Page 80 of Chasing Honor

“Deal.”

“Can I get you anything before I leave?” she asked.

I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted without sounding vain, but I wanted to see how bad I looked.

“Is there a mirror I can use? And maybe get my brush out of my purse.” I looked around the room, not sure if my belongings had been retrieved from my car. “If it’s here.”

“Are you sure?”

Whoa. Her question gave me pause. What did she mean was I sure? Should I not have been? How bad did I look?

“Um, I thought I was.”

“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean the mirror. You’re beautiful. I meant, the brush. You have stitches right on your hairline. You’ll need to be careful not to tug them. Dr. Levine was very careful not to have to shave the area.” Betty pulled a hand mirror out of a drawer and handed it to me. “I think he did a great job. You should only have minimal scaring.”

I held the mirror with shaky hands. Come on, Honor, just look. I brought it up to face level and opened my eyes, the reflection staring back at me could’ve been worse—but it wasn’t all that great. Tiny, black stitches ran nearly an inch across my forehead. Betty was right, the doctor had done a great job staying as close as he could to my hairline. If I wanted to, I could always wear bangs and the scar would be hidden. There was a yellowish bruise around the area and a faint greenish hue on my right cheek and lower eyelid. All in all, it was better than I thought it would be. I looked back at the stitches and changed my mind about brushing my hair.

“Maybe just a hair tie. I’ll wait to brush it.”

“Okay, sweetie.” She opened up the same drawer she’d retrieved the mirror from and pulled a black, elastic hair band off the cardboard packaging. “We keep extras in all the rooms. You know how quickly these little buggers can break. Do you need me to help you? You can’t lift your right arm over your head with the tube in.”

Well, damn. I hadn’t thought about that. Not wanting to put Betty out, I was ready to refuse when the grandmotherly woman stepped to my side and started to gather my hair.

“Thank you,” I told her once she had my hair fastened in a low ponytail.

“Anything you need.”

Ethan opened the door but stopped when he saw Betty.

“Do you need me to wait outside?” His gaze darted between Betty and me.

“No, sir, we’re all done. Buzz me if you need anything.” She patted my shoulder and started for the door. Before she could step back into the hallway Betty snapped her fingers and turned back to us. “Your mother already called the nurses station this morning to check on our beautiful patient. She didn’t want to wake you but asked me to tell you, she’ll be by around three with your daughter. As I know you are aware, no children are allowed on this floor. I will be on break from three to three fifteen.” Then Betty lowered her voice. “Who am I to keep a cute little girl from her mama.”

“Thank you,” Ethan answered.

The door softly clicked behind Betty, and the room filled with trepidation. Mine—not Ethan’s.

“Why didn’t you correct Betty?”

“About what?”

“Come on, Ethan, you know about what.”

“What do you want to start with first?” he asked, ignoring my question.

I knew what he was asking, I just wasn’t sure how to answer. Chrissy following me or Chrissy showing up at the house and him shutting down, pushing me away, and acting like a sulking jerk?

With the ache on my left side intensifying I opted for the more to the point conversation about Chrissy behaving like a stalker and tailing me.

“The accident,” I told him.

“Chrissy was following you, so she could see Carson. That was because when she came to the house on Sunday, I told her no. Her plan was to follow you into the store and watch from a distance so she could see Carson.”

“See her? She didn’t want to take her?”

“No. And she didn’t even really want to talk to her. She just wanted to see her.”

I didn’t understand why Chrissy didn’t want to take Carson. Not that I wasn’t grateful she hadn’t planned on kidnapping her, but that would make more sense to me. Why would a mother only want to see her child?