Jessa Bolt


Ever since I was a little girl, I've always had a hard time sleeping in hospitals.

I stared into the darkness out the window and sighed. For the past few hours, I've been trying to tune out the beeping of the machines, but it's been to no avail. It feels like I've been awake forever, but the truth is that I'm afraid to fall asleep with the concussion I have. Even if I managed to sleep in this uncomfortable bed, I have nurses coming in and out every four hours to check my vital signs. It sucks, but the briefcase holding my title at my bedside softens the blow considerably. I'm the Divas Champion. The first.

The group left about three hours ago. Brock went with them. He didn't want to stay behind with me. He says it's because he hates hospitals, but he barely said half a dozen words to me the whole time he was here. He's unhappy. I can see it because I'm unhappy, too. I don't know if he likes me anymore. Not knowing where I stand with him is a maddening feeling. I hate how complicated my life has become. After spending years as a single, independent woman, I'm finally understanding why I chose to stay single for as long as I did. The waters are too choppy for me to handle. If Callie left me with any brain cells, I'd be telling Natalie to run for her life. Sabella is beyond saving.

There was a soft knock on the door-frame. Visiting hours are long over. I turned my gaze to the door, expecting to see a nurse, but not surprised to see a tall man whose face was covered big a big vase of flowers. He was dressed in a white button-down shirt and grey slacks. I sighed; just what I needed.

"Hello, Randy."

He lowered the vase, revealing a grinning face. I watched him walk into the room quietly and put the flowers down on the bedside table. "How are you feeling, beautiful?" he asked me, sitting down beside the bed.

"I could be better, but I could be worse, so I guess I can't complain." Most women would welcome the image of Randy Orton at their bedside, paying them with his undivided attention, but I'm not most women. "You have a lot of guts, you know that? If Brock finds you here, he's going to break the rest of your ribs."

"It's worth it," he told me with a smile. "Besides, we both know he didn't stick around here." I clamped my mouth shut. He picked up the briefcase and snapped it open, a look of approval on his face when he saw the championship belt inside. "Congratulations, Jess. You deserve it."

"Thank you." He closed the briefcase, put it down beside him and leaned back in the chair.

"I wish things were different between us, Jessa. Less...frosty. I wish you trusted me. I wish you could love me the way I love you," he sighed. I snorted, then winced at the pain it caused in both my ribs and my head.

"You don't love me, Randy. I'm forbidden fruit at best."

"I don't blame your mistrust. Look at who you're dating."

"Randy..."

He leaned forward and took my hand, the one with the IV coming out of it. "Jessa, take it from me: you have every reason to be distrustful of Brock Lesnar. If you never believe anything else I ever say to you, believe this." I looked into his eyes, stunned to see the flash of genuine emotion in there. I stared at him with brand new, curious eyes. He sighed. "I wish I had all the details for you, Jess, but I do know there's something going on with him and Kurt. What they have planned is going to affect you directly. Kurt is pissed about it, Brock is indifferent. They've been arguing. I've heard it. I can hear it muffled through their locker room doors. If I knew what was going on, Jess, I'd tell you. But I don't, so I'm warning you to be careful."

My head throbbed. "Call it the concussion, but I think I might believe you," I told him. He smirked.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm too sore and too tired to talk about work," I told him. We both managed an awkward laugh. I looked at the flowers, a beautiful mixture of red, white and pink roses. I bit the inside of my cheek and swallowed my irritation. "Thank you for the flowers. I should be kicking your ass for bringing them, since I have to explain these to Brock now. But thank you. White roses are my favorite."

"I'll have to remember that," he told me, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair out of my face. "When do they plan on cutting you loose?"

"Tomorrow morning, thank God. It's just observational."

"When do you think you'll be coming back?"

"I don't know. Shane says I at least have next week off. Just to be safe. Nat called Kari. She's going to come stay with me for the week while I recover."

"Kari?"

"She's my sister."

"Was that the blonde that was at your place?" he asked me. I nodded. "Is she older or younger?"

"Younger. I'm the ancient one. At least that's what she tells me on my birthday cards." He laughed. "What about you, Mr. Orton? Do you have any siblings that used to drive you nuts?"

"Used to? They still drive me crazy," he said with a laugh. "I'm the oldest, like you. I have a brother and a sister, too. But they don't remind me I'm old in my birthday cards. That's just cold."

"Are you close with them?" I was surprised at myself for having such a normal conversation with him. I blame it on the injury, not being in the right frame of mind.

"Absolutely. I see them all the time. It helps that I live in the area, though. Not like you - you're in a totally different country, in a different time zone, on a different coast. How often do you see them?"

"Not as often as I'd like, but it's not from lack of trying."

"I'm sorry to hear that." I shrugged; it is what it is. "It should be nice having your sister around, though, hey?"

"Yeah. We aren't that close, but we are trying to fix it." Randy nodded approvingly and then stood.

"I hate to cut our conversation short, since it seems like you've put your claws in, but I have to go. The nurse told me not to take too long. She bent the rules for me. I can't wait to see you back, Jess. Get better. Enjoy that belt because you earned it." He leaned down and kissed the top of my forehead, my nose and then he captured my mouth with his. I tried to pull away, but he kept the kiss short. I imagine he would have seen how far he could have pushed it if I weren't laid up in the hospital bed with IVs running out of my arms. "Sweet dreams, Jess."

"You, too, Randy." I fought the urge to smile. God help me, he is growing on me like a fungus. And I hate it.

I rested my head against the pillow after he disappeared. I could still feel his lips on mine, forceful yet soft. I wish I could read him. I've been suspicious about Brock and Kurt for a while, so believing Randy about them isn't a big stretch. The two of them have worked hard to keep me in the dark about the deal they've struck with one another. Sometimes it's hard not feeling like a pawn, like a birdie getting hit back and forth between two sides.

Since coming back, Brock has been shrouded in mystique. I know to some, it makes men more attractive, but at this point it's wearing on my last nerve. Too many secrets doesn't make for a good relationship. I shouldn't be able to believe anything Randy Orton tells me, but Brock hasn't helped his cause. His secrets and his jealousy aren't doing anything to steady the waters in my complicated existence. I wish he could see that.

The nurse came in to check my vitals. She was a stout woman with red curls. She reminded me of my granny Sally. Her eyebrows were penciled in. "Such lovely flowers," she squealed as she descended on me with her blood pressure tester and my clipboard. I nodded mutely as she checked my blood pressure and examined my eyes. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'd be a lot better if I didn't have a light shining in my eyes," I answered dryly.

"Fair enough," she laughed, turning off the light. She gave me some more aspirin for the pain, with a cup of water, before disappearing, promising she would be back in a few hours.