Beyond Black & White Series Book 1: Bishop

I’ve never been aware of my own heartbeat until I could no longer hear it. The sound of life beating through your veins—when it’s gone, that’s when you miss it.

The noise. It’s the noise you never realized you’d adjusted to. The sound of the television you weren’t paying attention to while cooking dinner, or the humming of the air conditioner running in the background.

The wind whipping outside just before a thunderstorm, and the noise the bees make in the spring as they get ready to pollinate everything.

I miss those noises like I miss my own laughter. That’s what I took most for granted—being able to laugh anytime I wanted, and never just doing it.

Looking up, I see the man in a long white coat and a white button-up shirt. His pants are a dark blue, hugging his thighs nicely.

The tie, though, is maroon today and stands out against the color of his tan skin. He’s writing on a small whiteboard and turns it around in his hand.

I carefully hold up seven fingers. It’s a lie. It’s more like ten.

He raises his eyebrow in question and erases the board. His jacket says Dr. B. McKenna.

I have yet to see him smile or even smirk. He’s young, though—probably not much older than me, with dark-brown hair and blue eyes the color of the clearest sky in the springtime.

I noticed a small scar across his eyebrow last week. I wonder if he got that when he was a child. Maybe he fell off his bike or was playing sports.

Overall, with that chiseled face and built physique, he’s pretty handsome if you’re looking.

I’m not.

Though by the look the nurse usually gives him, she definitely is, and without a wedding ring, I’d say he’s fair game.

I see him nod to the nurse. She’s more than happy to grab the board while he walks over toward me. I immediately go stiff, and pain shoots through me.

He notices and stops moving. I see his eyebrows dip and his lips move.

I look over at the nurse, who is writing on the whiteboard, then turns it.

I pause, then look at that pretty face with those blue eyes that are asking me to trust him, and I hesitantly nod.

I wait for the panic to set in when he leans over with his stethoscope and listens. He’s much too close.

So close I can smell his cologne. It surrounds me like a blanket, and I focus on that small scar on his eyebrow.

I can tell his jaw is clenched tight. It makes that blood vessel on the side of his head bulge. I focus on that small blood vessel as my breathing becomes faster.

I may not be able to hear it, but I can certainly feel my heart beating out of my chest.

He knows this. He knows his presence is affecting me because those blue eyes keep snapping to mine every time he makes a move.

His cologne is a mixture of something earthy yet smoky. It works for him, and the smell is the only thing keeping me calm at the moment.

His lips move, and I look at the board.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. His smell is still surrounding me, still anchoring me—barely.

I feel my gown being lifted from the side, then slightly cold, deft fingers carefully prod. I jump at a particularly sore spot, which causes an avalanche of pain throughout my body, and I bite my lip until I taste blood.

I must have made a noise. When I open my eyes, I see the nurse is getting my pain meds ready to put in my IV. I can’t help but feel the pity that comes from her eyes before she injects it.

Dr. McKenna taps on my hand and turns the board around.

He erases and keeps going.

He erases again, and I watch as he scribbles.

He erases one last time, and I watch his hand, with those confident fingers, write. This time there’s an emotion that crosses those blues and disappears quickly—too quickly for me to decipher.

He leaves that one on the table without erasing it and nods before walking out the door.

I try not to close my eyes. I try not to sleep, because when I do, all I see is blood.

All I hear are the screams I can no longer physically hear. What I do see is his face—his beautiful face twisted in hatred and anger.

The biggest mistake of my life was trusting a beautiful man.

For the first time in weeks, I don’t dream, and I feel myself waking to my foot being gently stroked. I know it’s Dr. McKenna. This is his way of waking me without freaking me out.

Looking up, I see he has a blue shirt under his white coat. It almost matches his eyes perfectly.

This time, it’s paired with a charcoal tie. It’s then I notice I have slept through the night. I also notice the man standing beside Dr. McKenna.

I freeze, and he immediately starts to write.

It’s one thing to let Dr. McKenna get near me. I didn’t have a choice. For much of the time he was treating me, I was in a coma.

Now, I’m just barely dealing with him while awake. He knows this.

Before I can even shake my head no, he turns the board around again.

He then grabs the board and slowly walks around the bed, watching me the whole time like I’m a feral cat.

If the situation weren’t so dire, I would laugh, but then I remember… I wouldn’t hear it.

He carefully sits on the edge of the bed, leans over, and pushes the button that sits me up. He watches, making sure I’m in no pain while he adjusts my position.

I watch his face, those eyes, and know by instinct alone they see much more than he says. He looks over and nods at the man patiently standing at the end of the bed.

Dr. Fox smiles and slowly walks around while rolling a machine. His name suits him. He’s tall and lanky, with red hair and a red beard shaved close to his face.

His nose is slender and pointed, with lips that are a little on the thin side. But it doesn’t take away from his smile. It’s warm and goes all the way to his eyes.

Yet it still doesn’t take the anxiety away from me. The fear that nothing but pain will come from his hands.

He holds up a couple of wires attached to the machine. On the ends are plugs that go into my ears. I start to shake.

It’s not something I do consciously, and I feel Dr. McKenna nudge my leg. He holds up the whiteboard.

I see he says something to Dr. Fox. They speak back and forth before he slowly leans over and puts one in one ear and one in the other.

By now, my breathing is fast, and I can feel my heart beating. Nausea is close behind.

I close my eyes and breathe in the scent of something earthy and smoky. It somewhat calms me.

When I finally open my eyes, I look at Dr. McKenna and find that he’s looking down. Following his line of sight, I see what he’s staring at. It’s our hands.

Somewhere within the panic, I must have grabbed hold of his hand. I go to pull back, but he must have realized this and tightens his hold, threading our fingers together.

He puts his other hand on top and runs it back and forth. His blue eyes watch me as Dr. Fox removes the earplugs, and I see them speaking.

I feel his hand tighten within mine. Dr. Fox then moves and inserts two small devices, one in each ear.

He nods at Dr. McKenna, and then several things happen consecutively. Dr. McKenna finally smiles, and it changes his whole demeanor.

I also hear those blue eyes speak. “Everything is going to be okay, Kallie,” he says, his voice gentle.

Then, I finally cry for the first time since my husband tried to kill me.