Tara Sivec: Shame on Him

Shame on him for being sad when I just told him I love him.

Wake up, sleepyhead.”

The voice breaks into my dream and I groan in frustration. I was having the most amazing dream. I solved the murder case and Dallas told me he loved me.

“Don’t wake her up. She’s going to be pissed when she finds out the hospital threw away her Jimmy Choo boots because they had blood on them.”

I groan again and try to roll over to go back to the dream but I can’t move. There’s something on my face that’s tickling my nose, and my arms feel like they’re tangled with rope.

“I’m pretty sure the hospital has already borne enough of your wrath for that oversight. I can’t believe you told that orderly he was a waste of space that wouldn’t know good shoes if they were shoved up his ass.”

I want to laugh at the absurdity of the conversation happening around me, but I feel like it would hurt to laugh, for some reason.

“He said those boots were ugly and the blood enhanced them. He’s lucky I didn’t shove my own foot up his ass. Jimmy Choos are never ugly.”

Figuring I may as well get it over with, I slowly blink open my eyes and wince at the bright light. Turning my head to the side, I see Kennedy and Paige sitting on chairs next to my bed. What are they doing in my room? And why is my room so bright?

“Where am I?”

The raspy groan of my own voice shocks me and I cough to try and clear it.

Paige immediately jumps up from her chair and rushes to the side of my bed. “I knew shoe talk would perk you right up. How do you feel?”

I swallow and clear my throat, pressing my palms down on the bed to push myself up. I yelp in pain as soon as I put weight on my left arm.

Kennedy gets up and hurries to my side, gently putting her hands on my chest and pushing me back down to the bed. “Nope, no getting up for you. Doctor’s orders. Are you in pain?”

Closing my eyes and trying to get comfortable, I take stock of my body. Every muscle is achy and my left shoulder feels like it was run through a meat grinder.

“My shoulder. What’s wrong with my shoulder?”

I look down and see a thick bandage wrapped around my shoulder and chest. Upon further inspection, I see an IV sticking out of my arm.

“Dude, you were shot. Do you remember anything from yesterday?” Kennedy asks, grabbing a cup of water with a straw in it and holding it to my lips.

Shot? She must be kidding.

I take a few long pulls on the straw and the cold water instantly soothes my scratchy throat.

Glancing around the room, I realize Dallas isn’t here. I remember hearing him and Ted talking about me at the police station. I remember my heart breaking into a million pieces.

“I remember watching two women kiss,” I mumble, letting my head flop back to the pillow.

“Kinky,” Kennedy replies with a laugh. “I’m guessing that would be Stephanie Covington and Melinda Banks, unless you’ve been watching some girl-on-girl porn lately.”

Paige smacks her in the arm. “Do you remember going to Stephanie’s house to confront her about killing Richard?”

Racking my brain, I try to make the memory surface. I have a vague recollection of standing in Stephanie’s living room, arguing with Dallas. And a gun pointed in his direction.

Like someone is flipping quickly through the pages of a book, everything rushes back in flashes of scenes.

“Did I really shove Dallas out of the way from being shot?” I ask.

“You did. You totally saved my ass.”

Glancing over to the door, I see Dallas standing there with two cups of coffee in his hands, looking haggard and exhausted.

Kennedy and Paige walk up to him and grab the cups from his hands.

“We’ll just leave you two alone. I’ll go get the nurse and tell her it’s time for some pain meds,” Paige tells me before she and Kennedy leave the room.

Dallas slides his hands in his pockets and gives me a look. I think I told him I loved him after I’d been shot. Did it freak him out? I can’t believe I said that. I have a faint memory of him telling me the same thing, but I don’t know if it’s my mind playing tricks on me or not.

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly, moving closer to the bed.

“Like I’ve been shot,” I reply.

He chuckles, grabbing one of the empty chairs and sliding it closer to my bed before sitting down. I watch as he rests his elbows on the edge of the bed and folds his hands. I want him to touch me. Even though I’m confused about what all happened the day before, I feel cold in this bright room. He’s so close to me, but feels so far away.

“Do you remember what happened?” he asks after a few minutes of silence.

I shrug, but the motion hurts. I try to keep the pain off of my face but it’s no use. Dallas immediately reaches out and smoothes my hair off of my forehead. The feel of his warm hands against my skin makes the pain disappear.

“I remember bits and pieces. Paige and Kennedy told me a little bit,” I tell him, turning my face into his palm and sighing.

“You saw the ME’s report at the police station and immediately put two and two together from the particle traces on Richard’s clothing. I would have never caught that,” he admits. “Stephanie’s herbalist, Melinda, was afraid of Richard telling everyone about her and Stephanie’s relationship, so she killed him.”

“What about Richard and Miles having a relationship? Was any of that true?” I ask.

“Just rumors. Supposedly, Stephanie didn’t know anything about Melinda taking matters into her own hands, but that’s still under investigation.”

I nod and a heavy silence fills the room.

Dallas clears his throat and bites his lip with nervousness. “I know I said this yesterday, but I want to make sure this part is absolutely clear. I’m sorry about what you overheard at the police station. I swear to you, I didn’t mean a damn word of it. You’re better at this fucking job than I am. You have natural instincts that can’t be taught. The only reason I would even think about saying you can’t do this job on your own is because it kills me to think of something like this happening to you again,” Dallas admits. “When you slammed into me at Stephanie’s house and knocked me to the ground, all I could think about was how amazing you are.”

I remember watching Melinda aim the gun in Dallas’s direction and not even thinking about what I was going to do.

“I knew she was going to shoot you. All I could think about was getting you out of the way,” I tell him.

“Jesus, when you told me I was bleeding and I looked down and saw the bullet hole in your shoulder, I couldn’t breathe.”

He takes his hand off of my face and runs it through his hair. The short strands stand up in a mess and I realize he must have been doing that a lot recently.

“You kept closing your eyes and all I could do was sit there next to you, helpless, holding my hand to your shoulder. Promise me you’ll never throw yourself in front of another bullet again. I don’t know if my heart could take it.”

Speaking of his heart . . .

“Did you really tell me you love me, or did I imagine that?” I whisper.

He smiles, reaching over and grabbing the hand of my arm that isn’t bandaged and bringing it up to his mouth. He closes his eyes and kisses my hand.

He moves my palm to the side of his face and holds it in place before opening his eyes again and smiling at me. “You didn’t imagine it. I love you.”

I smile back at him and instinctively know he’s telling the truth. About everything—his conversation with Ted and how he feels about me.

“Did you really mean it when you told me you loved me back, or was it just because of the blood loss?”