Читать книгу Every Chance I Get - AlTonya Washington - Страница 8

August 2005

New York

Talib Mason planned on finding a ticket plastered to his windshield by the time he returned to the parking lot. He didn’t give a damn, of course. So what if he parked on the curb and dangerously close to a fire hydrant? He’d already done well enough to reach his destination without wrecking the car along the way.

He’d spent the better part of the day cursing himself for letting the argument with Misha get so far out of hand. He slammed the elevator button with his fist. To accuse her had been unfair. That story could have only been leaked by someone with inside knowledge. But he had accused her, and he’d been at his cruelest while he’d done it. The things he’d said…

It felt like his heart was about to crush his ribs. It’d been pounding viciously ever since he’d spoken with her assistant.

At that time of night, the corridors of St. Joseph’s Hospital were almost completely silent. The third-shift nurses were either making rounds or engaged in light conversation while gathered around their station. Conversation ceased, though, when the four women at the nurses’ station caught sight of the man who rushed from the elevator and bounded toward them. The fact that he appeared as provocative as sin did nothing to mask the outrage darkening his expression.

“Misha Bales.” Added to his dark expression was the abrupt tone in his voice. The tone was unavoidable, given his fear that he was about to lose her. The usually seductive level of his British-laced brogue came across as harsh and dangerous.

Given the circumstances, the nurses were hesitant to release any information. They exchanged uncertain glances. This did nothing to soothe Talib’s temper, already teetering close to the edge of explosion. Silently he warred with himself, gripping the edge of the counter as he bowed his head. Security was but a button’s push away as he was sure the nurses were well aware. Thankfully, the world wasn’t completely against him.

“Talib? Talib, is that you?”

He heard his name and saw Dr. Lettia Breene approaching the station.

The lovely full-figured obstetrician wore a concerned frown as she could all but feel the tension in the air. “I hope you’re here for a checkup.” She took note of his haggard appearance, then asked the nurses, “What’s going on?”

Talib responded first. “Misha’s here, Lett.”

“Misha?” Lettia turned back toward the nurses.

RN Connie Wesley checked a book on the desk and nodded. “Car accident, Dr. B.” She looked toward her colleagues who were all nodding.

“It was about four hours ago,” Nurse Adrian White added and passed Lett the report on Misha. “The EMTs said she had to be pried out of the car.”

“Jesus,” Talib moaned.

Lett set aside the chart and put a hand on his shoulder. “What room is she in?”

Minutes later, Talib was being directed toward the unit where Misha was being treated. The six-foot-plus former linebacker had to lean on the doctor when he saw Misha bandaged and resting in the dim room.

“God,” Lettia whispered. She was just as devastated as Talib was, shaking her head slowly in disbelief.

“It’s my fault.” Emotion had rendered Talib’s voice raw.

“Shh…” Lettia rubbed his back. “Honey, blaming yourself won’t do either of you any good.”

“It’s my fault.”

“Talib—”

“Don’t tell her I was here.”

“But, Talib, she’ll—”

“Swear it, Lett.”

“Honey, why?”

“Just swear it, Lettia.”

She nodded, even as she searched his face in wonder. “All right,” she said when he took her shoulders.

Satisfied, he turned back to Misha. She was already uncommonly small and the bed she occupied looked gargantuan with her in the middle of it.

“Will she…be okay?” His voice wavered while he brushed his thumb across the bruises darkening her jaw and cheek.

Lettia nodded, easing a hand into the pocket of her white coat. “From what I read in the chart, everything points toward her making a full recovery. It’s gonna take time though. She banged herself up pretty badly.”

Talib leaned in close to study Misha intently, as if he were trying to memorize her features—battered as they were.

“Remember, you swore not to tell her I came here.”

“Tal—”

“Lettia.”

“I won’t.”

Gingerly, Talib kissed an uninjured area on Misha’s forehead. “I love you,” he whispered against her skin, and then left the room.

“Tal…Tal? Talib…” Misha was stirring mere seconds after the door closed.

Lettia glanced over her shoulder, debating on whether to go after Talib. Instinct told her that a line had been crossed between the couple and it was best to let things be.

“Talib…I…I’m sorry.”

“Honey, shhh…” Lettia spoke near her friend’s ear.

Misha rolled her head slowly across the pillow. She frowned, trying to open eyes that were swollen shut.

Lettia pressed a hand to her hair. “Shh…honey you need to rest. Shh…”

“He has to know I’m sorry. He has to know it….” Her words could barely be heard as they tripped past her bruised lips.

Lettia kissed the spot Talib had earlier. “He does, hon. He does.”