Page 11 of His to Touch
“Gotta wait on the doctor, Sutton.” Ryland must use his foot to drag the chair closer to the edge of my bed. There’s a light screech, and he’s yet to let go of me in some way, shape, or form.
“Ugh.” I lift my head up for a moment only to drop it back down. “Ouch.” I wrinkle my nose. I’m not liking this at all. There’s so much I need to do. There’s my boss I need to call, my house I need to get back to even if I’m scared shitless. There are valuables I really don’t want Shane to get ahold of. Then there’s my class I’m meant to be at tonight.
“Easy, baby. We don’t need you hurting yourself more. Now, I’m going to step outside and grab a nurse. Will you be okay for a minute?” I don’t respond. My body is locking down, my grip in his hand tightens, and that must be all the answer he needs. “Alright, I’ll sit right here. Mom should be here in a little bit. Shehad to go to the store for a few things. We’ll sit back for a spell and talk about anything and everything. Alright?”
I really hope this whole deal with Shane doesn’t cause me to have post-traumatic stress disorder, but judging by the hold I have on Ryland, I think it’s safe to assume there will be a few lingering side effects.
“What’s she getting at the store?” I ask, wondering if she’s anywhere near my house.
“Clothes and toiletries for you whenever you’re released. The doctor says it could be as early as later this evening, or he may keep you overnight.”
“Can’t go home. He’ll come back and finish the job.” I cringe hearing the way I sound. I’m scared. Never in my life have I been scared for my life, and now I am.
“You’re not going home, Sutton, not unless I stay with you. He’s not going back to your place, either. You up for this conversation? You might hear it again once Sheriff Dane comes to get your statement.” My eyes finally open fully. The image of Ryland is blurry at first until they adjust to the light.
“Yeah, I think so,” I respond. Water or ice chips would be really nice right about now, and the use of the bathroom. While there’s a pause in our conversation, I look down the length of my body. I’m in a hospital gown and can tell I’m bare beneath, no bra or panties. I flush in discomfort, worried about who saw me naked.
“The nurses took care of your clothes in the emergency room. Didn’t see you naked, Sutton.” Ryland moves around in his chair. Maybe he’s a little uncomfortable at the thought of seeing me naked, battered, and bruised. I can’t think about that right now. I’m going to focus on the task at hand.
“Oh, thank god.” I breathe a sigh of relief.
“That bad if I saw you naked?” Ry asks.
“No, I mean yes. Right now, I’d prefer no one saw me naked, not even me.” I wiggle my toes before continuing. “Making sure my feet still work. The medicine I’m on makes everything feel dull.”
Ryland starts to say something, but the door swinging open abruptly stops him.
“Oh good, you’re awake. I’ve got everything you should need. A nightgown, a pajama set, undergarments. Though, that might not be feasible for a bit. Socks, a robe, house slippers, and then the toiletry essentials. We’re going to get our girl well and back on her feet. In the meantime, I’ll grab the nurse. Maybe she’ll keep the sheriff at bay a few minutes longer until we can assess the situation.” Ms. Catherine walks in, bags in her hand. It looks like she’s done shopping, again. I’m never going to be able to pay her back. At this rate, she and Ryland both probably bought me a whole wardrobe, not to mention staying here with me.
“Thank you,” Ryland states. She’s gone as fast as she appeared, bustling around and taking care of business like it’s her life’s mission. In a time of need, Catherine Johnson pulls through any way she can. At my mom’s funeral, she held down the fort, helping me with everything from the service all the way down to my dress. A dress which was my mom’s and one I still keep in my closet till this day. When there’s a celebration, she’s doing whatever she can to help, too. Then there are days like today, when she can read the room, figure out what’s needed, and deal with it.
“Ryland.” I’ve said his name so many times since I’ve woken up, he’s probably sick of it.
“Right here, Sutton,” he reassures me.
“What I’m going to have to relive by retelling the sheriff everything is going to be a lot. I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough,” I admit, wetting my lips. There’s hardly any moisture,and it barely does a bit of difference in moistening my cracked skin.
“You’re already a fuck of a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, Sutton Rawlins.” Ryland never did use my married name. That’s okay because I never felt a tenth of what I do for Ryland when I was with Shane.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I reply. My eyes are starting to get heavy again. I’m either feeling the effects from the IV drip in my arm or choosing to sleep in order to not deal with all the drama surrounding today.
“I am. Still, you feel even an inkling of discomfort, or you need a break, squeeze my hand. I’ll deal with Liam.” His words are firm. His actions obviously show more than tell, but in this instance, it’s clear Ryland Johnson is standing on business.
TEN
RYLAND
“Hello, Ms. Rawlins,” the doctor greets Sutton with her maiden name when he walks through the door. It seems I’m not the only one who knows Sutton’s true name instead of that piece of shit’s. Which reminds me, I need to make sure Sheriff Dane is taking care of Shane, or I’ll be calling Wild and asking him to pull a few strings. He’s done it before with Birdie’s situation with her ex, so I know without a shadow of a doubt he’d do it again. A quick trip from Peachtree, Georgia, he and the sheriff had a few words, Wild went over his, and the guy who hurt Birdie was no longer walking free.
“Hi.” Suttons lifts her hand away from mine to give him a finger wave, and that’s when she notices the splint on her wrist. Her eyebrows furrow. Clearly, she didn’t realize the whole of her injuries, and that’s just the beginning of them.
“I’m sure you’d like to know more about your injuries.” Mom takes a seat opposite of where I am. Doctor Reynolds looks from Sutton’s chart to her, gauging her reaction.
“Yes, please,” Sutton says firmly. That inner strength she thinks she doesn’t have shines brightly. This woman doesn’t give herself enough credit. I mean, damn, she survived months of abuse. I only hope this was the only escalation and it didn’t go toa place where she’ll be speaking to a counselor in order to deal with the aftermath.
“Your wrist has a small fracture. You’ll need to stay in the splint for three to five weeks. Then you’ll need another X-ray to make sure it’s healing correctly. You’ve sustained multiple bruised ribs on both sides, as well as along most of your body, arms, legs, sternum, and face. The most concerning item on the list we’re looking at right now is your concussion. When the paramedics and police arrived on the scene, you were unconscious. I’m classifying it as a grade three, which means you need a longer healing time. As it stands now, you’ll have that regardless.” He pauses for a moment, allowing Sutton, Mom, and me to soak in everything. I’ve already heard her injuries earlier when the doctor spoke with my mom. Sutton had her on file as her medical advocate.
“So, working is out of the question.” Sutton lays her head back, blinking rapidly, and when she goes to bite on her plush lower lip, she thinks better of it.