I take the cup, inhaling the rich aroma like it's oxygen. “My cardiovascular health is the least of my worries right now.” The first sip is heaven—hot, strong, and sweet enough to combat the bitter aftertaste of hospital meds.
“I did laundry at the motel. I hope you don’t mind that I did yours.” Jonah nods toward my duffel bag visible through the back window. “And I got your prescriptions filled at the pharmacy across the street.”
“If you wanted to sneak a peek at my underwear, you could have just asked, Jonah.”
Color floods his face as he stumbles over a response. “I…that’s not what I…there was a laundry service and I just thought?—”
“Relax, Professor.” I take another sip of my coffee. “I’m teasing you. Though your face is currently matching the color of my favorite flannel shirt.” I lift a brow.
The orderly clears his throat. “Sir, I need you to sign these discharge papers to release her into your care.”
He hands over a clipboard. Jonah glances at me. I nod, giving him the go-ahead.
When he returns it, the orderly looks like he wants to add something—probably a lecture about taking it easy—but one look at me changes his mind.
“You’re free to go,” he settles on, stepping back from the wheelchair.
I stand slowly, testing my balance. The world tilts for a second, but I stay upright. Max circles me anxiously, ready to catch me if I fall.
“I’ve got her,” Jonah adds, moving to my side, his hand steadying my elbow. His grip is light but sure, and I hate how much I appreciate it.
“I can walk,” I insist, but I don't pull away from him. The parking lot seems to stretch for miles between me and my truck. “It's not that far,” I mutter, but my legs already feel wobbly, and I've only taken three steps. The painkillers are making everything soft around the edges, like I'm moving through cotton candy.
Jonah's grip on my elbow tightens . His touch is grounding, warm and safe. I stumble , and his hand slides to my waist, steadying me. “Let's take it slow.”
Hospitals have a way of making loneliness louder. The antiseptic smell. The constant machine noises. The endless hours staring at ceiling tiles while pain medication drags time into something shapeless and miserable. I hadn’t realized how much I’d gotten used to Jonah’s presence until he wasn’t there. Or Max snoring somewhere nearby.
I had missed them both.
Max stays close to my left side, as if he's appointed himself my personal therapy dog. It's sweet, really, how attached he's gotten to both of us in such a short time. Almost like he's decided we're his new pack.
We make our way across the parking lot at what feels like a glacial pace. Each step sends a dull throb through my shoulder, but I clench my teeth and keep moving. I refuse to be wheeled back inside.
“I went back and found your camera this morning. It’s drying out on the back seat. I also checked the radar,” Jonah adds, keeping things casual, like he’s trying to pull my focus away from the pain. “The system we were tracking yesterday has intensified. Three confirmed tornadoes touched down near the Texas-Louisiana border.”
“And you're telling me this because...?”
“Because I know you'll ask the moment we get in the truck,” he replies with surprising insight. “And because I've already plotted our route to the southern edge of the storm.”
I stop walking and look up at him, narrowing my gaze. “You’ve what now?”
“You heard me.” He holds my gaze without flinching. “Unless you’d rather recover in a motel room watching delayed storm coverage?”
I stare at him, trying to process what I'm hearing.
“Who are you and what have you done with my nerdy professor?” I ask, only half-joking.
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I believe the correct term is 'nerdy hot professor,' according to your medication-induced ramblings last night.”
I feign ignorance. “I said no such thing.”
“You compared me to Clark Kent,” he reminds me, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “To a nurse.”
“That was clearly the concussion talking,” I mutter as we resume our slow walk toward the truck. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
I glance up at him and immediately regret it. Because Jonah is smiling. Oh, it absolutely went to his head. All of it.
He looks absurdly pleased with himself right now, like he’s floating three feet off the ground while he holds me against his side.
