Page 147 of Sparks Fly

I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could get a word out, a nurse stepped into the room. She moved with the calm efficiency of someone who had done this a thousand times before, adjusting something on my IV line while asking me to rate my pain.

I lied.

“Six.”

It was closer to eight and a half.

Addison didn’t contradict me out loud, but I felt her hand tighten slightly around mine like she knew.

The nurse explained everything again while checking the monitors. Shoulder injury. Dislocation. A torn ligament and additional damage they repaired during surgery. Stitches near my eye from meeting the pavement a little too personally.

I nodded along, still only half following the details through the fog in my head.

“When can I go home?”

“Possibly later today. The doctor may keep you one more night depending on your pain.”

“What?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.

Before I could argue further, Addison answered.

“Okay,” she said calmly. “Whatever the doctor thinks is best.”

I turned my head toward her. “No, that’s…”

“Do you need blankets or anything?” She asked Addison. “I assume you’re staying with her the rest of the night?”

“I am, and no I’m fine, thank you,” Addison said, impossibly polite.

The nurse gave a small, approving nod. “If you need anything…” She looked at me. “Actually, I’m talking to her because I have a feeling, you’re the grin-and-bear-it type.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile before looking back at Addison.

“Just press the call button.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Addison tapped my side hard enough for me to get the message.

“Yes, thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Again, my name is Leann if either of you needs anything.”

Silence settled in again, broken only by the steady beeping of the monitor.

I stared up at the ceiling.

I hated hospitals. I had ever since my sister died. The smell, the stiff sheets, the way everything looked too clean and every sound echoed too loudly. Most of all, I hated being stuck in a bed while other people decided what happened to my body.

“I don’t need to stay,” I muttered after a moment. “I feel fine. I could go home.”

Addison shifted her chair closer to the bed. “Sawyer…“

I glanced at her.

“You were hit by a car,” she said softly. “You just had surgery. You don’t get to walk this off.”

“I’ve walked off worse,” I replied.