O'Connor's Girl

Painkiller

"Hi. May I speak to Mr. O'Connor?" A gentle female voice asked somewhere near Broc. He swore. Dad would be mad as hell.

"Your son is in the Forrester Medical Centre. Um sir not-," she looked quizzically at the phone in her hand before putting it down.

Broc looked around. He was in a girl's bedroom. The walls were pastel lilac with large lilies painted onto the wall on either side of the bay window his bed was on the left of. On the bay window's cushions was a large, four-foot teddy bear and a leather-bound book. The cushions were large, round and lavender.

A soft, cool hand touched his forehead just below the bandage he knew he had on his head. He turned his head to the left. His neck was restrained by a collar. He looked up and saw boobs.

What the-? He looked further up and saw that the nice looking, although small boobs (in a green tee with a gory design) belonged to a girl. She had honey-colored curls that flew wildly in almost all directions. Her skin was the color of white tea with a summer tan. She smiled at him and he passed out.

"Ms. Majorie, he was awake but he passed out when I smiled at him." Christine Forrester told the nurse who had just been on the phone.

"Thanks Chris. I'll call the doctor. How are you feeling?"

The girl shrugged and lay back against a continental pillow on the double bed next to the hospital bed by the window. Her right arm was connected to an IV. The stand was almost hidden by the folds of the canopy on either side of the bed. The girl bit the inside of her cheek. She wasn't feeling the gut ripping pain yet but she knew it would come.

When Broc woke up again the sun had set and his father sat on the right of his bed. True to nature his father was on his tablet, working. He laughed and it came as a groan. His father put the tablet back into his briefcase and held Broc's fingers.

"Dad," he croaked.

"I'm here son." His father's piercing blue eyes connected with his. His father sounded tired. His black-brown hair wasn't combed back, as usual so the waves softened the severity of his gaze. His father's hair was in disarray. Summer was the only season his skin was similar to his father. Both of them tanned well as long as the sun hit their skin.

Broc's skin was fairly pale for a multi-racial kid. He knew from pictures that his mom had been fair skinned even though she was of African descent. All of his mother's people were yellow bone.

Before he could ask his father handed him a glass of water with a straw. The liquid felt cool and refreshing as it hit the back of his throat. He leaned back and find his arm around a soft body. He looked at his father.

"Looks like you've got yourself a keeper." His father teased.

"What color is her hair?" Broc asked.

"Honey and Gold. Why?"

"She could have very well saved my life. She came running down the hill screaming at them to stop.

His father's eyes dropped to the body that was curled around his son's. It was a very intimate pose. Her right leg went between Broc's legs. Her right arm was bent over his chest with her right hand under her head and her left arm rested on his neck. 

Brad panicked. His dad looked like he was about to remove her. He couldn't feel her but he liked having her this close. The room was warm and his arm was above the blanket that covered her.

"Do you know who did this to you?" His father's tone was light.

Brad licked his dry lips. "Yeah,  we have plenty of time to talk."