All I need is her. She’s my little drug. The only prescription and treatment that can do what no other remedy can. I want to cry out to the ceiling when I feel her hand going lower, sneaking in between our bodies and hell yes, she’s going to stroke the part of my anatomy that needs her the most and I groan,
“That’s it, sweet cheeks. Be a good little wifey to your husband...you know how to work me...”
Abruptly cutting off the kiss, she pants and looks up at me with hooded and embarrassed eyes. Growling, I snarl, “Why’d you stop?”
“I don’t know how to work you, John.” She drags a nervous hand through her hair. “I don’t know anything about you.”
Lie. She has to know. She has to know why we don’t have kids yet. Frowning I figure it must be because she’s young. At thirty-one I’m more mature than her. Maybe I wanted to give her some time.
“This was a mistake...,” she breathes, “I shouldn’t have...”
“Where are you going?” I snarl when she moves toward the door. “I wasn’t done yet.”
“Stop thinking I’m yours!” she cries and she looks bedeviled and lost. “How stubborn do you have to be? You must’ve hit your head real hard when you fell from that bridge!”
Tensing, I bore my eyes into her. “Whatbridge?” Stalking toward her, I corner her and her back presses against the door. “Are you the one who made the 911 call?”
I’ve been told an anonymous woman had made the call and Autumn’s eyes widen. “N...no,” she stutters, obviously scattered by my closeness and she turns the knob. The door opens and Autumn falls on her butt in the corridor. She scurries, pointing at me when nurse Hilma comes running.
“There he is. He should be in bed but he got lost that’s all...” Trailing off, she looks like she’s contemplating something. And it’s something that I don’t like. I want to curse the whole world when I feel my consciousness slowly leaving me and I get shoved into a wheelchair.
Autumn silently watches, her breaths ragged and she flinches when my fingers brush her arm as I get pushed down the hallway. “Chasing you would kill me...,” I groan, fearing she’ll run and I plead, “Please...have...mercy...”
Her jaw slacks and I grow rabid at the thought of her showing no mercy, being all self-seeking and panic goes to my head. Fuck, I can’t ever let her go...
And suddenly it feels like steam’s coming out of my ears and I can’t breathe.
He ends up having a panic attack. It practically takes a whole village to hold him down. He doesn’t like being out of control, can’t stand the vulnerable state he’s in and he watches me with wild eyes. His hands reach for me, trying to grab me and they dig into my flesh. I choke on a groan as I help the male nurses to hold him down. When one of the male nurses, tries pushing an oxygen mask over John’s face, John grabs him by the collar and nearly chokes him out.
Fearing he’ll manage, I snatch the mask and put it over John’s face myself. He eases. Because he lets me do anything. His eyes flutter and he mutters something I can’t hear. One arm sneaks around my waist and he pulls me closer to the bed. The male nurses look on with disapproval but they know better than trying to interfere. I have a feeling that if any of them attempted to separate me from John, then John would probably try to burn this whole place down.
When his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out, I let out a breath of relief. He’s a handful. And I’m beat. Backing, I lean against the wall and it’s a miracle I don’t collapse. I probably look just as frazzled as I feel and I rub the back of my hand over my forehead. This whole day’s been chaotic and it isn’t even noon yet. Thank goodness he’s asleep for now.
Watching him through hooded eyes, I pay attention to the hysterical way his chest keeps rising and falling. Even when he’s not conscious he still has a tough time and I take a deep breath and put my hand over his heart. His features are strained as if he’s worried I won’t always be close and I wait for his breathing to return to a normal rhythm. Once I’m sure he’s okay, I leave.
For the rest of the day, I go on with my usual duties. I help the nurses, read to a couple of patients and then it’s time for me to clean up in the cafeteria before I go home.
“Watch out,” Hilma warns. “Your “husband’s” in there.Sulking.” Chuckling to herself, she waddles off and I squirm. John better not make a scene. There’s not a lot of patient’s in there but most of them sit in a group. Everyone except for John who sits on his own with his head bent and his arms in front of him. His fists are so clenched his veins bulge and I sneak over to him.
I’m just going to make my presence known and I put my hand on his shoulder. He flinches like I burned him, grabs my wrist and puts my hand to his mouth to give it a frantic kiss. His eyes shudder and he moans against my skin, or growls is more like it.
“Scratchy,” I whine when his beard prickles me and he lets go and looks up at me with gratitude in his eyes.
“They told me you’d left.”
“Got an hour more.”
“Sit down,” he pleads between his teeth. “I need company.”
“And I need to work,” I murmur.
John silences, making me feel guilty and I sit down on a chair opposite him. There’s a tray in front of him but he hasn’t touched anything. He really should eat. Rubbing my forehead, I sigh and his eyes roam over my face, lingering slightly down my body but quickly go to my eyes again.
“You look exhausted, sweet cheeks,” he mutters and I flay out with my hands, crying,