After I’ve done this a few too many times, I see a doctor walking down the wall. “Excuse me, doctor,” I say to the short brunette woman in a white lab coat, “Do you think you could help me? My wife is back here and I can’t remember what room she’s in. I had to go out to the waiting room to use my phone to call and check on our daughter.” I’m making this up as I go, and I’m actually wishing it were true, hoping it will be true someday. “And now I can’t remember what room she’s in.”
Smiling, she says, “Sure. What’s her name?”
“Dahila London,” I tell her, and I really wish I was saying Dahlia Wilde.
She walks over to the desk and looks on a clipboard. She then directs me to curtained room number ten. It’s no more than ten feet away, but the walk feels like miles. Memories flood my mind with visions of her dancing in the rain. Her carefree take on life and the beauty she finds in everything is awe-inspiring. What’s ironic is she thinks everyone around her is amazing, but she’s the amazing one. The one I was supposed to take care of and failed miserably at.
My phone is ringing again and the nurse walking down the corridor shoots me a look, “Sir, your phone is supposed to be turned off when you’re back here.”
Reaching for it in my front pocket, I hit the vibrate button. “Sorry, Miss,” I say as I see seven missed calls in the last thirty minutes, all from Caleb.
I hold my breath as I reach to open the blue curtain. Fear and dread flow through my veins until I not only see but also hear the voice of the girl I’ve fallen so deeply in love with.
“River, is that you?”
I yank open the curtain to see her sitting in the bed with her head propped back. There’s a bruise on her cheek, and her lip is swollen. She has a bandage wrapped around her wrist where she wears the bracelet from him. But thank God she’s sitting up and she’s talking to me.
Swallowing hard, I can’t suppress the tears as they instantly start flowing down my face. I jet over to her side and gently wrap by arms around her, careful of the wires connected to her body through the hospital gown.
She pulls me to her even tighter.
I whisper because I’m barely able to speak, “Are you okay?”
Crying, she nods her head, “Yes.”
I gently cup her beautiful face in my hands, and stare at her. I press my lips to hers, careful to not actually apply any pressure. As relief washes over me that she’s all right, I put my head in the crook of her neck and stay there, unable to move. She’s become so much a part of me in such a short period of time; I can’t imagine my life without her.
She holds on to me, and I not only feel the strong physical connection she needs from me right now but also the deep emotional connection that binds us together. Her crying continues as I attempt to soothe her. Each of her tears is a tug I feel in my own heart.
I want to ask her what happened. Who did this? Did he touch you? How did he touch you? I want to fucking kill this man, but right now what she needs from me most is just me. So I hold in my questions until later and just hold her tight thanking God she’s alive and okay.
Her cries turn into my cries as I kiss her on the forehead. “Everything’s okay now, baby. And I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”
CONNECTED
We’ve taken this journey
Down this happy road
Discovering our love
And we know we will never be alone
We feel connected...connected forever.
River’s POV
3 days after the attack…
Wrapped in her concert t-shirt blanket, she’s wedged in between my legs as we lie outside on a lounge chair with the sunrise and the Hollywood sign as our canvas. Her head rests on my chest, our fingers laced together, and my arms wrapped around her, holding her tight, where they’ve been since the attack.