The Gem (D'Arth Book 4) Read online

  "Alright," he said and Shay got up and walked down the hall, pressing the button for the lift when she got there. It was a busy ward, but that was expected with a day surgery ward. Others were coming, getting set up for their surgeries that day. Hopefully she'd end up working in a ward just like this; it was what she'd trained for.

  The shop down on the ground floor wasn't hard to find and it was full of cheery ‘get well’ merchandise. Shay realised she hadn't asked what kind of magazines he wanted, so she ended up getting him a businessy type of magazine and a luxury car one. With his car totalled, he'd need a new one and she suspected it wouldn't be some mid-sized Honda. His car would cost more than the house she would eventually buy at some point in her life. She bought herself something gossipy as well. She didn't usually buy magazines, but she wanted something that would distract her.

  A couple of nurses were there when she got back. They had managed to get Peter into a hospital gown and he lay with his legs crossed, likely feeling emasculated in the non-descript gown. The women finished up preparing him.

  "You alright?" she asked when they'd left.

  "You really do need to stop asking me that."

  "Sorry. I got you these."

  He grabbed the magazines and started flicking through them without really taking anything in. Shay sat down again, breaking off a piece of chocolate from inside her bag.

  After a long while, the surgeon came, dressed in blue scrubs and sat down on a stool next to Peter's bed. His name was Mendelson and he ran through the surgery and the risks while at the same time filling in his chart. They were set to start in an hour. When finished, the surgeon left again. "They really churn you through like a factory, don't they?" Peter said when the man had gone.

  "It's an orthopaedic day surgery unit; it is geared to do as many a day as it can."

  The porters came and it was time for Peter to go. They helped him into the wheelchair and took him away. Shay knew this would take a few hours and there was nothing for her to do. The room was quiet and empty after he’d left and she left the magazines there and went down to the lobby again. Leaving the hospital, she walked down the street to a Sainsburys and bought herself a sandwich. She hadn't felt right eating in front of Peter while he couldn't.

  Finding a spot in a park, she checked her Facebook page while sitting in the gentle sun. There was a slight nervousness in her, too. She hadn't quite gotten the nurse mentality set yet. She couldn't detach from the situation and was as nervous as if it was someone in her family in there.

  She wandered around the shops, not really looking at anything, then texted Jess for a while, asking how things had gone during her second date with the rugby guy. Jess liked him apparently and Shay wondered if this guy would become Jess' boyfriend. It had taken her like two minutes to get into a relationship. It wasn't something that was even on Shay's mind at the moment, but Jess, on the other hand, liked having a boyfriend and felt a bit incomplete when she didn't.

  Her phone ringing broke into her musings. It was the hospital saying Peter was out of surgery. Shay rushed back.

  "He's still in recovery, but as you are his nurse, I suppose you can go in and see him if you want," one of the nurses on the desk said.

  After dropping her bag off in the ward room, she made her way into recovery which was mostly empty. Peter lay behind a checkered curtain that hung around his bed. He was still unconscious and the external fixture was gone. He looked so innocent lying there with his eyes closed—a deceptive picture if she ever saw one. She snorted slightly and moved closer, reaching out and stroking the hair at his temple. Strange Peter Dunham—so completely alone.

  "If you're going to stroke me, you should do it lower down," he said without opening his eyes. A small smile crept onto his lips. Even barely conscious, everything was about sex with him. His bristles and spines were firmly back in place. Shay pulled her hand back sharply. She would never have done it if she'd known he was conscious.

  Chapter 9

  * * *

  If Peter hated her boots, he'd probably despise beyond reason what she wore now, which was tight and clingly, showing off her curves, but this is what people wore to clubs. Peter probably didn't do clubs where the music shook the walls and the beat drove one to dance. But then it didn't matter what Peter thought; he was in hospital being cared for by others, so Shay had the night off and Jess wanted to go out. The music was pumping and Shay had been dancing for hours.

  She was a bit drunk, but mostly she was just happy and excited to be in London. Guys were hitting on her, but she wasn't all that interested. The last thing she wanted was to be saddled with some longwinded relationship and all the dramas that went with it. Even Jess was a bit over guys as the rugby guy had turned out to be both clingy and manipulative.

  "Should we go take a breather?" Jess asked, fanning herself. She literally turned red when she got hot.

  Shay pointed to the garden bar out the back where everyone smoked. Neither of them were smokers, but it was the only place with outside air, unless they left the club. "I'll get us some drinks."

  Shay made her way outside and found a spare table with two rickety seats standing on white gravel. Steam was practically rising off her and the cold air felt lovely on her hot skin. Who needed a workout when there was dancing? Better cardio didn't exist.

  Within a few minutes, when Shay closed her eyes and relaxed, Jess turned up with two pale green drinks. Shay had no idea what it was, but it tasted alright.

  "We haven't had a good night out in, like, weeks. I like this place," Jess said and leaned back on the brick wall behind her. "But now that I have an income, we can start exploring the nightlife a bit more. Where's your demanding cripple tonight?"

  "Don't call him a cripple," Shay said, not quite sure why she was defending him—more like, objecting to the term in general. "He's in hospital. Just had his surgery."

  "So he has someone else to boss around for once. Bet he's an utter terror on the ward."

  "Probably," Shay chuckled.

  Jess stretched out, drawing admiring glances from some of the male patrons. "I was thinking," she said. "Now that we're both earning money, we should go for a trip or something. We did say we would explore as much as possible. What about Turkey?"

  "Turkey?" Shay said with surprise. Turkey sounded like such an exotic place. "That does sound awesome. I'll have a look for something." With all the sitting around watching Peter sleeping, Shay had plenty of time to have a look for a holiday destination, even if it felt a little strange going on holiday when they'd just gotten here—but then there was all of Europe to see, and maybe even further afield like Turkey and Tunisia. The idea really was growing on her.

  Although it had been a day surgery unit he'd been in, Peter had ended up staying the night in the hospital and he'd been exhausted enough to sleep through the night. He didn't feel any pain, other than the sight of the revolting breakfast they'd given him.

  Nurses had checked his dressing and fussed around, but mostly left him alone. The mechanical contraption on the side of his leg was gone and he looked normal, which he was pleased about.

  For the most part, he'd just watched the anaemic channels on the old TV high in the corner of his room or flicked through the magazines Shay had got him, yet again. Hospitals really were the epitome of boring and he's spent way too much time in them recently.

  "Hey," he heard from the door, where Shay was standing in jeans with a jacket in her hands. Her t-shirt was loose, but the thin material seemed to show off her curves anyway. This was the garb of the artless young woman—too young for style, but plenty of attitude. There was no artifice in her at all—no expert hair-stylist making every strand of hair conform to the currently trendy hairstyle, no manicured nails and no cleverly applied make-up, just in-your-face natural and the looks to pull it off.

  "It's close to lunch time," he accused. He'd expected her there first thing in the morning, but she just hadn't turned up.

  "You didn't need me."

&nb
sp; Shay walked into the room and sat down in the chair. "How are you feeling? I spoke to the nurse. You can go after the surgeon speaks to you."

  "I know. They told me. Have you been drinking?" She didn't look like it, but she had wet hair from very recent shower, which suggested she'd just gotten up.

  "Last night," she said and looked away.

  Peter leaned back and watched her, unsure whether he felt angry or jealous, or just spiteful. "So I was lying in hospital and you went out partying?"

  "You didn't need me. I'm not your slave, you know. I'm allowed a personal life."

  "Who told you that?" he said, but the surgeon came in and cut off Shay's response. He was being completely unreasonable, and he knew it, but for some reason he was really pissed off that she'd gone out and partied.

  "Mr. Dunham," the surgeon said, picking up his chart. "Everything went really well yesterday. The rod is in place and your bone will heal around it as I explained. I'll just have a quick look at your wound and if all is fine, I'll have the nurses start the discharge. I understand you will have assistance at home." The surgeon's eyes flicked to Shay, and Peter swore he was checking out her legs in those skinny jeans. Eyes off my nurse, he wanted to say. "Keep the wounds covered for the next week or so, even during showers. Other than that, start going about things as normal." The surgeon had a look at the dressing at Peter's hip and knee, and scribbled in the chart again. "The bruising around your spine is settling nicely. I would encourage you to start moving again—walking every day. You will get stronger and you'll recover faster. Any questions?"

  "When can I, you know, … fuck?" Peter asked, smiling as he caught Shay hastily looking away, blushing bright red. He wouldn't normally have been so crude, but he kind of felt like punishing Shay for partying the previous night.

  "You need to give the wounds a bit of time to heal before strenuous activity. A good two weeks."

  "Two weeks?" Peter reiterated with dismay. Two weeks without sex felt like a lifetime.

  "Right," the surgeon continued. "I'll get everything started with the nurses." He left the room. It was amazing how relieved Peter felt to be leaving, and that everything was alright now. He hadn't realised how this surgery had been hanging over him, preying on his peace of mind, but there was nothing in the way of his recovery now.

  A smiling nurse came into the room. "Would you like some lunch before you go?"

  "No," Peter stated. Over his dead body would he subject himself to another hospital meal.

  "Alright, just a few minutes," the nurse said and left.

  Peter moved to the side of the bed and Shay got up to help him. "So where did you go last night? Or should I ask where you slept?"

  "None of your business," she said tartly.

  "Oh, very defensive."

  Awkwardly, he stood while Shay retrieved the soft, stretchy pants she'd bought him. He swore he'd burn those as soon as he got home. It was embarrassing having someone dress him, but he felt too stiff to really do so himself. She got his shirt. "I can do it," he said and took the shirt from her when she held it out. The damned gown was tied in the back so he had to lift it over his head and Shay hovered, ensuring he didn't lose his balance.

  "Wheelchair," she ordered. He wanted to argue, but it would take them really long to get out of here if he walked. It was bad enough that she had to crouch down and tie his shoelaces for him. Everything about this whole experience had been demeaning and it really put the fear of losing everything in him. Before this accident, he hadn't really believed it was possible he could be reduced to a state like this, but it was possible and it had happened.

  Shay left the room and went to retrieve his discharge papers, returning to wheel him out. He wasn't sure he had ever been so happy to leave a place behind. "I'm hungry," he said when they got to the lobby.

  "We haven't got your wallet and I'm broke."

  "That's what happens when you spend every penny in a club somewhere. Let's go past the apartment then. I'm not ready to go back to bed. I've sick of being in bed. But I'll have to change; I'm not going out dressed like this."

  A cab was waiting outside when they got there and it was easier to get in without the contraption on his leg, but he still moved awkwardly. Saying that though, with the drugs in his system, he didn't care as much.

  He let her wheel him up to the apartment. It was good to be home and it was bright outside showing most of London outside his window. He couldn't wait to get out there and he felt more content than he had in a while.

  "Are you sure you want to leave? I can go get something and bring it back."

  "No."

  "Okay. What do you want to wear?"

  "The grey suit."

  "A suit? Really?"

  "Yes, a suit. It is what is expected at where we're going."

  He couldn't see it, but he was sure Shay grumbled. Standing, he put on the suit pants with Shay's help, then ripped off the polo shirt, leaving his chest bare. He felt better already. The shirt was crisp and clean, and every little button felt like armour going on. Then last, the jacket and he was back to normal. His life had taken a little detour, but that was over now. Peter smiled.

  Chapter 10

  * * *

  They got back from the restaurant and Peter was exhausted. It had been a nice place where the waiters all seemed to know him, but his mind had been more willing than his body. He'd tried to hide how tired he was getting, but he had been leaning pretty heavily on her when they'd left.

  Shay had put him to bed as soon as they got back and he was now sleeping. She felt sorry for him. He was so keen on getting back to normal, refusing to acknowledge that he still needed to recover.

  Sitting on the marble floor in front of the large windows with views over London at dusk, inflamed with pinks, purples and reds, she scrolled through the internet on her phone, looking at flights to Turkey. She'd found some good ones to Budrum and she could book them as soon as her next pay appeared in her account. She lay down on her side and just took in the view for a moment. London stretched out before her and she was still so excited to be here.

  Peter finally stirred. He was a little overdue for his medication, but Shay had felt sleep was more important. She got him a glass of water and took it to him, along with his pills that sat in her palm. His eyes were still closed, but he was awake.

  "Here," she said. "It's time for your pills." Groaning, he placed his wrist over his eyes. "Are you in pain?"

  "A little." His voice was rough with sleep and it was kind of sexy. Again, Shay was hit with the notion that she was witness to private things. Reaching over, he took the pills out of her palm and swallowed them with the help of the water. "I feel like shit."

  "Your body's been through an ordeal and it's going to make its objection known over the next few days. I shouldn't have let you go to the restaurant."

  "You're not my keeper. You couldn't have stopped me."

  Shay had suspected as much, but she should have made more of an objection. How stupid could she have been, letting her patient gallivant off to a restaurant right after surgery? She should have put her foot down. Again, she wondered if she had the right instincts to do this job.

  She could tell Peter was a bit downbeat by his failure to immediately return to his normal life. This was her fault too; she should have managed his expectations better. "I should have made more of an effort."

  "So here I am; back in bed."

  She would make a joke, but suspected he wasn't in the right mood. It was time for her to go, but she didn't want to leave him on his own, especially as she knew he was feeling awful and disappointed with himself. "How about a nice greasy pizza? I reckon you've earned a bit of comfort food."

  "I'm not hungry. But order one if you want."

  "Or I can cook. Anything you want."

  "I'm not sure your cooking skills stretch that far."

  "Are you complaining about my cooking?"

  "It isn't fine dining."

  Shay was just glad to have him talking,
even if the topic was her inadequacies in the kitchen. Normally, she would be the first to admit it, but it was still rude of him to point it out. "I bet it's better than your cooking."

  "Undoubtedly."

  "There is a Greek place down the street that does pizza," Shay said.

  "I hadn't noticed." Too down-market for his tastes, Shay noted.

  "I'll go get one, but you have to pay."

  Peter grabbed his wallet from the bedside table and withdrew his card, holding it out to her. "Here," he said, but didn't relent when she grabbed it. "No shoes, no handbags."

  "I'm just buying a pizza. I'm not gonna go to town on your card. Suspicious much?"

  After repeating his pin in her head, she went out. The street was busy with people and the mad pace contrasted with the quiet serenity of Peter's apartment. It was rush hour and there were people everywhere. The Greek place was frantic with dinner orders, which Shay felt was a good thing. Popular places were normally popular because they were good.

  Shay ordered, then sat down on the one free bar stool by the window. She pulled out her phone and texted Jess.

  I'm staying a bit longer tonight

  He can't just order you around all the time. Ur entitled to a personal life

  It's just been a rough day. I don't want to leave him alone tonight.

  Ur too soft

  I'll see you later

  Shay put the phone away and looked around. A guy was standing in the doorway with his dog, and there was a woman wrapped in a coat, nursing a cold, while another of Middle Eastern descent talking loudly on her phone. This was London—everything at the same time.

  With a smile, Shay walked back to Peter's building, carrying a white pizza box. It smelled beautifully. Not even Peter would be able to resist it.