An Unforgiving Desert – Chapter 20

The world is a blur of harsh lights and cacophonous noise as we arrive at the hospital. My head feels like it’s been split open with a dull axe, and every movement sends waves of nausea crashing through me. The antiseptic smell, so typical of hospitals, makes my stomach churn even more. Fuck, I hate hospitals.

“Skylar? Can you hear me?” Vivian’s voice cuts through the chaos, sounding distant and muffled, like she’s speaking through layers of cotton.

I try to nod, but even that small movement makes me want to hurl. The world spins, and I grip the edges of the gurney to steady myself. “Yeah,” I manage to croak out, my throat feeling like sandpaper.

Suddenly, I realize Kalvin isn’t next to me anymore. Panic surges through me, making my heart race. “Where’s Kalvin?” I demand, my voice cracking.

“He’s being taken care of, don’t worry,” Vivian assures me, her face swimming in and out of focus. But I’m not having it.

“No, I need to see him. He was hurt too, I need to —” I try to sit up, but the world tilts violently, and black spots dance in my vision.

“Whoa, easy there,” Vivian says, pushing me back down. Her hands are cool against my feverish skin. “You’ve got a nasty concussion. Let the doctors take care of you first.”

“But…”

“I won’t hear it. You’ll get the best of the best.”

I want to argue that I’m not worried about the money, I’m worried about Kalvin, but my body betrays me.

Lights out, Skylar.

The next few hours pass in a haze of medical jargon and prodding hands. Doctors and nurses flit in and out of my vision, their faces blurring together. They shine lights in my eyes, ask me inane questions, and poke at my various injuries. I get fluids and Athens Industries nanites. My throat softens and I can finally swallow again.

But all I can think about is Kalvin. Is he okay? Did he make it? The uncertainty gnaws at me, worse than any physical pain.

Finally, I’m settled in a room, the harsh hospital lights dimmed. The walls are a bland, inoffensive beige, and the air is thick with the smell of disinfectant. A steady beeping from a nearby monitor provides an annoying soundtrack to my misery. Vivian’s still by my side.

“Vivi,” I rasp, my mouth feeling like it’s still full of sand, “Kalvin…”

She raises an eyebrow, a knowing look crossing her face. “You really care about him, don’t you?”

Usually, my defenses are up enough that I show no emotion. But now… I feel my cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the concussion. “He… we’ve been through a lot,” I mumble, avoiding her gaze.

Vivian’s lips quirk into a smile. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Oh, shut up,” I grumble, but there’s no real heat behind it. I’m too tired, too sore, and too worried to put up much of a fight.

She laughs softly, the sound oddly comforting in the sterile hospital room. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your boy. You just focus on getting better, okay?”

I nod, immediately regretting the movement as pain lances through my skull. “Fuck,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

“Real smooth, Skylar,” Vivian teases, but I can see the concern in her eyes. “Let the nanites work. The doctor said your concussion should be gone in a week, maybe less. But the combination of dehydration and your other injuries will mean they’ll need to work longer. You’re going to be forced to take some time off. Think you can handle it?”

She raises an eyebrow at me. We’re both workaholics.

Before I can come up with a suitably snarky reply, Mat appears in the doorway. He’s a tall, imposing figure, but his eyes are kind as he signs a quick greeting. I barely manage to catch it with my fuzzy vision.

“Hey, Mat,” I say. He’s mute, but not deaf. A consequence of the fever he had as a child. Still, I like to sign, even if I’m not terrible at it. I fumble through the few signs I know, my hands clumsy and uncooperative. ‘How are you?’

He smiles, clearly appreciating the effort. He signs back, but it’s too fast for me to follow, his hands moving in a blur.

“He says he’s glad you’re awake,” Vivian translates, her voice soft.

I nod — carefully this time — then remember something important. “Mat, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need a favor. Damian, my flight teacher. Can you… look into him?” I trail off, knowing this is dangerous territory. If he runs across Cressida, he’s going to be angry, considering how Cressida treated Vivian in the past.

Mat’s eyes narrow in understanding, a determined look crossing his face. He nods, signing something to Vivian.

“He says he’ll look into it,” Vivian tells me. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Yes. And you’ll have to wait until I get more information.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes at me, a familiar gesture, but we are cousins after all.

“Fine. Now get some rest, you troublemaker.”

I want to protest, but my eyelids are already growing heavy, the exhaustion of the past few days finally catching up with me. The last thing I see before drifting off is Mat’s reassuring smile.

—-

The next few days pass in a blur of tests, medications, and fitful sleep. Every time I wake up, disoriented and groggy, I ask about Kalvin. Vivian assures me he’s fine, recovering in another room, but it’s not enough. I need to see him, need to make sure with my own eyes that he’s okay.

On what, I think, is the fifth day — time has become a slippery concept — Mat returns. He’s got that look in his eye that says he’s found something. The determined set of his jaw makes my heart race with anticipation.

‘Damian,’ he signs, slower this time, so I can follow. ‘Money problems. New treatments. Very expensive.’

“Shit,” I mutter, the pieces falling into place. “I knew it. That bastard sold us out.”

Mat nods grimly, then continues signing. Vivian translates the parts I miss, her voice low and serious. Apparently, Damian’s been making some suspicious transfers lately. Nothing concrete, but enough to raise eyebrows.

“Thanks, Mat,” I say, remembering to sign it as well. He gives me a thumbs up before leaving, his footsteps silent on the hospital floor.

I spend the rest of the day stewing over this information, my mind racing despite the fog of medication. Damian, that two-faced son of a bitch. When I get out of here, I’m going to make him regret ever crossing Skylar Kawabata.

The doctor visits later, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. She drones on about recovery times and cognitive tests, her voice a monotonous buzz in my ears. I tune most of it out, focusing instead on one question: “When can I see Kalvin?”

The doctor exchanges a look with Vivian, something unspoken passing between them. “Well, if you’re feeling up to it, tomorrow before he’s discharged.”

Tomorrow. I can do tomorrow.

Except tomorrow feels like it takes a fucking eternity to arrive. By the time I hear a knock on my door, I’m about ready to climb the walls, my nerves frayed and my patience non-existent.

“Come in,” I call out, my heart racing with anticipation.

And there he is. Kalvin. Looking a bit worse for wear, with dark circles under his eyes and a few visible scrapes, but alive. So wonderfully, beautifully alive.

“Hey, princess,” he says, his voice soft and warm. “Miss me?”

I want to say something snarky, something cool and detached. Instead, what comes out is, “Get over here, you idiot.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. In moments, he’s by my bedside, his hand finding mine. His skin is warm, calloused, familiar. “You look like shit,” he says, but his eyes are bright with relief.

“Yeah, well, you’re no oil painting yourself,” I retort, but I can feel myself grinning like an idiot.

We talk for a while, and Kalvin fills me in on his recovery. Vivian and Mat paid for everything, including a work-up of his heart and repairing damage to his vision. The sentient sand, the life-threatening dehydration, the desperate trek across the dunes — it all seems impossibly distant in the sterile safety of the hospital room.

But the way Kalvin’s thumb traces circles on the back of my hand — that feels very, very real.

“I was worried about you,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “When they took you away…”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence, neither of us quite sure what to say next. Then Kalvin clears his throat. “So, uh, budge over, will you?”

“What?”

He gestures to the bed, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Unless you want me to stand here all day.”

I roll my eyes but scoot over, making room. Kalvin carefully climbs in beside me, mindful of the various tubes and wires attached to me. It’s a tight fit, the narrow hospital bed clearly not designed for two, but somehow, it works. His body is warm against mine, solid and reassuring.

“This is probably against hospital regulations,” I mutter, even as I settle more comfortably against him.

“Probably,” Kalvin agrees, sounding not at all concerned. “You going to report me?”

I snort. “As if. I’ve got bigger fish to fry. Like Damian, that backstabbing asshole.”

Kalvin tenses beside me, his body going rigid. “You found something?”

I fill him in on what Mat discovered, watching his face darken with each new detail. Kalvin listens intently, his jaw clenching in anger.

“We’ll make him pay,” he says when I’m done, his voice low and fierce. “Him and Cressida both.”

“Damn straight,” I agree, feeling a surge of vindictive pleasure at the thought. Then, softer, “But first, we need to get out of this fucking hospital.”

Kalvin chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest. “Soon. I’m already out. Vivian says we’ll be heading to Mat’s winery in a few days.”

I nod, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. The constant beeping of the monitors, the lingering pain in my head, and the emotional roller coaster of the past few days are finally taking their toll. “Good. I could use a drink. Or ten.”

“Pretty sure that’s not recommended with a concussion,” Kalvin teases, his fingers running gently through my hair.

“Shut up,” I mumble, my eyes already drifting closed. “I’ll be fine.”

I feel Kalvin press a gentle kiss to my forehead, his lips soft against my skin. “I know you will be,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re Skylar Kawabata, after all.”

As I drift off to sleep, I can’t help but smile. He’s right. I am Skylar Kawabata. And concussion or not, I’ve got a score to settle.

But first, I’m going to enjoy this moment. Here, in this too-small hospital bed, with Kalvin’s steady heartbeat under my ear and the antiseptic smell of the hospital fading into the background. For once in my life, I feel… safe. Protected.

Loved, even.

Fuck. It’s true. I am a total sap.

Oh, well. I’ll blame it on the concussion. For now, I’m just going to sleep, letting the rhythmic beeping of the monitors and Kalvin’s steady breathing lull me into unconsciousness. Tomorrow, we can start planning our revenge.

And maybe, just maybe, figure out what the hell is going on between Kalvin and me.