Born to be Different by A.L. Simpson

Author:A.L. Simpson [Simpson, A.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-03-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

RAFE

Wade’s voice floats through my haze. “Rafe, darling. Are you awake?”

I move slightly and think I cry out. Fuck. I hurt like a sonofabitch. I’m trying to figure out where I am and what happened.

“Rafe, darling. Open your eyes.”

Wade’s voice is pleading. I struggle to open my eyes. My eyelids weigh a fucking ton. He’s holding my hand. At least I think it’s him holding my hand. I hope it is. Why won’t my fucking eyes open?

“He should wake shortly. He’s had a large dose of sedatives and pain killers so he’ll be pretty groggy.” It’s a female voice. One I don’t recognize. Why have I had sedatives and painkillers?

“I thought you said he was awake?” Wade sounds distraught.

“He opened his eyes briefly and that is what we consider to be awake. It will take a while for him to come out of the anesthetic so he will be in and out of sleep.”

Anesthetic? Why? And, who the fuck is the chick? I need some answers. I need to wake up. I force my eyelids open. My vision is fuzzy but I can make out Wade beside me.

“Welcome back.” His smile is one of relief.

“Wha… whe…” My fucking throat won’t work. It hurts like hell. My tongue is so dry it could be mistaken for sandpaper. “Drink,” I whisper.

The female comes into sight. Who the fuck is she? I glance around. I’m in a bed. Machines are beeping. There are tubes everywhere, mostly attached to me. Bright lights are searing my eyeballs.

“Sorry, Mr. Cross. I can give you ice to suck on but no water yet.”

I want a fucking drink but I don’t have the energy to argue. I nod my head. A cold sliver of ice is held to my lips and it’s heavenly. I suck at it greedily. My tongue rehydrates and the burn in my throat eases.

“I’ll be back soon. If he needs anything press the button.” The female directs this at Wade.

The ice has dissolved and I can finally speak. “What the fuck happened and where the fuck am I?”

Wade gives what sounds like a relieved laugh as he pulls a chair close to my bed. He brushes my lips with his and oh, it feels divine, before he sits down. “It’s good to hear you sounding a bit like yourself. You had me worried sick.”

“What happened?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

I shake my head. I can’t remember a fucking thing.

“You were in your office. Someone shot you.”

The memories hit me like a freight train. “George,” I whisper.

“It was George?”

“Yes. He came to the office and demanded to move back in with me. He said he had nowhere to go. Something about the man he’d been fucking had ended their affair and told him to leave. I told him I didn’t give a fuck. How stupid am I? I was taunting a man who was waving a gun in my face.”

“So he shot you?”

“No, and I don’t think he would have, even though he was desperate. I dived at him to get the gun and it went off.

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