A Chicago story
Photo by Amir Borhan on Unsplash
Someone called her name, their soft voice echoing through the darkness. “Shiloh…” She stirred as the sound reached her ears. He sounded familiar, but nervous. Should I be worried about that? she wondered. She willed herself to fall back into a deep sleep, but something tap-tap-tapped her nose.
She flinched before peeling her eyes open. Diesel, perched on the edge of the bed, loomed over her. “There she is,” he murmured, an affectionate smile softening the worried grimace on his face. He took a warm, damp washcloth to her cheek, wiping away a trail of dried blood. “You had me worried, Princess.”
Shiloh frowned at him, her mind spinning to catch up with her surroundings. “D-Did you just… boop my nose?” she croaked as thunder rumbled outside.
He grinned, laughing softly at the absurdity. “It was that, or mouth-to-mouth." He dabbed at the blood smears above her eye. “I figured you’d prefer a good boop.”
She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Weird ass…”
He chuckled and tossed the washcloth to the side. “Guilty as charged,” he said, reaching down and taking one of her hands in his own. He frowned, wiped his hands on his shirt, then retook said hand with both of his. “How are you feeling? You’re a little clammy.”
With her free hand, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not good,” she moaned, then let her hand fall with a sigh, “but better, I guess.” He nodded, his glassy eyes scanning hers. Then, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. “Je vais bien,” she reassured him with a soft smile.
He smiled back at her, tapping her nose once more. “I’ll be the judge of that.” He picked up a stethoscope from his right and put it in his ears. She watched him pump air into the cuff around her arm through half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed. He had one of those? And he knew how to use it? She gulped as heat spread up her neck. In her feverish state, that nurturing side of him was terrifyingly attractive. If she wasn’t careful, she might admit it aloud.
After a long, quiet moment, Diesel hung the stethoscope around his neck. “84/50. That’s pretty low,” he ripped the cuff off her arm, “but higher than it was. Good news, I guess.” She stared at him, her cheeks flushing as a bashful smile creeped up her lips. That cheeky bastard doesn’t even try. God, he’s so hot. He turned his head, his own smile widening. “What?”
“You, like, remind me of…” She gulped, her mouth running dry as he ran his calloused fingers across her knuckles. “…Mark Sloan.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Who?”
“Dr. McSteamy.” An uncharacteristic giggle passed her lips, immediately followed by a howl of pain.
Diesel smiled through a cringe. “You’re definitely high on painkillers if you’re saying that out loud.” He threw off the stethoscope and stood up. “Let’s get you in some clothes before you get any bright ideas.” He held his hands out to her.
“You’re the…” She reached for him with one hand, holding the blanket to her chest with the other. “…b-bright idea guy.” He pulled her up in one fluid motion, and she held her breath to stifle another cry of pain. He muttered an apology, keeping her steady as she swung her legs off the bed. She exhaled through pursed lips, her head hanging low. As he sifted through his drawers, she examined her newly-bandaged arms.
No blood seeping through, no stitches snagging the gauze. All those first-aid classes she’d dragged him to paid off. Even after all his wasted effort to talk his way out of them. She’d known it would come in handy... even though she loathed being the one reaping the benefits.
She started to lift the blanket away to check the stitches on her stomach, but she froze; her bra was missing. Her stomach flipped, a furious blush storming her cheeks. Did he—?
“Yeah, I had to, uh, cut that off,” he admitted, now standing in front of her. She covered her face with one hand. This could not be happening. “Shame, too. It was a cute bra.”
She pulled the blanket closer to cover the blush creeping up her naked chest. Two minutes ago, she was flirting with him oblivious to the fact he’d basically seen her naked. After all these years of knowing him, she’d managed to avoid such a turn of events. She’d fantasized the first time allowing him to see her naked would be in a… very different context. She shook her head to rid the racy thoughts from her mind. “I swear to God, if you—”
He scoffed, holding his hands up in surrender. “Relax. It’s not like I haven’t seen my fair share of boobs.”
Her glare sharpened. “Not mine,” she seethed, willing her voice not to shake.
Diesel rolled his eyes, making no effort to hide the amusement on his face. “Shiloh, consider how many women I’ve slept with. If I can’t take a woman’s clothes off without looking, that would make me a shitty lover. And I'm no shitty lover.” Shiloh set her jaw and kept glaring daggers at him. The heat in her chest had turned into a full-on blush she was desperately trying to hide. Diesel held a finger up. “Okay, you look like you’re about to slap me, so I’m gonna remind you that I just spent a lot of time patching you up. So, if you are gonna slap me, please try not to pop a stitch.”
She gulped and shut her eyes, finding it difficult to maintain the offended façade. “If I only had the strength…” she muttered, trailing off as the all-over blush turned back into full-body pain. Fire pulsed through her in waves, nausea in its wake. She leaned forward on her bandaged arms, groaning as her head throbbed in sync with her racing heart.
“I swear, I kept you covered the best I could, okay? But I had to dress those cuts,” he explained, kneeling in front of her. She was looking down at him now, eyes burning with fresh tears. He squeezed her knees, wary of the bruises forming on them. “You know I wouldn’t do anythingto break your trust, right?”
She internally groaned. As much as they joked about his whorish behavior, Diesel was as chivalrous as they came. She was safe with him; both her body and heart were. However, she also knew (much to her disappointment) he would never see her… that way.
“I know that,” she croaked, a reassurance to him and reminder to herself, as pain shot down her spine. She winced, straightening her back. “I’m just… embarrassed.”
He waved her off. “Don’t be. I was very respectful, I promise.” He shrugged before adding, “And anyway, what I could see was very nice. So, there's nothing embarrassing about that department.” He winked. “Trust me.”
She scoffed; a ghost of a smirk apparent on her lips. “And you would know, wouldn’t you?”
He mirrored her smirk with his own. “I have seen my fair share,” he repeated. She shook her head at him, immediately regretting it as the room spun around her. She moaned, swaying where she sat. Worry replaced his playful demeanor, and he held her by the shoulders. “You okay?”
Shiloh exhaled, even as a weight pressed against her chest. She tried to nod, to look at him, but she felt so heavy, so tired. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Jus dzzy…” she slurred.
He swore under his breath as he pulled a sweatshirt over her head, careful of the bandage on her temple.
“S-So tired…” she whispered as she clung to him. Stars danced across her eyes as she buried her face in his neck. Her heart pounded so hard against her skull she could feel it in her fingertips.
“I know, Princess,” he replied. “We’re almost done, I promise. Put your arms in.” She did as she was told, even with her arms growing heavier by the second. “All right, stand up,” he ordered, guiding her arms up and around his neck. She whimpered at the movement, darkness creeping across her vision.
She tried to protest, wait, I can’t, but only mumbled nonsense escaped her lips. He snaked his arms around her to pull her up to her feet. He held her close, her pained cry muffled against his neck. Mumbling another apology, he kept one arm around her as he pulled the blankets back with the other. Her legs buckled, and he tightened his grip to keep her from crumpling to the ground. “I’ve got you, Princess,” he murmured into her hair. He bent down, hooked an arm underneath her knees, and lifted her onto the bed. “I’ve got you.”
Shiloh sank into the mattress, the Earth spinning beneath her. Her eyes fluttered closed as he covered her in a heavy blanket, his words echoing in the distance.
I’ve got you, Princess. His calloused fingertips brushed her hair out of her face. She exhaled and leaned into his touch as the world darkened around her. I’ve got you.
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