This is Love by (Checkmate Duet 2)

“Travis, stop. I trust you more than anyone. You need to rest and shouldn’t waste your strength explaining anything to me.”

I want to argue, tell him that I do have to explain the circumstances that brought Mia and I together on Thursday night, but between the meds and the truth of his words ripping through me, I’m left speechless.

“As crazy as it sounds, I miss her so fucking much. She won’t let me be there for her, and even after what she said to me the last night we were together, I want to be there for her more than anything.”

“Because you’re a good man,” I choke out. He truly is, and as much as it would hurt for him to hear, Mia doesn’t deserve him. Drew deserves better.

He shrugs. “Her parents came up right away, so I gave them privacy. I don’t know what Mia told them about us, so I figured it was best to stay away and let her rest.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly, not having the strength to tell him about Will Tamer. Damn her. I’d like to have forgotten those details, but they are as clear as a California summer sky.

“Your mom was here on Saturday,” he says, changing the subject. I arch my brows, surprised to hear she came. “Stayed for hours, but the nurse said you probably wouldn’t be coherent for a few days, so I told her to go home and get some rest, and I’d call her when you were up for visitors.”

I swallow hard and guilt washes over me. I haven’t called and checked on her recently. Life got in the way is not a good enough excuse. I can’t find my words and all I want to do is go back to sleep, but my mind won’t stop wandering and thinking what if.

“Viola checked in on you, too,” Drew continues. “Surprised she didn’t set a spell to put you in a permanent coma.” He chuckles, making me smile at the thought of her being here.

Viola.

I feel like shit for the way things were left between us. God, I miss her. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking about me being with Mia, but I know it can’t be good. Drew continues talking, filling the room with words, and I keep trying to listen, but with every passing minute, it becomes harder. Focus slips through my fingers like water.

“Bad news, though,” he says, his words bringing me back to him, “the Challenger is totaled.”

“Fucking hell,” I curse, exhaustion completely covering me like a warm blanket. My eyes are heavy, and I’m fighting to stay awake, but I’m drifting farther and farther away from Drew’s voice. Soon everything goes black.

I wake up to a dark room and am completely disoriented on what time it is or if it’s even the same day. I have no fucking idea anymore. I glance around and see a tray of food with green Jell-O and two plastic cups of liquid. I don’t have an appetite, but my throat is still dry.

I’m able to reach over and grab one of the cups. As I finish off the apple juice, I realize I have to piss. I don’t know if there’s a catheter in me or not, so I shift to the end of the bed to find my way to the bathroom.

Within seconds, I realize the pain is too much, and I can’t lift myself up. Jesus. This fucking sucks. I feel like a pathetic, weak pansy.

I see the remote on the side of my bed with a big red button and press it for help.

“Nurses’ station.”

“Uh, yeah… I think I need some help.”

The woman clears her throat. “What can I help you with, Mr. King?”

My voice drops to a whisper, and I’m humiliated even asking. “Uh, bathroom.”

“What was that? Speak up, honey. I can barely hear you.”

I groan, curling my fingers into fists. Fuck it; I’ll do it myself. As I try to stand again, my body screams out in protest and frustration gets the best of me.

Surrendering, I respond, “Pissing. I need to piss, okay?”

“I’ll send someone in.”

At least ten minutes pass and my bladder feels like it’s going to explode. They’ve been pumping me full of fluids and medicine for hours, and it’s finally caught up to me. I’m two seconds away from pissing on the floor when a gray-haired woman walks in.

“Glad to see you’re awake.” She smiles. “I’m Nancy.”

All I can offer her is an impatient smile. She pulls the blankets further back and adjusts her body in front of me to help my balance.

“It hurts to breathe,” I tell her before attempting to stand once again.

“Fractured ribs will do that. You’ll probably be stiff from being in bed for so long, so it’s even more important to start walking around now that you’re out of the haze.” She gives me her arm, and I feel guilty for leaning against her small frame. It takes everything I have not to scream out in pain when I get to my feet. Dizziness surrounds me, my head feels like it splitting in two, and I grab the woman like she’s my saving grace.