Somehow, I don’t think that will fly with the nurse. I swallow the acrid taste in my mouth, collapsing onto the nearest seat.
Chapter 35
Pink Lemonade
Poppy
I wake with a headache in a hospital bed.
It takes effort to breathe. Effort to move my head around. I try my best to stretch, and piece by piece, the memory of how I got here comes back. The realization I accidentally ingested pineapple. Jack’s face, tight with worry, floating over mine as EMTs arrived. The panic of being separated from him when they bundled me into the ambulance. I sit up with effort, my heart sprinting, sweat breaking out underneath my arms. I don’t want to be alone here.
Jack is in a chair next to the bed. He looks like he woke up not too long ago; his hair is mussed, shirt wrinkled. When he meets my gaze, something crosses his face, an emotion I can’t categorize or even label. He takes me in silently, and I do the same. I’ve heard that tornadoes can turn the sky green. His eyes remind me of that right now: a viridescent sky, strange and foreboding.
“You stayed?” My voice comes out scratchy.
He simply leans forward to pour me a cup of water from a jug on the table next to the bed. Cradling the back of my head, he tips the cup into my mouth. My eyes flutter shut as I drink. His thumb rubs over my nape soothingly. I lean into his touch, arching like a cat, wanting more contact. It’s cold in this room, and he’sdeliciously warm. I could fall asleep again like this, surrounded by his scent.
“Sweetheart.” He brushes the hair away from my face. “How do you feel?”
Thinking up an answer seems monumentally difficult, given the way my temples are pounding. I rub my head against his palm.
One side of his mouth tilts up. “Tell me, Poppy.”
I whine as he slides away. I reach out my hand, desperate for more contact, for the mere brush of our fingers. He interlaces his with mine, and I breathe easier. “My head hurts. But I’m okay. Did I really... I mean...”
“You had an allergic reaction. Owen used pineapple juice in the taco marinade. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
“I should have mentioned something to him.”
With effort, I smile. “I think that’s my job.”
“All the same.”
We’re quiet. Out in the hallway, I hear murmurs, but no one comes into the room. Jack rubs his eyes. It occurs to me that it must be Saturday. Morning sun comes in weakly through the windows. He’s wearing the same clothes he wore on the drive down to Fort Lauderdale. He looks as rumpled as I feel.
He stayed all night; I’m sure of it. My stomach swoops. I don’t know what to do with that. It feels too big, too scary to even think about.
“Shouldn’t you be at the restaurant?”
“I’ll take you back when they discharge you.” He runs a hand over his beard, then pulls out his phone, swiping it open. He puts it to his ear as he stands. “They kept you for observation overnight, just in case. Let me find a nurse.”
The door shuts behind him. I stare at my wrist, the thin line of the IV snaking out from my vein. His scent lingers, ocean and pine and something else that’s uniquely him. I sniff the pillow. There’s the sterile hospital smell, but also him, like the pillows we’ve been sharing at the houseboat.
Another memory swims into my consciousness. Jack carefullycurled up around me in this very bed, his body like a protective shell. His breath tickled my ear. His arm held me close to his chest. A helpless giggle slips out of me. I haven’t been in many hospitals, but I’m pretty sure that’s not allowed.
And yet he did it anyway. He stayed by me, guarding me, so I wouldn’t be alone in a strange hospital for even a moment.
Another thing I don’t want to ponder too closely.
A nurse pokes her head into the room. She smiles at the sight of me. “Poppy, hello. So glad to see you awake. I’m Lola.”
“Hi. Jack said I was here overnight?”
“Yes.” She fiddles with the machine I’m hooked up to, adding data to a tablet before turning to me. Her scrubs are plum-colored, her locs held back from her face with a matching headband. “We got plenty of adrenaline and fluids into you, but decided to keep you for observation overnight just in case. We should be able to discharge you later today.”
“That’s good.”
