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Mom finishes pulling up the sheet and then gives my shoulder a gentle pat. “You hush it. My baby is hurting, and I’m gonna do whatever I want.”
“I promise, I’m fine, Mom.” I grab her hand so she really will stop fussing. I don’t mind because I know it’s making her feel better, but she hasn’t sat down in, like, fifteen minutes. Adam went back to my house to find the right pair of glasses for me. They still aren’t comfortable on my face, but I can at least see everyone again.
“Maybe I’m not fine,” she whispers.
I soften. “Then fuss away.”
She blows out a deep breath and moves to refill my water cup for the fourth time. As soon as I take a sip, she puts more in.
“Do you need a snack or anything?” Sara asks. She’s not as bad as Mom, but she can’t seem to stop trying to take care of everyone.
“I would kill for a cup of coffee,” I groan.
“If you drink coffee, you won’t sleep, and you need more rest,” Mom lectures. She might only be slightly correct. But it feels like all I do is sleep.
I slept most of the day yesterday after my conversation with Sam and Adam. Today has been a little better. I’ve stayed awake for longer stretches of time and have been able to reassure my family I’m going to be okay. They haven’t given me details about the assault. Mostly because they don’t know them. I’m the only one who could say what happened, and it’s still a big blank space in my memory.
No one will let me watch the security footage from my house. They’re worried it’ll be too much while I’m still recovering, but I disagree. I’m hoping when the police come to question me, they’ll let me watch it.
“Honey, you should rest until the officers come. And Cooper said he’s gonna stop by sometime, too.” Mom finally sits in the chair next to my bed.
“I’m not all that tired right now. I’m not sure I could rest.” What I really mean is there’s no way I’d fall asleep with everyone in the room with me. Even when they’re trying to be quiet, they’re loud.
Adam stands up. “How about we all go get some lunch and let you try to nap? Mom’s right, you’ll be too exhausted to talk with the officers if you don’t rest now.”
I catch my brother’s gaze and mouth, “Thank you.” He nods his head and shuffles everyone out.
Sam stays by my side and asks them to bring him a sandwich or something. “Is it okay if I stay? I’m not quite ready to leave you alone just yet.”
“Totally okay. I’m not quite ready to be alone yet either. I wish you could cuddle me. That’s really what I want right now.”
“Can you imagine us both trying to squeeze into that tiny bed?” Sam grins. The dark circles under his eyes worry me that he’s not sleeping enough.
Would he fit if I scooted over and he laid on his side? Probably, but then how comfortable would either of us be? The doctors said I’d only need to be here for another day or two. They want to be confident I won’t have any complications from the surgery before they let me leave.
“Go to sleep, baby. Get some rest, and then maybe we can get out of here sooner,” Sam says.
I tilt my head against his where it’s pressed against my shoulder. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep, and what feels like minutes later, I’m being woken up again.
“It’s time to wake up. The police are ready for you.” Sam’s soft words pull me out of a deep sleep. I want to whine about waking up. I want to tell them to go away. But more than anything, I want to go home where I can have my man by my side and we can shut out the world.
A groan rumbles in my chest. “Don’t wanna.”
Sam laughs and presses a gentle kiss to my lips. It’s enough to make me open my eyes. He hands me my glasses that he must’ve taken off for me when I fell asleep.
“I need one more of those for strength.” I pucker my lips for another kiss.
Sam obliges me, giving me several kisses in a row.
“It’s a miracle! I’m healed,” I tease.
He winks at me and then stands to let the detectives in. They’re both in slacks and button-downs and give off the biggest cop vibes of anyone I’ve met.
“Hi, Mr. Ellis. My name is Neal Grant, and this is my partner, Warner Nightingale. Please feel free to use our first names. We’re not the formal type.”
“Call me Carter, and damn, that’s quite the name,” I joke.
Warner laughs. “Tell me about it.”
