Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
There really wasn’t much to debate there. Unless you were drugged, hospitals weren’t all that restful.
“And we both know I will sleep much better in my own bed, and if I even twitch in my sleep, you’ll be up in a second. You’re a million times better than this monitor. I’ve never met anyone who sleeps lighter than you.”
Before I had kids, I slept like a rock. I used to be able to sleep through a hurricane, but once Kola was under our roof, that had changed instantly.
“Let’s agree on five days,” I suggested.
“Let’s agree on we’ll see if I feel like hot buttered shit tomorrow morning.”
“That’s disgusting,” I replied, feeling the weariness swamp me.
He snorted and poked my side. When I swayed, he shook his head.
“What?”
“You’re so wrung out you’re barely standing.”
“I—” What to say? “I was scared.”
“I know, baby,” he soothed me, and suddenly lifted my phone, which he’d apparently taken from my back pocket because I was that out of it, and I found myself looking at my son and daughter. “Hi, guys, I’m okay,” he informed them, smiling.
“Ohmygod, Dad!” Hannah shrieked. “What happened?”
Kola’s eyes filled as he stared at Sam, and his breath began to hitch like he was about to hyperventilate.
“No-no-no,” Sam told him. “Buddy, lookit me, I’m fine.”
I saw Dane take hold of Kola and draw him quickly into his arms, rubbing his back, asking him to breathe.
“You can hear me, you can see me, I’m okay. I promise I’m okay.”
“Say it again,” Dane demanded, not turning his head, still comforting our son.
“I’m okay, buddy,” Sam assured his son a third time.
“What…happened?” Hannah asked again even as her eyes welled with tears.
“Crap,” he grumbled.
“I’m just gonna sit right here,” I announced, collapsing into the recliner beside his bed.
The last thing I heard was Sam telling Hannah he really was fine before he began explaining, in excruciating detail, to his son who was going to be a doctor himself one day, what precisely had occurred with the path of the bullet.
I rolled to my side and jolted because there was only air.
“Careful,” a soft voice cautioned, and after I blinked, like, a million times, my eyes finally focused in the low light, and I saw a nurse injecting a syringe into Sam’s IV.
“What is that?” I asked quickly.
She smiled at me, I could tell from the way her eyes crinkled above her mask. “You’re scared, but there’s no need to be,” she declared, moving her long, thick auburn braid and adjusting her hoodie so I could see her badge, which showed her smiling a bit manically but adorably. Her name was Chelsea Collins, and she pointed to the wall where her name was on a whiteboard under the time from one to nine in the morning. “I’m his nurse until Delia Fernandez gets here and we switch out,” she informed me. “We both have red hair, so sometimes people get us confused, but I have freckles, and she doesn’t.”
I took a breath.
“And this is an antibiotic, because we don’t want him to get an infection. He’s doing really well, no fever, he’s been asleep for hours, and his vitals are all very good, strong and steady. I like this man. He’s easy to care for.”
I scoffed.
She snickered. “Hah. Kidding. I know he’s a pain in the ass, Dr. Chen told me, but I’m good with the ones who wanna tussle. I can wear ’em down.”
“That’s good.” I sighed deeply.
Her head tipped sideways as she regarded me. “It’s impressive, what he did. He saved the hostages, put Joel Osborne back where he belongs, behind bars, and lived to tell the tale.”
“How do you know Joel Osborne belongs behind bars? Did you follow the case?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” she informed me, her voice gentle as she came around the bed and opened a cabinet. “You see, it’s a very small world, Mr. Harcourt, and your husband kept the man in prison who killed, along with many others, my fiancé’s sweet little sister.”
I could only stare as she got out a pillow and blanket, closed the cabinet, and passed them both to me.
“So you see, when I was told who I was watching over tonight, I called the love of my life, and he told me, ‘You know what to do, Chels. You keep him safe and be his guardian angel,’ and I promise you, Mr. Harcourt”—she moved into a classic Karate stance—“even ninjas couldn’t get through me to your husband, and certainly not anything as tedious as an infection. He’s safe with me.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, ’cause I suspect you take care of your husband every day, and because of that, he was there when a piece of human excrement made a break for freedom.”
I nodded.
“Try and sleep. I’ll be back.”
I watched her walk to the door, where she turned and groaned. “You know, this wall of windows he’s got, it’s great at night with the stars and the view of the city, but in the morning…not so much. Even with the blinds, it’s terrible in here. It’s big, that’s true, which is probably why they put him in here…but still. Not the best choice in my opinion. I’ll bring him a sleep mask, and we’ll see if it helps.”