Rogue and Euphemia Novel – When a shooting occurred, the first person my boyfriend went to protect was another woman. He hadn’t even thought to look for me, to check on me, to see if I was OK. “Euphemia!” “I’m sorry. Do you feel up to filling me in on everything? They wouldn’t give us much information. Dayton went with you in the ambulance, and she said your heart stopped.” “Belated affection is more despicable than grass. When you hugged another woman and walked away without looking b ack, did you ever think that I would die? I vowed to myself that I would make a plan to make this man pay for his actions.
When a shooting occurred, the first person my boyfriend went to protect was another woman. As he started to leave, she looked back at me, held close in my man’s arms. And she smiled right at me. They were out the door seconds later, and he hadn’t even thought to look for me, to check on me, to see if I was OK. Turns out, I wasn’t. “I’m glad to see those eyes,” a stranger said above me. Who are you? I was becoming aware a little at a time. Someone talking to me with a stethoscope around his neck. Nurse? Doctor? Beeping. Machines. A strange bed. Not mine. Tubes taped my hands. Why? And then little flickers of memories.
Bullets. Get down! “Calm down,” that nice voice said above me, his eyes glancing at the machine. “You’re OK, Euphemia.” That almost brought a smile to my face as I worked to calm myself. Only two people ever called me Euphemia and one was my grandmother. There’d been a battle over my name at my birth, and strangely it wasn’t between my parents but between my father and his mother. She insisted my parents name me after her grandmother who’d raised her, and my mother had thought it was an incredibly sweet gesture. Dad lost out and in retaliation, he’d never called me Euphemia, only Fee. My mother, probably feeling a little guilty she’d sided with her mother-in-law against her own husband, had also used the shortened version of my name. Rogue was the other person, and he called me Euphemia or Effie, and sometimes, lady. Rogue.
Something played at the edge of my memories. Something about Rogue. The shooting. Something about the shooting. Rogue throwing his body over Angelica. Angelica. Her smiling at me as he carried her out. And if I’d objected to that, I’d have looked extremely petty. So, instead, I practiced patience. But now, what had that patience gotten me? Shot. Surgery. Coma. No man protecting me. Remembering how Rogue had protected her, used his perfect body to cover Angelica, absolutely destroyed me. He hadn’t given me a thought. Never looked back for me. Never looked around for me. Just rushed her out of there to get her medical help.
“Hey, now,” the doctor said kindly. “No crying, young lady. You’re alive, you’re safe, and we’re taking good care of you.” I tried to speak again, but it was still raspy. The doctor held a cup for me, elevated my bed a bit and bent the straw so I could take a sip. “Is anyone here? For me?” His smile was gentle. “Yes. Nobody could prove a relation to you, so they’ve been relegated to the waiting room while you’ve been asleep for the last couple of days. There’s one man in particular who’s driving the nurses crazy and he’s about ready to storm the door. We’ve had to call security on him five different times.” Rogue. “I’m so tired,” I said, exhausted just after a few minutes. “You will be for a while,” he said. “What you went through was traumatic to your body.” “I want to go back to sleep,” I said on a sigh. A sob? “But I don’t want visitors yet.” He nodded in understanding.
“Then we won’t let anyone in. We’ll run some tests in the morning, but I suspect you’ll be with us for a couple more days. Do you have someone to stay with you while you recover? That’s going to be critical. You’re going to need some help for a while, until your arm heals.” No. I had a few girlfriends, but they were married and had multiple littles running around, keeping them busy. I wouldn’t let them take on caring for me. For the last six months, I’d lived with Rogue in the house he had on the MC grounds, so I didn’t have an apartment to escape to, where I could hire someone to help. But I couldn’t think anymore, couldn’t think about Rogue protecting Angelica and not even thinking about me.
Drifting off, I slept until the next morning, barely waking when the nurses came in during the night to check my vitals or exchange an IV bag. After they ran their tests and the physical therapist paid me a visit, after thinking at warp speed while I picked at an unappetizing breakfast, I decided not to put it off any longer. When the nurse came in, I asked if there was anyone in the waiting room. She smiled and rolled her eyes. “There are several someones, but there’s only one who’s become best friends with security.” “Could you ask him to come in, please?” Part one of my plan was about to begin. It was the practical part, the part where I had to heal and had to have help. So I would resign myself to the inevitable while I put the rest of my plans in place.
Rogue came flying in, eyes frantic, face gray and drawn. “Euphemia!” Now you’re concerned. His hands went out to me, trying to figure out where he could touch me that wasn’t covered with IV lines or leads, finally settling on my face, but I turned away before he could peck me. One of us didn’t know yet that things had changed. But he would. “It hurts to be touched by you,” I lied and told the truth all in the same sentence. ” I’m sorry. Do you feel up to filling me in on everything? They wouldn’t give us much information. Dayton went with you in the ambulance, and she said your heart stopped.” And it hasn’t really restarted yet. His eyes were tortured. Guilt will do that to a man, I guess. “You died, Euphemia, and…God, I just need to touch you.
Anywhere. Just to reassure myself.” Like you reassured yourself I was OK after the shooting? “Apparently, I died on the operating table, too,” I said softly, just to twist the knife, and watched his face contort with pain. At that, Rogue actually looked like he was in agony. “But I’m fine now,” I said, and if my tone was short, I could blame it on the pain. The pain excuse would cover a lot in the days to come. “I just need some time to recover after dying twice.” He made a choked sound that sounded like tears trying erupt. “Whatever you need, I’ll make sure you have it,” he vowed. That man sounded as if he meant it with every fiber of his being, but I knew better now. I need a boyfriend who’d choose to protect me. “When are they discharging you?” he asked.
“I just need to get you back home with me.” “Another day or two,” I said. “I’ll need to hire someone to help –” “I’ll be there to help. I’ll take care of you.” “I can’t count on you,” I slipped, then quickly recovered. “I mean, you have your job and club business and anything else that might need your attention.”Anything else being Angelica, of course, his primary concern. “No, Effie. I’ll be taking care of you.” Until Miss Needy calls you away. He placed his palm gently on my head for just a brief moment. “Effie, I’m so sorry you were caught in the crossfire. I was about to go crazy if I had to wait any longer to see you, to make sure you were going to be OK.” Well, If I’d known that, I would have waited until tomorrow to let you in my room.
“Anyway, I’ll hire someone to help me, as long as you’re OK with them coming onto the grounds and into your house.” “Euphemia, it’s your house, too. But no, I’m not OK with you hiring someone. I’ll be taking care of you. I took the next two weeks off, and I can take more time if I need to.” “But if you get called away –” “I won’t,” he said. Big promises. “What do you remember of the shooting?” he asked suddenly, and I knew why. So I lied. “Nothing after the bullets started flying. It’s all just a blank.” Was that relief on his face? Or guilt? Three nights later, I was back at Rogue’s house, in the guest room because I told him I was afraid he’d bump my arm in the night. Since he always pulled me to him, whether he was sleeping or awake, it was the perfect excuse. And in the meantime, while Rogue took care of me, I made my plans. My exit strategy. I vowed to myself that I would make this man pay for his actions.