Chapter 6- What you Don't Know
1486 Words
Ava POV
Pain.
That was the first thing I felt.
Every damn inch of my body hurt.
I tried opening my eyes, but they felt too heavy. My head throbbed, and even trying to move sent pain shooting through me.
“Princess.”
A voice.
Familiar.
I tried to grab onto it.
“Come on, Princess. Open those eyes for your old man.”
Dad?
Why was Dad here?
I tried to force my eyes open.
Couldn't.
The darkness pulled me back under.
The smell hit me first.
Disinfectant.
Sterile air.
Hospital.
I slowly opened my eyes.
White walls, machines. With an IV ran into my arm.
Something stiff was wrapped around my neck.
C-collar.
I tried turning my head before common sense kicked in and told me that was a terrible idea.
A groan escaped me.
Movement came from beside the bed.
“Oh my God. Ava?”
Mom.
I blinked a few times.
Mom was sitting beside my bed. Dad was there too.
So was Cloe.
All three of them. That was... weird.
“Big sis.”
Cloe jumped from her chair. Her eyes were red and swollen. She'd been crying.
“Ava, sweetie.” Mom leaned forward. “How do you feel?”
“Like I fell down a flight of stairs.”
Nobody laughed. Probably because I actually had.
My entire body f*****g ached.
“I need pain medicine.”
Dad immediately reached for the nurse's button.
“I got you, Princess.”
I looked at him. There was that name again.
Princess.
I hadn't heard him call me that in years.
“How did this happen?” Mom asked.
Her voice shook. I closed my eyes for a second.
Everything came rushing back.
The affair.
Packing.
Giving him the ring.
Walking away.
Then—
“He pushed me.”
Silence.
My eyes opened.
Dad had gone completely still.
Mom stared at me.
“What?”
“Chet pushed me down the stairs.”
Cloe gasped.
“That motherfucker!” Dad growled.
“Daddy!”
“What, Cloe? He put his fuckin' hands on my kid!”
The door opened before Dad could get any louder.
A nurse walked in.
“Well, our patient is awake.”
She came to my bedside.
“I'm Georgia. Can you tell me your name?”
“Ava Sinclair.”
“Date of birth?”
“October eighth, 1996.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Hospital.”
“Do you know why?”
“My asshole ex-fiancé pushed me down a flight of stairs.”
Georgia paused.
Cloe made a strange choking noise that might've been a laugh.
Even the corner of the nurse's mouth twitched.
“Okay. Good. You're alert and oriented.”
“I'm also in pain.”
“How bad?”
“Nine.”
“Any nausea?”
“A little. Mostly thirsty.”
“I can help with both.”
“Thank you.”
She checked my monitor before taking my blood pressure and a few other vitals.
I touched the collar around my neck.
“I'm assuming we're waiting for imaging?”
Georgia nodded.
“Exactly. We're waiting for the physician to review everything before this comes off.”
Made sense.
“I'll get your medication, something you're cleared to drink, and let the doctor know you're awake.”
“Thank you.”
She left.
The room became quiet again. I looked at my family.
“How did you know I was here?”
Dad leaned forward, resting his forearms against his knees.
“Blaze called.”
I frowned.
Oh.
Right.
Spark.
Blaze.
That whole disaster.
Dad's expression darkened.
“Blaze called some brothers after finding out Chet had been f*****g his Ol' lady. His ass wanted to have a conversation with Chet.”
I snorted.
“A conversation?”
Dad shrugged.
“Club conversation.”
Yeah.
I knew exactly what that meant.
“We went into the house and found you at the bottom of the stairs.”
His voice changed. Just slightly. But I noticed.
“You weren't waking up.”
I stared at him.
“How long have I been out?”
“About ten hours.”
Ten hours?
Shit.
My eyes closed.
I didn't even want to think about what Dad and the club had done to Chet during that time.
Actually...
Maybe I did.
One thing about my father had always been strange.
He could forget my birthday.
Forget my graduation. Go months without talking to me.
But if somebody outside the family hurt me?
That was different.
Dad could neglect me himself. But God help anybody else who put their hands on his daughter.
I never understood how those two versions of him existed in the same man.
“We're taking you home when they release you,” Mom announced.
My eyes opened.
Home?
Before I could ask exactly where she thought home was, Georgia returned with another man.
“Good morning, Miss Sinclair.”
He looked to be somewhere in his late fifties.
“I'm Dr. Ryans. Glad to see you awake.”
“Thanks.”
“I'm going to do a quick neurological and physical assessment. All right?”
I nodded as much as the collar allowed.
He checked my pupils first.
Had me follow his finger with my eyes.
Asked me questions.
Name.
Date.
Location.
What happened?
Then came the less pleasant part.
He checked my shoulders, ribs and abdomen.
I winced when he pressed along my side.
“Sorry.”
“It's okay.”
“Any sharp pain here?”
“No. Just sore.”
“Here?”
“Ow.”
“I'll take that as a yes.”
“Very observant.”
He smiled.
“I'm known for it.”
Okay. I liked him.
When he finished, he stepped back.
“Based on your initial assessment, you have extensive bruising and several muscle strains. The good news is that we haven't identified any obvious fractures or signs of internal bleeding at this point.”
I released a breath.
“You also have a laceration along the side of your scalp. It didn't require stitches. We'll want you to keep it clean and follow the wound-care instructions when you're discharged.”
“What about the collar?”
“I'm waiting for the final imaging review. If everything is clear, we'll remove it.”
“Okay.”
“Because you were unconscious for an extended period, we're keeping you for observation. At minimum, I'd like another twenty-four hours now that you're awake. Possibly longer depending on your scans and how you're doing.”
I groaned.
Dr. Ryans smiled.
“I know. Nobody likes being admitted.”
“How long should my daughter rest after she's released?” Mom questioned.
My daughter.
Something about hearing her say it made me glance toward her.
Dr. Ryans looked at Mom.
“That will depend on the final imaging and her progress. But based on what I'm seeing right now, she's going to be extremely sore for at least several days.”
He looked back at me.
“What do you do for work, Miss Sinclair?”
“I'm an RN.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Really?”
“Pediatric office.”
A smile appeared.
“Then I don't have to give you my entire lecture about allowing your body time to recover.”
I sighed.
“I was hoping you'd forget that part.”
“No such luck.”
“Why do you have bedside manner? You're making it harder to hate you.”
Cloe laughed. Dr. Ryans chuckled.
“You lucked out.”
“Apparently.”
“I'll be back once I've reviewed everything.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ryans.”
He left with Georgia.
The room became quiet.
Then I noticed Mom staring at me. Not casually. Really staring.
“You're a nurse?”
I frowned.
“Yeah.”
“A pediatric nurse?”
“Yeah.”
Something strange crossed her face.
A smile tried to form, but her eyes filled with tears instead.
“My mom was a nurse.”
I knew that.
“Yeah.”
“She worked with children too.”
“I know.”
Mom's expression changed. Of course, I knew.
She'd apparently forgotten that I knew more about Grandma than she knew about me.
“I didn't know you...”
She stopped. Her voice disappeared. I knew exactly what she'd been about to say.
I didn't know you became a nurse.
For some reason, I didn't want to hear her finish it.
The pain medication was starting to make everything fuzzy anyway.
My eyelids grew heavy.
“I'm tired.”
“Then sleep, sweetie,” Mom whispered.
I closed my eyes.
The last thing I felt was Cloe's hand carefully slipping into mine.
That felt familiar. That felt safe.
So, I held onto my baby sister's hand as the medicine pulled me back under.
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