"No. I never said that." Natalie seemed offended that I thought she was a nurse, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. She set her coffee down to reach for her badge again. "Give me that, Leo."
Leo chuckled, shaking his hand at her. "Check out my dick and you can have your badge back."
With a groan, I left the two of them bickering over dicks and badges to find the vending machines. Wandering around, I tried to ask myself what the hell I was even doing here.
It was Christmas. Shouldn't I be with my family?
My parents weren't happy with me missing Christmas, but when I explained the situation, they understood. Growing up, values held a lot of importance in our house. My parents had tried to instill their beliefs in me and my sister. As far as I was concerned, they had. Among those beliefs were honesty, loyalty, respect, love, and hard work. You worked for what you wanted.
Maybe sometimes you got lucky and didn't have to work as hard, but still, you worked hard.
I liked to think I still had those qualities, despite my lifestyle, and maybe that was the reason why I was here waiting for this girl to wake up.
When I got back to the waiting room Natalie was gone, but Leo was asleep in the chair I left him in. I kicked his left leg, and he jumped, looking around and glaring. "What the fuck was that for?"
"Oh sorry. I tripped." I had just sat down when a nurse wearing navy scrubs came over to us.
"Which one of you is Evan Masen?" When she said my name her eyes lifted from the clipboard to meet mine and then back to the clipboard as if she had to be sure. A smile came over her. "You're Evan Masen with the Chicago Blackhawks, aren't you?"
I nodded, raising my eyebrows as if to say, "What do you want?" but I wasn't rude about it.
Leo sat up in the chair, reaching for her badge. She was quicker than Natalie was and slapped his hand away. "Don't touch that." Then she recognized him. "Oh hey, you're Leo Orting!" Leo must have been her favorite player. As soon as she looked at his charming smile, her attitude was completely different.
Next thing I knew Leo was asking her to dinner.
"Why did you really come over here?" I interrupted.
"Oh, uh, Ami Sutton's in room five on the third floor if you want to see her. I was told to pass that information on to you. They'll allow you back there for a little while, but where she's at visitors are not allowed. Seems the doctor pulled a few strings, and now I know why." She smiled at Leo, who in turn gave her a cocky nod. I had a feeling he was about to make her Christmas unforgettable later that night.
I hadn't realized how late it had gotten, but it was now ten o'clock in the morning. On a day when most people were opening presents, Ami was fighting for her life. It just didn't seem like Christmas to me.
Part of me thought maybe I could catch a quick flight to Pittsburgh and see my family, but the other part, the part that couldn't sleep and was here at the hospital, didn't want to leave.
Christmas with the Masen family was always a major production. Our entire family came over—aunts, uncles, cousins, and even friends gathered in our suburban home for the entire day. Fights between my cousins and me usually broke out, and most of the time my dad would pick a fight with his older brother when one would bet the other he couldn't do something.
It was always off the wall shit, too, like, "I bet you can't jump off the roof and land it," as though that was something two fifty-year-old men should be doing.
My mother, the soft spoken woman that she was, took it all in good humor and entertained. Being a professional caterer, parties were her thing, and drama was part of the game. Wendy, the nurse, who now had Leo hanging off her arm, led me to the third floor where the ICU was and pointed to the door. After she left, I opened the door to see Ami lying in bed, looking much the same as yesterday. Wendy gestured to the room. "Talk to her. She has no one."
I swallowed, trying to nod, but instead I shook my head and turned to the door. The churning in my gut, the fog in my head, the uncontrolled beating of my heart had returned as did the images.
She looked worse today, as if the real trauma was making itself known. The blood had been cleaned from her hands and face now, but dark bruises were scattered across any skin that was showing and were outlined by bright red splotches. Everywhere I looked her skin was colored.
Immediately, my mind went to what she had to have gone through. The beating, the force of his hits to do this damage, it was repulsive. It was one thing to hear about someone being raped or beaten, but to see it—see the aftermath and see the person struggling for their life—that was different. It made the reality alive. It happened so often most didn't blink an eye. I knew this sort of shit happened, and I didn't think it was right, but I also never gave it much thought. Now, it was all I could think about.
This girl was only a few years older than my fifteen-year-old sister. What if this happened to her?