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That would be a no. But the minute I said that, they’d downgrade her care, and that shit wasn’t happening. “Just send all the bills to me,” I said. “I’ve got them covered. I’ll put all my information on the form.”
“So she doesn’t—”
“She doesn’t need insurance because she has me,” I said. “Understand?”
“I’ll have the nurse get the documents for you—”
I cut him off again. “Can you just tell me how she is?” Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out a money clip. “Here’s my ID. Here’s my credit card. It has a large credit limit and no balance. You can have whatever you want. Just tell me how she is.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m sorry. You must be worried.”
I laughed. He had no idea.
He glanced at the chart again. “Ms. Park is currently in stable condition, but she is still unconscious.”
I sucked in a breath. “Still? What’s wrong with her?”
“She has a head injury. A fairly severe one. We were able to close the headwound with twelve sutures, but there is some swelling.”
“She has brain swelling?” Max echoed from off to the side. The bleakness in his tone actually raised the hair on the back of my neck.
The doctor glanced at the group listening and frowned.
I snapped my fingers at him. “Don’t worry about them. Talk to me.”
“There is some swelling on her brain, but it’s all in relation to the head wound. I think it will go down quickly.”
“I want to see her.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible right now. She’s being prepped for surgery.”
I took those words like a fist to the gut, recoiling from the panic they caused. Pressing the back of my hand to my mouth, I sucked in a deep breath. “I thought you just said the swelling on her brain wasn’t severe.”
“The surgery is for her ankle. It’s broken. The bone is misplaced and needs to be realigned before it starts healing improperly and needs to be broken again to reset.”
“I knew that ankle looked gnarly,” Rush murmured.
“Is doing surgery like that okay with her head injury?” I worried, pacing a bit in front of the doctor.
“There is no current contraindication for the use of anesthesia for patients with a concussion.”
I stopped midstride. “Don’t give me all that doctor mumbo-jumbo. Is it safe?”
“Yes.”
“I want to see her first.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
I lunged, grabbing him by the coat and dragging him forward. I knew the second he really looked at me because a bolt of unease went through his stare as he took in mine. For most of my life, I hated my mismatched eyes. They made me different. Strange. I was mocked and ridiculed for them. Fish eyes. Crazy eyes. Jekyll and Hyde.
It wasn’t always easy having the same last name as an iconic slasher film villain (no one cares the spelling is different, okay?) and a face that looked like I’d been given spare parts from someone else.
But I adapted and now often forgot about my heterochromia until I watched someone notice it for the first time. You’d think a doctor would recognize it for what it was: a genetic mutation. Not this guy.
He seemed more inclined to think I was pieced together like Frankenstein’s monster. ‘Course, maybe it wasn’t my one green and one brown eye freaking him out but the fact I was currently holding him hostage and breathing in his face like a dragon.
Whatever it was, I would use it.
