt Meg and Uncle Jim for nothing. It was easier to avoid unwanted questions about the circumstances of my attack if they didn’t know it had happened.

“Blood pressure’s good.” She unwrapped the cuff from my arm. “I’ll be back in to check on you. Use the call button if you need anything.” She smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her.

* * * *

I stared at the phone beside my hospital bed, willing myself to make the call. Sarah was unreachable, her phone disconnected. I wasn’t even sure if she knew what had happened last night. With no money for a cab, I could either walk the ten miles, or I could call Uncle Jim and Aunt Meg.

I reached for the receiver and dialed their number without giving myself another second to consider it. I’d have to lie, of course, which made me feel even shittier.

“Hello?”

“Aunt, Meg?” I sounded like I wasn’t expecting her to pick up.

“Maeve, you sound so far away. Is everything all right?”

After all those years of looking after me, she’d seemed to develop an intuitive ability to detect when I was in trouble. Maybe it was from all those times I’d hidden from Doug in the closet clutching the phone to my ear and begging to be picked up.

“I-I’m okay.” My voice trembled. “Well, actually… I twisted the cord of the phone so tight my fingers were white. “I need a ride home.”

“Ride home from where?”

“The hospital.”

“The hospital? What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It was just…an accident. I got into a car accident last night.” I touched the tender spot above my eyebrow. I hated this so much it was making my brain throb.

“Oh my goodness,” she cried. She mumbled away from the phone, and I assumed it was to share the news with Uncle Jim. “Why didn’t you call sooner?” she said into the phone.

“I didn’t want to worry you. Anyway, I don’t have a car, and the doctor is discharging me from the hospital. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”

She sighed heavy into the phone. “I feel so terrible, dear.”

“I’m fine, really, Aunt Meg.”

“Your uncle and I would be more than happy to pick you up, but I’m afraid we wouldn’t be able to get there for a few more hours. One of the hands has taken the truck to get more feed for the animals.”

I picked up some of Uncle Jim’s muffled words in the background, something about driving one of the Massey’s if he had to. Aunt Meg shushed him, and I could picture her waving a dishtowel at his face.

“There is another option, if you don’t want to wait,” Aunt Meg said.

I was already shaking my head, sure of what she was about to say. But I was proven wrong with her response.

“I could call your mother for you.”

A few silent beats passed.

“Maeve?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“I know she wouldn’t mind.”

The nurse walked past my room for the third time, giving me this look like I was a customer at a restaurant who’d paid the bill ten minutes ago. Why was I still taking up her table?

“Okay,” I said. “Can you call her?”

* * * *

I waited in the hospital lobby for my mom to make the drive to the hospital. It was amazing how many people I’d seen walk in and out. Old people, young people. Pregnant women, women holding babies, men holding flowers. Everyone seemed to come in pairs or in small groups. I sat alone in the chair closest to the doors, noticing the few stares aimed my way.

When my mom finally appeared through the automatic doors, I barely recognized her.

“Hi,” I said, stiffly rising from my seat.

Her eyes, clear and no longer sporting the faded yellow of aged bruises, widened just enough to remind me of my appearance. She didn’t try to hug me, like I’d seen