The Devil Inside (4 page)

He glanced over at the clock, moving as little as possible so as not to jar his aching shoulder. 2:27.

Sam would be here any minute.

As if on cue, the door to his room whispered open, Sam backlit by the hallway light. “You still awake?”

Cody grimaced. “Not much in the mood for sleeping.”

Her mouth thinned to a tight line. “Mm-hmmm.” Turning on the bedside light, she checked his heart rate and temperature, every movement impersonal and professional. She lifted the sheet briefly and pressed gently on his stomach.

Cody couldn’t hold back the groan.

“Sorry.” Sam’s expression was anything but. “That’ll be a little tender for a while.”

A
little
tender? Talk about understatement.

“I take it you’re still refusing your meds.” She twitched the sheet and blanket back over Cody and stepped away from the bed. “Bad call.”

“But it’s my call to make,” he said, wishing he hadn’t just broken out in a cold sweat. It would have made his argument that much more persuasive.

“We’ll see.” She checked the clock. “I know it’s hard when you’re in so much pain, but sleep would be really helpful. For both of us.”

He shot a glance at her. “You’re not sleeping either?”

Her mouth snapped shut. “Forget it.” She stepped back, closer to the door, as if ready to make a quick escape. “I’ll see you in three hours.”

“Wait,” he said, holding out a hand to stop her.

But she was already gone.

Chapter Four

“Good morning, sunshine.” Sam strode over to the window and pulled back the shades. “How’d you sleep?”

Cody closed his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming into the room. “Is it that time already?”

“Seven a.m.”

He could feel her standing over the bed, glowering down at him. He didn’t even need to open his eyes to figure that out.

A glower was pretty much her default expression around him.

“So how are you feeling?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but reached down and held his wrist. Her fingers on his pulse point were cool and soft, which didn’t help keep his heart rate normal.

Plus, she smelled so damn good.

“About the same.” It wasn’t true, of course, but he hoped she wouldn’t be able to tell. He cracked one eye open. Her eyes were, if anything, even more narrowed.

She was a trained professional. Of course she’d know he was lying. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”

“Six and a half,” he said.

She paused a beat. “Nice try.”

“Maybe a seven,” he acknowledged.

“Cody, you had a bull land on you yesterday, and you’re refusing all pain meds. Your skin is clammy, you can’t take a breath without wincing, your pulse is rapid and weak, I know you didn’t sleep a wink last night, and I can tell a cold sweat when I see one. There’s no way in hell you’re only at a seven.”

“I’m a bullrider,” he explained.

From the way she shook her head, he could tell she understood what he meant.

She didn’t like it, but she understood it.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m going to fix some breakfast. Can I get you anything?”

A wave of nausea rolled through him at the thought. “I’m good.”

“Sure you are.” At the doorway of the room, Sam turned back. “You really should eat. Tea and dry toast, at least.”

Closing his eyes, he nodded. “Okay.”

It was about the last thing he wanted, but he had to give in on something. Just to stay on her good side.

The man was infuriating. Sam grabbed a loaf of bread and tossed it onto the counter, muttering to herself. He was clearly in a world of pain, but too damn stubborn to take care of himself—and worse, he refused to let her take care of him, either.

The tea kettle started to whistle, so she picked a mug out of the cabinet and dug through her tea stash for a nice decaffeinated English breakfast blend.

He wouldn’t drink it, of course. Even an idiot would have seen he was just trying to placate her. And despite all actions to the contrary this weekend, she wasn’t an idiot.

She pressed the button on the toaster and waited for the tea to steep. Then she turned on the coffee maker and prepped her own mug.

Scrambled eggs might be nice this morning. Or maybe a pastry from the café down the street. After all, she wasn’t the one on her sickbed.

Another night like last night, though, and she might end up there after all. For just a moment, she closed her eyes, wishing she’d been able to get more than a few minutes of sleep here and there.

Usually, she could—and did—fall asleep quickly. As an EMT who worked a variety of shifts, she had to take her sleep where she could get it. So when the opportunity presented itself, she tended to dive right in.

Not last night, though. She’d tossed and turned as much as her reluctant guest had, judging by the state of his bedcovers this morning. Worse, her brain had refused to shut off, leaving her staring at the ceiling for long hours of the night.

Thoughts of Cody. Of her parents. Of the past that somehow had managed to catch up with her yesterday despite her valiant efforts to leave it behind so many years before.

Two pieces of toast popped up, and the tea was ready, so she ditched the teabag in the sink and carried both items down the hall to Cody.

He swallowed painfully as he looked at the plate in her hand. “Thanks,” he croaked, visibly steeling himself. “You can just put it on the nightstand.”

She shook her head. It would still be there when she returned. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she said. “You try to get some rest. If you need anything, just call me.”

He nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

No, he wouldn’t. But until he took those meds that sat on the nightstand next to the steaming mug of tea, he’d be fighting that battle without the weapons he needed to win.

***

“I didn’t think it was possible for you to look worse.”

Cody looked up at Sam through pain-hazed eyes, a nimbus of light surrounding her head as she stood framed in the doorway. Inside the room, shadows stretched across the hardwood floor. “Thanks,” he said wryly. “Good to know I’m excelling at something.”

“I’m serious, Cody.” She held her wrist to his forehead. “God, you’re burning up.”

He grimaced. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Shaking her head, she pulled back the sheet to check his knee. Her touch was gentle as she manipulated it, but he couldn’t bite back the groan as a wave of pain washed over him.

Sam froze. “Do I need to call Dr. Miller?”

“What good would that do? I just need to rest for a few days and I’ll be fine.”

“Lying in bed staring at the ceiling is not even close to the definition of resting. If you can’t sleep, you won’t be able to heal.” She shifted the covers again and exposed his abdomen. With those soft, cool fingers, she pressed gently on his right side.

“Holy fuck!” He sucked in a breath. “Oh, my God, don’t do that.”

“Yeah, I need to call Dr. Miller.” She pulled the blankets back into position. “Sorry, Cody. With the way things are going, I don’t know if I’ll be able to take care of you here anymore.”

“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist, keeping her from leaving the room. “What do you mean, you can’t take care of me here?”

“You’re not healing.” She sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. “If anything, you’re getting worse. Your abdominal bruising should be less sensitive by now, and you clearly aren’t getting any sleep. I think you need to be in a more medically appropriate location right now. You need more help than I can give you.”

“So where would I go?”

Her hand shifted in his palm, her fingers lacing though his in a gesture that was as unconscious as it was tender. “I don’t know. Probably back to the hospital.”

His fingers tightened on hers, and she looked down with a surprised expression on her face. “Please. Don’t send me back there.”

She slid her hand away, making him regret his impulsive reaction. “You’re getting worse, not better. And I’m afraid that you might be at risk of an infection if you keep going in the same direction.”

“I won’t be any better off there,” he argued, gripping the sheets with one hand. “All those nurses poking and prodding and keeping me awake.”

“Oh, like you’re getting any sleep right now.” She shook her head. “If you’d take your medication, it wouldn’t be an issue, but—”

“I can’t take the medication.” He turned his head toward the wall. “Because I can’t risk getting addicted. Again.”

Silence stretched out.

“I see.” Her tone was matter of fact. “Prescription, or recreational?”

“About four years ago I was injured at training camp. Messed up my ankle pretty bad. I was on Percocet and, well, didn’t stop taking it when I was supposed to.”

“Of course you didn’t.” She stood and walked away from the bed. “Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be the first to end up addicted to Percocet.”

“I’ve been clean for three and a half years, Sam. And I have no intention of ever putting myself in that position again.” He risked a glance at her. No traces of pity, thank God.

“I wish you’d said something.” She picked up the pill container. “We could have saved ourselves a lot of struggle.”

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” he muttered. “It was during the slow season, so not very many people know about it. My parents. My trainer.” He shrugged. “You.”

“I hope you know it won’t go any farther than this, Cody.”

“I know.” He wouldn’t have said anything, otherwise.

“I wonder if we can find a non-addictive alternative.” Her brow furrowed as she read the label. “This one’s a non-narcotic, because hello, we don’t want to put a concussion victim under for longer than necessary. So really, it’d be pretty unlikely for you to suffer a relapse on this med. But to be on the safe side, I’d like to ask Dr. Miller for his opinion.”

“The fewer people who know, the better.”

“Don’t worry, he’s bound by confidentiality rules as well. You can trust him.”

He bit his lip, then closed his eyes as a fresh wave of pain made him dizzy. “Okay,” he said finally. “Give him a call.”

She turned to go, but not before he saw the relief on her face.

Sam plunked the prescription bottle down on the nightstand. “Here you go.”

“And you’re sure this one…”

“Just a stronger version of Motrin,” she answered. “No narcotics, absolutely nothing addictive. It’ll take away the pain and let you sleep so you can start to heal.”

“Thanks.” He held out his hand so she could tip the pills into his palm. He swallowed them dry, then accepted the glass of water she held out next.

“Don’t be surprised if you feel a bit woozy to start with,” she warned. “Two days without sleep and a big helping of pain on top of it will lower your resistance to the medication. Once you’ve slept a while, though, your reaction should level out.”

“Okay.”

Sam took a step back from the bed, clearly ready to make her escape. “I’ll stop in to check on you in a couple of hours.”

“Wait.” Cody reached out and grabbed her hand, holding her gently in place. “I, uh, wanted to thank you.”

She shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Bullshit.”

That got her attention.

“You went above and beyond, and you know it.” He looked away. “I haven’t been the easiest patient.”

Sam laughed. “Understatement of the year, anyone?”

“Okay, okay. I deserve that.” He took a deep breath, which was easier than it would have been just a few minutes earlier. “But I appreciate that you took my concerns seriously.”

“Of course.” She paused for a moment. “Promise me one thing, though.”

“What?”

“Don’t hold stuff like that back again. I need to know all the facts in order to make valid decisions about your treatment.”

“Fair enough.” He noticed, with some surprise, that his thumb was stroking the back of Sam’s hand. With a little regret, he let go, his palm grazing hers as his hand dropped back on the bed. “I think the meds are starting to kick in.”

“About time.” She placed her wrist against his forehead. “You’re looking better now, too.”

“I am sorry. About everything.” Man, he was fading fast. “Especially that you had to witness the accident. It must have been horrible for you after what happened to your dad.”

“You scared the hell out of me.”

The admission was clearly difficult for her to make; Sam wouldn’t even look at him as she muttered the words.

“Scared the hell out of me, too.” He shook his head slowly, trying to avoid a repeat of the crushing headache that had just managed to subside. “I’ve never had a ride that intense.”

“So it wasn’t just me?” She glanced sideways at him. “I wasn’t overreacting because of—well, you know.”

“I can’t say if you were overreacting or not. If anyone had a right to, it’d be you. But I do know that bull had some serious rage problems.”

“Huh.” She stared into the distance. “I wonder.”

“What are you thinking?” Cody knew that look. Even though thirteen years had gone by since the last time he’d been around her, he knew her “plotting” look as well as he knew his name. He’d seen it often enough when they were kids.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

Yeah, right.

Unfortunately, he was barely able to keep his eyes open right now, let alone tease out whatever secret she was keeping.

Maybe later, after he woke up.

He closed his eyes. His mumbled “good night” came out pretty much incoherent, even to his own ears.

The sound of the door closing was the last thing he remembered before sleep pulled him under.

Chapter Five

The phone rang seventeen times before Sam finally hung up.

Of course no one was in the rodeo office. They were probably all over at the actual rodeo now, not manning the phones.

She tapped her fingers on the arm of the couch. Even if she had reached someone official, what were they going to do? Launch an investigation based on a vague feeling she had?

She tossed a frozen dinner in the microwave and powered up the laptop at the kitchen table. In between bites, she surfed the pro rodeo sites to see if she could find anything helpful.

Oddly, the pictures from recent bullriding competitions didn’t make her break out into a cold sweat, though she quickly clicked out of the injury list she opened by mistake.