“Don’t growl at me like that! I heard everything. Door was ajar, and I have issues with boundaries.”
She glares at me and then she turns to Adora, blinking sweetly at her, full-on deranged smile locked and loaded.
“Sorry, I suffer from something called pathological curiosity. I couldn’t help myself.” Her smile stretches innocently, like she’s a blonde cherub from the heavens. It pisses me off. “I really am sorry, I just got sucked into your story.”
Then she turns on me again. “Now, I believe the woman asked you to leave, Discount Casper.”
“I’m not leaving, Discount Barbie.” Her jaw drops at the name, offended. “I’m her husband. I have every right to be here. You don’t. Turn the fuck around before I make you.”
She stares at me, slack-jawed for a second — probably not used to anyone talking back. But she recovers quick, armsfolding over her chest like she’s about to crush me under her boot.
“Doesn’t matter who you are. Matters what the patient wants. It’s hospital law, Polterbitch.”
She turns back to Adora. “You want him gone, don’t you? Just press the button and call the hunky white coat. He’ll make your wish come true.”
“I already pressed it,” Adora murmurs, looking at Ria with awe.
Ten minutes later, after I’ve threatened to make the doctor eat his stethoscope and argued with three different nurses, I find myself slumped in the waiting room. In a fucking chair. Again.
I couldn’t take it too far. Not with her still lying in that hospital bed. Not with security already circling around me. So I let them usher me out. Temporarily.
I sit here, fuming, hollow, drowning in everything I can’t fix.
But I’m not done. She has nowhere to go, she’ll have to come with me when they discharge her.
Right?
17. Breathe
Adora
Now that the hospital staff managed to drag Ghost out, I finally turn my attention to the tiny woman still standing at the foot of my bed.
She’s been watching the whole circus unfold like it was the best telenovela she’s ever seen. There’s a glint in her eyes, gleeful and borderline unhinged, and a smile on her face that’s not pitying or uncomfortable. No… that smile looks deeply satisfied. Like she lives for crazy shit.
“Hi,” I rasp, my throat still raw. “I’m Adora. I think I owe you a thank you… for saving my life.”
Her smile stretches impossibly wider. Bright. Almost blinding.
“I’m Azaria,” she chirps, “but everyone just calls me Ria.” She jerks her thumb toward the door Ghost got dragged out of. “And no thanks are necessary. Trust me, you already paid me in full. That show? Chef’s kiss. Absolutely delicious. Watching a biker go into self-destruct mode? That’s my favorite thing ever.”
I blink at her.
What… Who is this woman?
She crosses her arms, and tilts her head like a curious cat. “How are you feeling? Any…,” her lips purse, eyes looking briefly at the wall behind me, “...lingering urges in that head of yours?”
God. She really doesn’t beat around the bush, does she?
“No.” My voice comes out small, tired. “No urges today.” I pause. “So you know the Vultures?”
She snorts, full of mockery. “Unfortunately. Been having a grand old time torturing their fearless leader. He hurt my best friend. Apparently, these guys can’t help themselves with women, huh?”
My smile falters. That hits too fucking close.
“Yeah,” I whisper, throat tight. “Seems like they’re experts at that.”
She startles, a quick jolt of movement, then hurries to my side like instinct kicked in before thought could catch up.
