Page 317 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

NINETEEN

Siena cracked aching eyelids open to see white stucco tile staring back at her from the ceiling. A strong antiseptic smell burned her lungs with every breath. The low, rhythmic beeps made her head pound. Something hurt like fucking hell in her chest.

She coughed.

Oh, God.

Yeah, shit, that hurt way worse.

Still, she refused to close her eyes and go back to sleep, no matter how much she wanted to do just that. She could tell she was in the hospital, but it was only after a few seconds of being lucid that she remembered why she had found herself there.

Her mother shot her.

Her own mother.

Siena blinked again.

“Look into this light for me, sweetheart, and follow it,” she heard a man say.

That statement was quickly followed by a snarled grumble in the corner of the room—an angry, heated hiss of words that both worried her, and comforted her. Siena’s bed was propped up higher, and her gaze found the person in question.

John.

His hard-set jaw, and blazing eyes would have nailed the doctor to the wall had the man been looking at John. He clearly didn’t like the man using pet names on Siena, and while it was cute, she didn’t even think she had the energy to smile at the moment.

“Follow the light, not the angry Marcello in the corner,” the doctor said, grinning just a little.

Apparently, she could smile.

It didn’t take that much effort after all.

“Sorry,” she rasped.

“Johnathan,” the doctor said, “I think the patient could use a bit of water. Three quarters of ice, one quarter of water, please.”

“The nurse—”

“They are all busy at the moment. Siena will be fine for the entire forty seconds it will wake you to walk across the hall to the machine, and fill her a cup of water.”

John looked like he struggled the most just to get up out of that chair. His blazing gaze flitted between the doctor, and Siena momentarily before settling on her. The anger there quickly bled away when she offered him a dry-lipped smile.

Or the best she could give.

“Please?” she asked him.

John nodded, but he didn’t tear his gaze away from her until he was out of the room entirely.

“He’s very protective of you,” the doctor noted, still moving his light.

Siena followed it with her gaze as she had been instructed to do. “He can’t really help it.”

“He scares my nurses sometimes.”

“Yeah, he can’t really help that, either.”

The doctor chuckled low, and clicked the button on the end of his mini-flashlight. The bright light turned off, and then he shoved it into his breast pocket.

“All in all, you’re doing remarkably well. We expected you to wake up within a few hours of your surgery,” he explained, “but maybe your body felt you needed the extra rest, as it’s been twenty-four hours since you came out of the OR.”