His Secret Addiction

Chapter Forty

Alex's POV

Monday morning Damien met with his lawyer about Trevor's book.

I went to the office to handle client calls. Casey had scheduled three meetings back to back. I got through two before my phone rang.

Victoria.

"Alex, there's been an accident. Damien's in the hospital."

Everything stopped. "What?"

"Car accident on the way back from his lawyer's office. Someone ran a red light. He's conscious but they're running tests. Mount Sinai, emergency room."

I was already grabbing my keys. "How bad?"

"I don't know. Marcus just called me. He's on his way there now."

I hung up and told Casey to cancel everything. Drove to the hospital going too fast, not caring. Parked illegally and ran inside.

Marcus was in the waiting room.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"They're doing a CT scan. Possible concussion, definitely bruised ribs. The airbag deployed so his face is pretty beat up." Marcus stood. "The other driver ran. They're looking for him now."

"Can I see Damien?"

"Soon. They said thirty minutes."

I sat down before my legs gave out. I tried to breathe normally. Failed.

Marcus sat next to me. "He's going to be okay. The doctor said nothing life-threatening."

"But he's hurt."

"He is. But he's alive and conscious and asking for you."

That helped. Slightly.

Victoria arrived twenty minutes later. Then a doctor came out.

"Family of Damien Cross?"

We all stood.

"He has a mild concussion, three bruised ribs, and various cuts and bruising. No internal bleeding, no broken bones. He's very lucky." The doctor looked at her tablet. "We're keeping him overnight for observation because of the concussion. He's asking for Alex Carter."

"That's me."

"You can see him now. Room 4."

I followed her through the doors. Found Damien sitting up in a hospital bed, looking terrible. His face was swollen on one side, a cut above his eye, bruises already forming.

"You look awful," I said.

"You should see the other guy. Oh wait, he ran away." Damien tried to smile and winced. "I'm fine. Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm dying. I'm not. Just bruised."

I sat in the chair next to the bed. Took his hand carefully. "You scared me."

"I scared myself. One second I was driving, the next some i***t ran the light and hit my passenger side." He squeezed my hand. "I'm okay, Alex. Really."

"You have a concussion."

"Mild concussion. There's a difference."

"Not to me there isn't."

The doctor came back in. "We'll move you to a room upstairs in about an hour. No screens, no reading, minimal stimulation because of the concussion. Someone should stay with you tonight in case symptoms worsen."

"I'll stay," I said immediately.

After the doctor left, Damien closed his eyes. "This is not how I planned to spend today."

"What was the plan?"

"Call Trevor's publisher. Threaten legal action. Make the book go away." He opened his eyes. "Now I'm stuck in a hospital bed and Trevor's probably celebrating."

"Trevor doesn't know about the accident."

"Yet. It'll be news once they find the other driver." He shifted and winced again. "Everything hurts."

"You were just in a car accident. Everything's supposed to hurt."

"I don't like it."

"No one likes it. That's why it's called pain."

He almost smiled again. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts my ribs."

---

They moved him to a room two hours later.

Private room, relatively comfortable. Victoria and Marcus visited briefly. Victoria hugged him carefully and told him to stop scaring everyone. Marcus brought his laptop despite the doctor's orders about screens.

"For tomorrow," Marcus said. "When you're feeling better and inevitably ignore medical advice about resting."

After they left, it was just us.

I sat in the chair next to his bed. Damien was trying not to fall asleep, fighting the concussion protocol that required someone to wake him every few hours.

"You should sleep," I said.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because every time I close my eyes I see that car coming at me." He looked at me. "I thought about you. In that split second before impact. I thought about how I'd just gotten engaged and how unfair it would be to leave you before we even got married."

"Don't talk like that."

"I'm not being dramatic. I'm telling you what I thought." He reached for my hand. "And then I was fine. Airbag deployed, car stopped, I was alive. And all I wanted was to see you."

I climbed onto the bed carefully. Lay next to him without touching his injured ribs.

"I'm here," I said.

"I know." He closed his eyes. "Don't let me sleep more than two hours."

"I won't."

He fell asleep within minutes.

I lay there watching him breathe, checking that his chest kept rising and falling steadily. The machines beeped rhythmically. Outside the room, the hospital moved through its routines.

My phone buzzed. Casey checking in. Then James, who Victoria had apparently called. Then three clients asking if everything was okay.

I answered everyone with short texts. Damien's fine. I'm fine. I'll be back tomorrow.

But I wasn't fine. I kept thinking about the phone call from Victoria. The drive to the hospital. The possibility that it could have been worse.

We'd just gotten engaged. Just figured out what we wanted. And in one second, some i***t running a red light could have taken it all away.

Two hours later I woke Damien like the doctor ordered.

"What day is it?" I asked, testing his memory.

"Monday. I was in an accident. You're Alex. We're engaged. I remember everything, stop quizzing me."

"The doctor said to check."

"The doctor is overly cautious." He shifted and winced. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"You should go home. Sleep in an actual bed."

"I'm staying."

"Alex….."

"I'm staying, Damien. We already discussed this."

He didn't argue. Just made room for me on the narrow hospital bed. I climbed back in carefully.

"This is uncomfortable," he said.

"I don't care."

"You're going to have back pain tomorrow."

"Still don't care."

He was quiet for a moment. Then said, "I love you."

"I love you too. Now go back to sleep. I'll wake you in two hours."

*******************

Morning came with doctors and tests and confirmation that Damien could go home.

"Rest for a week," the doctor said. "No driving. No work. No stress. Someone needs to monitor you for the next forty-eight hours."

"I'll make sure he follows orders," I said.

"No you won't. You'll let me work from home and call it monitoring," Damien said.

The doctor looked between us. "He needs actual rest."

"He'll get it. I promise."

We got home around noon. I helped Damien to the couch despite his protests that he could walk fine.

"I'm not an invalid," he said.

"You have bruised ribs and a concussion. Sit down and let me take care of you."

"I don't like being taken care of."

"I know. You're terrible at it. Sit anyway."

He sat. I made him comfortable with pillows and blankets. Brought him water and painkillers. Set up the remote within reach even though he wasn't supposed to watch TV.

"This is excessive," he said.

"This is appropriate for someone who was just in a car accident." I sat next to him. "Let me do this. Please."

He looked at me. Really looked. "You were scared."

"Terrified."

"I'm okay."

"I know. But I'm still allowed to take care of you anyway."

He pulled me closer carefully. "Okay. But just for today."

"We'll see."

We spent the day on the couch. Damien dozed on and off. I worked on my laptop quietly, checking on him every time he stirred.

Around dinner Victoria called.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Stubborn. Bruised. Alive." I looked at Damien sleeping. "He'll be fine."

"Good. Tell him the police found the other driver. DUI. He's being charged."

"I'll tell him when he wakes up."

After we hung up, Damien opened his eyes.

"I heard that," he said. "Drunk driver?"

"Yeah."

"I could have died because someone decided to drive drunk at ten in the morning." He said it flatly. Processing.

"But you didn't. You're here."

"I am." He pulled me closer. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"Good. Because I just got engaged. I'm not planning another wedding."

He almost laughed. Winced. "Don't make me laugh."

"Then stop being almost-funny while injured."

We stayed on the couch until dark. Ordered food. Ate carefully. Went to bed early because Damien was exhausted and I was emotionally drained.

In bed, he said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being here. For taking care of me even though I'm terrible at accepting help."

"You're welcome. Now sleep."

"You'll wake me in two hours?"

"Every two hours until the doctor says otherwise."