Page 128 of Contempt
His brain had to heal.
It would take a while.
He was grateful that the hospital managed to keep the detectives out of his room since he woke up. Although, he heard them loud and clear out in the hallway promising to be back as soon as the doctor approved it for them to have a conversation with Renzo. He didn’t know what to tell them—the last thing he remembered was going down an elevator.
He didn’t even know why he’d been in the elevator. He didn’t know who had been there with him, or why he left it.
He knew nothing.
The brain is a funny thing, his doctor said.
“Ah, your first approved visitor,” the nurse said, drawing him from his thoughts. She smiled at the person standing in the doorway, and it felt like it took minutes for Renzo to turn in that direction, too. He didn’t know who he thought would be standing there, but he knew very well who he wanted it to be.
It wasn’t who he wanted.
It wasn’t Lucia.
Lucian smiled in the doorway, and rested his hands at his front while holding a manila folder. “They decided—and by they, I mean your team of neurosurgeons that were called in from overseas—that I would be the best person to meet with you first. One person a day, and they will progressively allow in those who may cause you more upset or emotional reactions as the days passes.”
The nurse gave Renzo a small smile. “Do you understand what he’s saying?”
He did.
He also didn’t like it.
Something beeped hard in the room.
“That sent his blood pressure up,” the nurse muttered.
Lucian chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. Do you need to be in here, or …?”
The nurse shook her head. “No, but there is the call button should you need us. Do not hesitate to use it.”
“Will do.”
It felt like hours before the nurse was gone, and Lucian was sitting beside Renzo’s bed on a hard, plastic chair he’d pulled closer. He knew it wasn’t hours … but his brain just wasn’t connecting seconds, minutes, and hours to the reality of his situation.
It confused him more.
“A team?” Renzo asked.
Lucian seemed to understand what he was asking even though he hadn’t given him a lot of details about his question. In his head, he gave all the details … his mouth didn’t work to say them, though.
“A friend of my brother’s … he worked with a team of neurosurgeons overseas for an old head injury. Any medical professional worth their weight in head trauma say they are the best of the best, and we all knew that was what you needed, but you were never going to survive the trip, Renzo. They could barely get you into the OR without you coding for that first couple of days. But the clots became worse … they didn’t have a choice.”
“A team?” he asked again.
In his head, he asked, and they came here for me?
Lucian arched a brow. “They were worth every penny, clearly.”
Were they?
Renzo didn’t know.
“I know right now it seems like nothing is right,” Lucian said, “but that’s your brain, Renzo, and it’s just trying to heal. You’ve got to give it time to heal. Every day, something will get better or easier. The more frustrated you are with your recovery time, and the more you fight it, the longer it will take.”
Yeah, okay.
