The Author and Her Bodyguard

Chapter 42

I've always hated the smell of cleaning supplies. Some people view it as a smell that represents a fresh start, a clean slate. But I view it as the source used to scrub away something bad, something that hurt, or caused distress. The smell means something bad happened. Bleach. That was the first thing that hit me as I floated into consciousness.

Strange sounds filtered through my mind, rhythmic and eerie. "Turn that off," I muttered at my morning alarm. But the sound continued, insistent and consistent in its parade to be noticed. I tried to turn and slam my hand against my phone to kill the noise, but the movement was rewarded with a blaze of fire eating at my left arm and ribs.

Hissing through clenched teeth, my eyes fluttered open, taking in the dark space around me. I didn't recognize where I was. It was too dark to see clearly. But I discovered a few things as I scanned the room. One, I wasn't in my own bed. Two, the incessant beeping wasn't coming from my phone. And three, a figure shrouded in darkness stood in the doorway.

I screamed, terrified, and tried to scramble out of the bed. Everything burned as I moved and before I was even halfway out of the bed, my legs got tangled in the sheets and I fell head first towards the floor. "Woah!" A voice cried, alarmed.

I slammed into a pair of arms, and struggled to get free. "Let me go!" I shouted.

"Summers! CALM DOWN!" the voice bellowed, drowning out my screams as his voice filled the room.

I looked up into a pair of dark blue eyes, my own, wide-eyed. "Aiden?" I whispered, confused.

He stared down at me for a long moment, one arm tucked under my knees and the other cradling my back. "It's like you want to get more injuries," he said, his voice unusually loud with my head cradled against his chest.

It took me a second to work past the morphine in my system and when I did, the words came out in a set of sputters. "You told me that there was another stalker. And then I wake up to find you standing in the doorway like some creepy... well stalker." I looked around the room, the details coming into focus in dim lightning. I had a cast on my left arm, and wore a thin gown, making me very aware of everywhere my body touched Aiden's. "Where am I?"

"The hospital." Aiden's eyes flashed, craking with lightning in the middle of a storm. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid."

I stared up at him, raising my chin defiantly, unflinching under his gaze. I didn't regret what I did and I refused to apologize for it. Our faces were close, from where he held me in his arms as our staring contest continued. "I didn't want Tate to die."

Aiden seemed to lose his ability to stand and gently placed me back on the bed before slumping onto the edge of the bed next to me. "Aiden?" I asked. "Where's Tate?"

He ran his fingers through his hair, and in the low room light, I spotted the deep purple bruises from lack of sleep sitting under his dusty lashes. "He's here." He motioned towards the hallway. "A few doors down."

"Can I see him?"

Aiden shook his head, eyes on the ground. "No one can see him."

"Why?" I squeaked, growing panicked.

 His words were a mere whisper. "He's in surgery."

My heart hammered wildly. "Will he be okay? Is he okay? How long will he be in surgery for? What is he in surgery for? When did he go into surgery? How long have I been out? He better be okay because I have to punch him for tricking me into jumping out of the car!"

"Summers," Aiden said, cutting off my panicked chatter. "He's alive." 

I let out a deep breath I didn't realize I was holding and fell back against the pillows, exhausted. "He shattered a few bones in the crash." His voice caught, and he cleared it, pausing before he continued. "Surgery started a few hours ago. You've been here for six hours."