Authors: Natalie Ann
Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Lawyers, #attorneys, #work relationship
Road to Recovery
Text Copyright 2014 Natalie
Ann
All Rights Reserved
Smashwords Edition, License
Notes
This ebook is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or
it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your
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respecting the hard work of this author.
No part of this book may be used or
reproduced in any manner without a written consent.
Dedication: To my mother,
Natalie. For showing me the true meaning of the word
strength––never giving up
.
Author’s Note
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, events and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.
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Website
http://www.natalieannbooks.com
“
Mac, stop picking at
her.”
The statement caused him to guiltily
drop his sister’s hand. “Shouldn’t she be awake by now?”
Sighing deeply, his patience at its
end, Dr. Richard Malone addressed his son, his normal condescending
tone slightly rising. “You know the answer to that. I know you
chose Pediatrics, but even you should know she will wake up when
she is ready.” He turned to his wife seated in the chair calmly
reading a magazine. “Paula, I’m going to the cafeteria for
coffee.”
Placing her magazine on the
windowsill, she stood up gracefully and ran her hands down her
dress to smooth out any wrinkles. It was assumed she would follow
without being asked. “Yes, dear, a coffee sounds good.” Turning to
her son sitting next to the hospital bed holding his sister’s hand
once again, she asked, “Can we get you a drink,
Mackenzie?”
Never looking up, he answered
absently, “No.”
Once Mac was sure they were alone, he
raised her hand up higher, placed it between both of his, and gave
it a gentle squeeze. With his head bowed down and eyes shut, he
whispered, “Come on, Brooke, wake up.”
He felt her hand move slightly,
whipped his head up and watched as she struggled to wake
up.
***
Brooke fought through the fog, her
brain heavy and her eyes like they had ten-pound weights on them
preventing them from opening. She’d lost track of how long she had
been trying to fight her way out. Every time she came close she
would hear an annoying beeping sound. Each beep radiated through
her skull like a nail down a chalkboard. She wanted it to stop, so
she gave up and let herself drift back under again.
This time she heard voices. Deep
annoyance, mixed with soft pleading. She couldn’t understand why
anyone would be annoyed with her. She was trying to wake up. Surely
someone wasn’t mad at her for sleeping. And why couldn’t she wake
up? Why did everything seem so confusing?
Feeling another nudge on her hand
brought her back a bit more. A voice willing her to open her eyes
continued to speak in gentle tones. But everything seemed too
bright. She wanted to keep them closed, just a little bit
longer.
That voice wasn’t letting up. It
continued to coax her more and more to try to open her eyes. For
some reason the voice drew her in, making her want to see its
source. It was comforting in the mist of the fog she was still
struggling through. The longer she heard it, the more secure she
felt.
Using all her strength, she pushed to
lift those ten-pound eyelids. Only a crack, then bright lights,
causing her to blink them shut again.
Now the beeping increased louder and
faster. Was that her alarm clock? Why couldn’t she shut it off? And
why was it so loud and annoying? She tried to move her hand to turn
it off, but something warm and gentle held it in place.
“
That’s it, Brooke, you can
do it. Open your eyes. It’s me, Mac,” he pleaded. “I’m here. Right
here with you. You’re safe.”
Safe. His voice felt safe. As scared
as she was, she felt she would be fine as long as that voice was
right there with her. Once again, she tried to open her eyes. The
blinding light kept forcing them shut. The light hurt too much.
Maybe the voice would shut the light off for her.
Her tongue felt thick and dry in her
mouth. But she had to try. She needed that light off badly.
Managing to swallow a few times, she finally croaked out,
“Light.”
A scratching noise came next. Then
footsteps and another noise, like something sliding, darkness
beyond her eyelids, finally. Now she could try again.
“
I shut the shade for you.
Was the sunlight bothering you?” the voice asked her
softly.
It must have been later than she
thought if the sun was shining through her window, so she tried to
open her eyes once more. She must really be running late. She was
never late for anything. Urgency finally forced her eyes fully
open.
She found herself staring into a face
she remembered, a face that closely resembled her own.
“Mac?”
“
Yeah. It’s me. Mac. Thank
God, Brooke.” He breathed a sigh.
“
What?” she started to ask
in confusion.
“
Shhh. Just relax. Take a
deep breath.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Listen to me. Take deep
breaths. You were in an accident,” he said as he began to explain
where she was and why.
“
How long?” She was trying
to process her thoughts, but it was a struggle. She seemed to only
be able to come up with a few words at a time.
“
Eight days. You’ve been
here in the hospital for eight days. You were severely injured.
You’ve been kept in a coma while they’ve monitored your injuries
and vitals. Can you feel your legs? Can you move them?” he asked
gently, even though she could sense his urgent state.
Brooke couldn’t understand why he
would ask her if she could feel her legs. Of course she could. What
kind of crazy question was that? But then she realized she
couldn’t. Couldn’t move them—or feel them. The beeps were coming
faster now, relaying the beating of her heart. Her eyes started to
fill with tears.
Seeing her distress, he tried to
soothe her. “Brooke, deep breaths. Come on. It’s fine. You’ve been
in and out of surgery a few times. You are still healing. Don’t
panic.”
Memories started to flood her brain.
Screaming. Bright lights. Rain hitting the windshield. A hand
gripping her arm as she yelled back. Then a loud crash.
Quiet.
Swallowing through the lump in her
throat, she asked, “Robbie?”
Mac’s eyes hollowed as he looked at
hers. “I’m so sorry.”
Brooke lay there, the tears pooling in
her eyes now ran unchecked down her cheeks.
Nine months later
Brooke took a quick drink of water and
then set the bottle in the cup holder of the elliptical bike, but
not before eyeing the treadmill longingly.
“
Nope, not ready,” she
muttered to herself, mentally shaking her head. She refused to be
one of those people who climbed on a treadmill to walk. If she
couldn’t run on it, she wasn’t stepping a foot on it, and there
wouldn’t be any running yet.
Low impact, core and upper body
strength training right now. Baby steps. And that’s exactly what it
was for her—baby steps.
With a sigh, she climbed on the bike,
set the program and started the warm up. Even though she was plenty
warmed up from thirty minutes of weight lifting, to the point where
her arms, back and shoulders burned. No pain, no gain, she reminded
herself for the millionth time in the last several
months.
The hospital gym was quiet right now,
which was strange since it was only a little after five. Then
again, it was a Friday night. Everyone most likely rushed home to
get a start on the weekend. Just like she used to do.
She wanted a change and that was what
she got. It was time to start over, get away from all the hovering
of her family. Time to stand on her two feet, literally and
figuratively.
A new job and a new city was what she
needed. So when she found this job opening over a month ago, she
didn’t hesitate to apply. She had been here two weeks now, settling
into her townhouse and job. Now it was time to get her body whole
again.
Fifteen minutes into her program, she
noticed a group of men enter the gym laughing and joking with each
other. Since a few nurses in their scrubs followed along like
groupies, Brooke assumed those men were doctors.
Before she knew it, one of the men
from the group was on the treadmill to her right and one of the
nurses that came in earlier was climbing on the elliptical next to
her.
Focused on the television in front of
her, even though the local news wasn’t of interest to her, Brooke
continued at her pace, thankful she was almost done. She still felt
out of place here, not used to working in such a big building,
surrounded by so many people. There were thousands of people here,
between employees, patients and visitors. Her last job had a little
over a hundred people on any given day.
She had always been somewhat cool and
withdrawn. She liked people, just from a distance. She had a few
friends, more like acquaintances, throughout her life and was happy
that way. She knew how to conduct herself in any situation,
allowing her to get along with most people. But she really liked to
keep to herself and avoid large groups of people. She always felt
like an outsider, never really warming up to anyone.
“
Hi, I’m Dr. Lester. Dr.
Mike Lester.” Brooke glanced over at the handsome man, who seemed
to be in his mid-thirties, and nodded a polite smile in return. She
silently congratulated herself for pegging him as a doctor upon
first glance when he entered earlier, and an arrogant one at that.
Who introduced himself as “Doctor” unless he was trying to impress
you?