The Biker’s Nurse

Chapter 2

Scott’s POV

I blinked, forcing my vision to focus through the blinding white lights above me. Slowly, shapes began to take form. A curtain. A monitor. The soft rhythmic beep of something keeping track of my heart.

Then, two familiar faces came into view.

My mom sat on one side of the bed, her hands clenched together, worry etched deep into every line of her face. Beside her was Luke, his head bowed, his usually cocky smile replaced with something grim and heavy.

Relief washed over their faces the second my eyes opened fully.

“Hi,” I croaked out, my voice rough and broken. It was barely a whisper, but it was enough to make my mom gasp and cup my face in her trembling hands.

“Scott, baby, are you okay?” Her voice quivered like she was holding back tears. She leaned close, pressing her forehead gently to mine.

I tried to nod, but the motion felt strange. My whole body felt strange. I swallowed, my throat aching, and shifted my shoulders, trying to sit up. That was when it hit me.

I couldn’t feel my legs.

A jolt of confusion shot through me. My mind scrambled, trying to make sense of it. I tried again, harder this time, to move my legs under the blanket. Nothing happened. It was like they weren’t even there.

“Mom…” My voice cracked, thin with rising panic. “I… I can’t… My legs. I can’t move my legs.”

Luke’s head snapped up. His blue eyes filled with pain as he opened his mouth, then shut it again, like he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

My mom’s tears spilled over as she gripped my hand tighter.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, too softly, like she was talking to a child who was about to hear something devastating.

“No.” My chest tightened. My heart was racing so fast the monitor began to beep louder and louder, a shrill sound that matched the pounding in my ears.

“Why?” My voice rose, desperate and hoarse. “Why can’t I move my legs? Mom, what happened? Tell me!”

Luke stepped forward, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitch. “Scott, there was… the crash. The truck came out of nowhere. You went flying, man. It was bad.”

I shook my head violently. “No, no, that doesn’t explain this. Why can’t I feel anything? Why can’t I move my legs?” My breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps.

My mom finally broke. She pressed her lips to my forehead and sobbed. “Baby, the doctors… they said your spine was damaged. They did everything they could.”

The words slammed into me like a freight train.

“They said… you won’t be able to walk again.”

For a moment, I couldn’t even process it. It was like she had spoken another language, one my brain refused to understand.

“What?” The word tore out of me, raw and disbelieving. “No. No, that’s not right. I was riding just yesterday! I was fine, I was….” My voice cracked, shattering like glass. “Tel me this is a lie! Please tell me you’re lying to me!”

Luke’s hands balled into fists. His face twisted with grief as he shook his head. “Scott, it’s true. I’m so sorry, man.”

I couldn’t breathe. My vision tunneled, everything spinning wildly.

My mom grabbed me, holding me tightly against her chest like she had when I was a kid. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“No, you don’t!” I sobbed, my voice cracking. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to live like this!”

Her tears soaked my hair as she rocked me gently, whispering words I couldn’t make out. All I could hear was the hollow emptiness in my legs and the truth that was now my reality.

I was broken. I don’t know how long I cried. Minutes, hours…..time didn’t matter anymore. When the tears finally slowed, I was left hollow, my throat raw and my chest aching.

The days that followed blurred together. Doctors came and went, explaining my injuries in careful, measured tones.

Luke stayed by my side, guilt written all over his face, though he never said it out loud. My mom hardly left the room, only stepping out when forced to eat or rest.

I hated the pity in their eyes. I hated the way the nurses spoke to me, slow and soft like I was fragile glass about to shatter.

The day came for me to be discharged and they wheeled me out of the hospital, the cold metal of the chair pressing into my back. I stared straight ahead, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

When we reached the car, Luke lifted me carefully into the passenger seat. I wanted to fight him, to prove I didn’t need his help, but the truth burned too deep. I did need him. I hated it.

The drive home was silent. My mom kept glancing at me in the rearview mirror, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles were white. Luke sat beside me, his body tense, like he was waiting for me to break again.

We pulled up to the house and my chest tightened. I stared at the front steps, the ones I used to bound up two at a time.

Luke got out first, grabbing the wheelchair from the trunk. He set it up and helped me into it without a word. My mom hovered nearby, her hands wringing the strap of her purse.

The moment my wheels crossed the threshold, reality sank deeper. This was my home. My space. My life. And it wasn’t mine anymore.

Luke pushed me into the living room, then stopped, looking unsure of what to do next.

“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice flat.

He nodded, but I could see the pain in his eyes.

My mom knelt in front of me, taking my hands in hers. “We’ll get through this, baby. I promise.”