A Winter's Date (7 page)

Dillen walks back into the room and takes a seat on the other chair as Coen follows her in. He looks from me to Heather, obviously surprised at how ghastly she looks, but I still think she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve laid my eyes on. Bruises cover her pale skin; they’ve slowly been darkening over these few hours. The only color that belongs on her pale complexion is pink—her pink and nothing else.

“Damn . . .” is all Coen can manage to say as he walks over to Dillen to wrap his arms around her shivering body as she quakes with uncontrollable sobs.

“Noah? Dani said that she’d be on the first plane out of LA,” she says through sniffles and tries to breathe through her mouth. “I don’t know if Brannon is coming with her because he has a huge project he’s working on and can’t just leave his team in the middle of it.”

“That’s fine. Thank you for doing that, Dillen.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly as I search Heather’s face for any changes in the seconds my eyes strayed from her.

Coen walks over and places his hand on my shoulder. “Can I get you some coffee, man?”

“That’d be great, thanks.”

“No problem. You like it black, right?” he asks, and Dillen stands up to join him.

“Yeah,” is all I can say; I don’t have any more words for him as they both walk to the door.

“We’ll be back, Noah. Please call me if she wakes up,” Dillen asks softly before they leave the private hospital room.

I take Heather’s too-cold hand again, willing her to open those stunning jade green eyes for me, but she doesn’t.

I’m unsure of how much time passes before the two of them come back. I’m missing my girl although she’s right in front of me, and I’m mourning our unborn child. I feel like someone has reached a bare hand into my chest, grasping my heart and squeezing it with all possible might, as it’s twisted and turned and dragged painfully out of my body. I feel myself sinking into an abyss, one I didn’t know even existed. How am I going to tell her? She must have just gotten pregnant before she left for London. She’s had a piece of my heart the entire time she was away from me, thrumming wildly inside of her being.

Dillen interrupts my thoughts. “Noah? We got you coffee and a sandwich.”

I feel like all of my energy has been drained. It takes too much effort to look up toward the two of them. “Thank you, both of you.”

I can hear Dillen tear up again and to avoid the overwhelming emotions, I look back down at Heather. My world has collapsed. I push the sandwich aside and take a sip of the steaming black liquid.

“Man, do you need anything else? We can stay or go, just let us know what you’d like us to do.”

“Shit, I don’t know. Could you bring a change of clothes? Or even my toothbrush?”

“I can get that for you. I can run out right now,” Dillen says kindly, but I shake my head.

“No, it’s okay. You two go and get some sleep. I’m going to stay here tonight.”

“All right, man. We’ll just be a phone call away,” Coen says when he gets up and rubs his hand down Dillen’s back. I’m happy for the two of them; I don’t know if they are exclusive or not, but it’s more than Coen has had before.

“Thanks, have a good night.”

“Bye, Noah,” he says as they walk out.

I get up and close the door quietly in order to shut out some of the overbearing noise leaking through the hospital hallway.

NOAH

I’ve had maybe two hours of sleep in the last twenty-four hours. I feel like death, but it’s not because I’m worn out. Heather won’t budge, not even an inch; her fingers won’t move, her eyelids won’t flutter, and I’m begging her to do anything for me. I stretch and look behind me, spotting her duffel bag. I get up and grab it, before sitting back down in my chair next to her bed. Unzipping the duffel, I look inside and see all her possessions. I’ve never searched through a woman’s belongings before because it’s simply not my place, but right now, I need to know more about her. I need to be able to answer these questions in order to do my part. I grab her oversized purse out of the duffel before setting it down at my feet.

Opening her purse, I peer down into it and smile immediately. The first thing I see is a small bag of Swedish Fish. Dammit Heather, my little candy fiend. Of course she would have candy in her purse; it really should not surprise me. I move the bag of candy onto my thigh and look farther in, where I see things that I would suspect most women carry around in their purses: lipstick, those little hair things they wear on their wrists, and a small bottle of perfume. All of these things are normally meaningless, but they mean a fuck-ton to me right now. Grabbing her wallet, I open it up and find her license.

She’s smiling in her picture, my beautiful baby. I read over the small print on the plastic card: her full name is Heather Adalyn Lane, and she was born on October twenty-second, 1990. How the fuck did I not know her birthday?

I commit her birthday to memory, making damn sure I won’t forget it.

Damn, I didn’t even know she was five years younger than I am. I was expecting a year or two, but shit, I was way off. I glance up at her still-too pallid body. “You’re still flawless, baby.”

I’m about to put her license back in its place when I see a small photo tucked away. I pull on the corner of it, revealing an infant lying in its mother’s arms. I run my thumb over the image, assuming it’s a photo of Heather with her mother on the day she was born.

I put her license back along with the photo and search for her insurance card, and for whatever reason it’s not in her wallet. Fuck, I feel like I’m an intruder, searching through her things like this. I unzip a side pocket of her purse and reach in, pulling out her insurance card and a piece of . . . card stock? What in the hell is this? I turn it over in my hands and catch a familiar scent. It’s my cologne, with the name of it written in her elegant handwriting along the white strip.

She’s got my cologne sprayed on this small strip of paper. Fuck, I love this woman. I put her bag down and move closer to her, leaning onto her bed to whisper in her ear.

“I love you, baby. Please wake up for me?” I kiss her ear and nuzzle her, hoping like hell it’ll wake her. “I’m not leaving you for a second, Heather Adalyn Lane.” I exhale and run my fingers through her hair, dwelling on her current situation. “You’ve got a beautiful name, and it fits you perfectly.”

The door opens behind me and my conversation with Heather is cut short. I turn around to look and see another nurse come in. She moves to the bedside and starts checking Heather’s fluids and vitals.

“She’s looking much better today,” the woman says to me, but I know she’s lying through her teeth.

She doesn’t look any better; in fact, she looks worse. Her leg is swollen and bruised from what I can see under her bandage, and her head is wrapped tightly. There’s a bruise on the side of her face and staples in the back of her head. Lord only knows what she feels like internally. I remain quiet instead of offering her my hoarse voice. I watch her closely as she writes down a few things before departing from the room, leaving me alone with Heather once again.

I lean back down and drape my arm across her stomach gently. I need to wrap her in my arms, but I can’t. I’ll break this fragile girl lying before me if I do. I start whispering things to her, but once again I’m interrupted by the door opening behind me. For fuck’s sake, lady, you were just in here. I scowl and turn to look when my eyes land on hers.

Alexis.

She stands in the doorway and raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t think you’d be in here, Noah. How’s your face?”

I abruptly stand up, deepening my scowl. “Get the fuck out.”

“Oh, don’t be an asshole. I came to give my condolences.”

I stare at this insane woman for a long minute before I can actually say anything. “She’s not dead, Alexis. Now get the fuck out of here before I call for security.”

“Oh, I like you bossy and emotional. Maybe I should have shoved the little bitch off of the stage ages ago.”

I storm across the small room in mere seconds and stare her down, towering over her as my body vibrates with fury. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’re psychotic, Alexis. You could have killed her.”

“I couldn’t care less. You’re lucky she’s still breathing. I basically threw myself at you and you denied me each time. Payback’s a bitch, just like her spoiled ass. It’s a good thing you were here . . . I could have done much worse.”

I can’t fucking believe how crazy this girl is. I’m stunned. My voice is menacing when I finally speak. “You think I would ever touch you after what you did to her? You are unquestionably nothing compared to Heather. You’re going to pay for this, Alexis.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I already got in trouble with Mr. Norwich.”

My blood boils when she air quotes the word trouble.

“I told him it was merely an accident, shed a few crocodile tears, and bam, I’m back on top.”

“Get your crazy ass out of this room.”

I reach for the phone on the wall to call security when I feel her lips on my cheek. It takes all of my self-will not to shove her out into the hallway. I move back and call out, “I need security in here.”

“Ugh, you’re so dramatic, Noah. Fine, I’m leaving.”

“Fuck you, Alexis.”

She steps back through the doorframe, and I slam the door shut in her face. I stand there, breathing harshly.

I haven’t showered or shaved in a couple of days. I look like shit, but I’m not moving from this spot. Coen and Dillen keep trying to force me to leave for a little while, or at least shower, but what if she wakes up? No fucking way in hell am I leaving.

Something must be wrong. She hasn’t responded to anything. Not one damn thing. There are a couple of doctors who keep coming in and checking on her. They talk in hushed voices and write shit down. They keep telling me to wait patiently, but I’ve got zero patience left.

I want answers.

I have nothing left inside of me. I get up and check her body over: I know every bruise, every cut, and every stitch on her body. The bruises are fading to a greenish-yellow color now. The nurse says it’s a good sign because her body is healing.

I’m sitting here holding her hand, inspecting her nails. Shit, she’s going to be mad when she sees how her polish has grown out. I chuckle to myself knowingly when suddenly her finger twitches. I can only stare. I think I’m seeing things, but then her finger moves again. My head snaps up to look at her.

“Baby?”

She doesn’t respond, but I get up and lean in close. “Come on, beautiful, I’m here. Come back to me, Heather. Open those eyes.”

I watch her hand closely for any sign of movement before I look back up at her face. Her lashes flutter ever so slightly, and my heart leaps. Today of all fucking days! “That’s it, baby, come on, you can do it.”

I reach for the call button and press it continuously, coaxing her while I wait. “Heather . . . open your eyes, baby. You can do it. I’m here, and I’m waiting for you.”

The door swings open, and a nurse walks in. I can’t contain my eagerness. “She moved; she moved her finger just a second ago.”

The nurse frowns and walks over. “Sir, that’s just not possible. We have her sedated.”

“No. It happened, or I wouldn’t have called you in here.” I move my hand and stroke her hair gently. “She wants up, and she’s obviously fighting the drugs. Can you not take her off that yet?” I ask hopefully.