A Chicago story
Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash.
Shiloh stirred at the sound of a familiar, worried voice and someone rummaging through cabinets. But she didn’t have time to recognize who it was before the pain settled in. She groaned. Right, she thought, pressing her hands against her bleeding stomach, I got stabbed. Diesel emerged from his bathroom, his trusty, just-short-of-surgery-ready first-aid kit in tow.
“Don’t try to move yet,” he ordered, tossing the miniature ambulance on the bed beside her.
Her body didn’t register the command; it shivered as she tried to lie still. “I-I’m cold,” she stuttered, her teeth chattering and voice hoarse.
“Yeah, you’re probably in shock,” he replied as he pulled his bedside table closer and removed the shade from the lamp. She squinted as the room around them got brighter. He paused in thought, wagging a finger at her. “Actually…” He turned and started to leave, sending fear pulsing through her.
One of her bloodstained hands flew over and grabbed him by the hem of his shirt to keep him from leaving. He stopped in his tracks and turned back towards her. “Don’t leave,” she whimpered, gripping the fabric tight in her fist as tears burned in her eyes.
He leaned in, covering her shaking hand with both of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere, Princess,” he said with a smile as soft as the tenor of his words. “I’m gonna throw some blankets in the dryer and I’ll be right back. Okay?” He squeezed her hands tighter. “I promise.”
Her head spun, but his reassuring words were enough for her to surrender his shirt. He rushed from the room, disappearing like a ghost. Shiloh squeezed her eyes shut, releasing hot tears. God, it hurts, she moaned as her body throbbed in agony. Focusing on breathing, she inhaled deep through her nose only to choke on the blood that had pooled in from her lip. She turned her face into the mattress, her body screaming with every spasm. A sob burst from her mouth as the fit subsided. God, how can it hurt so bad? she lamented, rolling onto her side and curling into a ball.
“—need to come straight over when you get this,” Diesel barked into the phone as he reentered, bottled water in hand. He hung up, tossed the phone on the bed and sat down next to her. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, so he had to hold her in place to keep her from rolling off the bed. “Okay, we’ve got a problem,” he said, rubbing her upper arm. “I can’t get ahold of Rubes or Kasin, and I’ve gotta get you outta these wet clothes. Is that okay?” She nodded. “All right,” he stood up and placed his hands flat against her shoulder and hip, “roll back over for me.”
She did as she was told, albeit slowly. Every single movement sent waves of pain through her whole body, from her head to her toes.
He made a quick effort of pulling off her shoes and socks, but her damp jeans fought him the entire way. Finally freeing her of the stubborn material, he tossed them to the side and sat on the edge of the bed. “Sit up for me.” She whimpered in protest, pain beating harder through her body at the mere thought. “Unless you want me cutting through that pretty leather jacket of yours, I need you to sit up, okay?” he insisted.
Her quaking hands reached for him.
“Atta girl,” he praised, leaning toward her and wrapping her arms around his neck to pull her up. She hid her face in his shoulder and groaned as he helped her into a sitting position. “Did you drink during your shift tonight?” She pulled away from him, nodding and letting her hands fall from his shoulders and into her lap. “How much?”
“The usual,” she croaked as he flipped open the first aid kit and pulled out a pill bottle. “Couple shots, maybe.”
He poured out one pill from the bottle. “I’ll only give you one of these, then. You can take another in an hour or so if it doesn’t help.” With one hand, he tilted her head back and with the other, he dropped the pill to her mouth. Then he grabbed the water bottle and held it to her quivering lips. She swallowed hard, wincing as it stuck to the sides of her throat. “Your throat hurt?” he asked as he put the bottle down. She nodded, shutting her eyes as he felt up and down her neck with tender fingers. She winced as he did so. “He choke you?” She nodded, and his eyes stormed at the confirmation. He bit his lip to keep from frowning as his fingers stilled beneath the bends of her jaw. “Swallow one more time.”
Shiloh did as she was told, once again, but not without sending him a half-hearted glare. “So bossy.”
The corners of Diesel’s lips turned up in a genuine smirk as he ran the pads of his thumbs gently along her shaking jaw. An involuntary chill coursed down her aching spine. “That’s because I am the boss,” he replied with a wink before standing up and moving behind her. He reached around her and pulled open her jacket. “You’ve still got your sense of humor.” She held her arms back as he worked the leather over her shoulders. “That’s a good sign.”
She opened her mouth to reply with a snarky quip, but instead, shuddered as he exposed her skin to the humid air. He apologized, but she ignored it. She shut her eyes and resisted the urge to pull away from him – he’s helping you, you big baby – but God it hurt. The leather pulled at the cuts on her arms, reopening them as he discarded the jacket on the floor.
“All right, lift your arms,” he said, tugging at the hem of her soaked tank top.
Her arms throbbed at the idea, the slashes burning as the cold air reached them, but she lifted them anyway. She’d gone halfway when sharp pains surged through her chest, emanating from both of her sides. She cried out, arching backward into him. He let go of her shirt and steadied her with his hands at her waist.
“Easy—” he began, but she snapped at him.
“Just cut it off,” she panted, lowering her arms back to her stomach.
Diesel wordlessly cut the bloodied fabric away, as she asked. She desperately tried to keep her composure, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. She took staggered breaths in through her nose and exhaled through chattering teeth. Why can’t you pull it together? she thought, frustration building up inside her as the tears continued to well up and fall. She swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand, keeping the other pressed against her abdomen.
Finally, he’d cut away the shirt and eased it off her skin. “All right, lie back down,” he told her, and, with an arm across her back, helped guide her down to the mattress. “Easy does it.”
“Glad this is easy for you,” she griped through gritted teeth as she laid down flat.
“Trust me,” he replied darkly. “It’s anything but.” A shrill tone floated through the door, and he made sure she was steady in her spot before scurrying out. She struggled to breathe in his absence; her aching ribs made it too difficult. She grunted, agitated. Maybe if you'd stop shaking—
Diesel rushed back in with two blankets fresh from the dryer. But, as he shook them out and moved to drape one over her legs, she became all-too aware of how much she was bleeding.
“I’m okay,” she insisted, waving the blanket away.
“Like hell you are,” he argued, putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t stitch you up if you keep shaking like that.”
Shiloh shook her head, but her energy was fading fast. She wouldn’t be able to object for much longer. “But-but the blood, I’ll ruin—”
“I can get new blankets, Shiloh,” he snapped. “I can’t get a new you. So, you’re gonna shut up—” he shook out the blanket one more time, “—and let me take care of you. Okay?”
Her stomach flipped. He had no idea how attractive he was when he took control like that. She nodded and let her head fall back against the pillow, her cheeks burning as he draped one blanket over her legs. Yeah, sure, there has never been a better time to check him out than now, dipshit, she scolded herself. But who was she kidding? He knew exactly what he was doing, with any woman, at any given time. They were best friends, but neither of them were stupid enough to believe she was the exception to the rule. They’d both caught her checking him out on more than one occasion.
It was his own damned handsome fault. But at least it was distracting her from the pain.
Diesel draped the other blanket over her chest and stomach. She shuddered at the dramatic shift in temperature, but immediately felt some relief. “See?” he said as she pulled the blanket close to her chest. “Isn’t that better?”
She peeled her eyes open in a half-sneer. “Mords-moi.”
He smirked. “Maybe when you’re not bleeding all over my bed,” he joked, reaching somewhere behind him and pulling up a chair. She tried to glare harder, but she must’ve looked too pitiful. He laughed, patting her thigh before pulling the first aid kit closer as well. “I’m kidding, Princess, relax.”
“Just get this over with,” she mumbled, getting weaker by the second. Whether it was the painkiller or the blood loss, she couldn’t be sure. She shut her eyes; all she was sure of is she wanted to sleep.
He lifted the blanket from her stomach. “Looks like the bleeding slowed down,” he thought aloud, pressing his fingers into her belly. She grimaced, keeping her eyes closed. “You don’t feel distended at all, either. You’re probably not bleeding internally.”
She scoffed. “Please, sound a little less confident.”
“I’ll try,” he reassured her. If she hadn’t been so tired, she would’ve smiled or laughed or something. She heard the sloshing of liquid before he warned her, “This is gonna sting.”
She kept her eyes closed. “Just do it fast.”
He pressed an alcohol-soaked cloth on her stomach, and she inhaled sharply with a hiss. “Sorry.”
Stars danced across her vision. “Are you?”
“Very,” he said through clenched teeth. She peeked at him through her eyelids – he was blurrier than she’d hoped he’d be – as he threaded the needle. “I wouldn’t be if Brody’d pick up the damn phone and do this himself. But everyone picked tonight of all nights to be unreachable.”
“He’s not on call tonight?” she panted.
“Not at the hospital, at least.” Diesel eyed her over the needle. “¿Estás bien?” She nodded, but the bed beneath her spun and pulled her deeper into it. “Hey—” Diesel gripped her thigh and shook it , getting her attention with a sharp gasp. She blinked at him with absent eyes. “—I know you’re tired, but you gotta try to stay awake for me, ¿entiendes?”
She nodded, but he continued to shift in and out of focus as dark spots littered her vision.
The next time he said her name, he sounded so far away. “Shiloh.” It echoed through her like a whisper in a cave. “Shiloh.” She shivered as his voice bounced around and rested in the recesses of her mind. So soothing… she sighed as she settled deeper into the mattress. Diesel's silhouette loomed over her and tried to shake her awake. Shiloh, stay awake. She shook her head. I don’t want to, she thought with a moan. Please.
The darkness overwhelmed her once more.
PART THREE COMING SOON.
In the meantime, check out how Shiloh and Diesel met in:
Or, if you'd rather read about them getting a little too cozy, read the four-part series:
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