Page 73 of Quiver

She searched her memory. “Bex gave me something, or several things, and they pulled the arrow out. That moment’s a little hazy. Maybe I blocked it. Then did I fall asleep?”

“Not exactly, but you were pretty out of it.”

“Why, did I drool?”

Kylie smiled slightly. “No.”

“What then?” She didn’t like that Kylie seemed to be fishing. “I didn’t say anything embarrassing, did I?”

Kylie shook her head. “Not at all.”

It still felt like she wasn’t saying something, and at the same time, she believed her. She might’ve even said as much if Bex hadn’t returned with another young doctor in tow.

“Good morning. I’m Dr. Hanland, and I’m here because Dr. Leone is calling in some personal favors to get you sprung today.”

“Thank you,” Fletcher said. “Both of you.”

“I hear you had a run-in with Cupid yesterday.”

She glanced around the room, her eyes lingering on Kylie for a second too long. “What?”

Dr. Hanland smiled. “An arrow? Right? Like Cupid’s bow … nothing?”

“Oh, yeah. I fell on my own arrow.”

“Okay, not one for metaphor or poetry I see.”

Kylie snorted softly, causing the doctor to turn to her.

“And you are her … um … movie star?”

Kylie’s smile spread. “I am her … yes, that’s as easy an explanation as any.”

Fletcher rolled her eyes.

The doctor waited a beat, perhaps hoping for more, but when he didn’t get anything, he folded down the sheets and did an inspection similar to Bex’s. “In a surprise to no one, I agree with Dr. Leone’s assessment. You’re incredibly fortunate the arrow went in where it did instead of higher up or more central. The antibiotics also seem to be working, and I want you to stay on them, though we can switch to oral instead of intravenous. Given the placement and depth of the wound, your protocols should resemble someone healing from a keyhole kind of surgery.”

“What exactly would those be?”

“Rest, hydrate, ease back into solid foods slowly, keep the sutures dry, no lifting anything more than ten pounds for at least a week until you follow up with your general care physician.”

Fletcher grimaced, but suspected if she argued they might not let her go.

“And your chart shows you had a pretty strong reaction to the anesthesia, so I’d rather you not be alone for forty-eight hours. Do you have someone at home to keep an eye on you?”

“My dog,” Fletcher said.

“Anyone who could dial 911 if you passed out?”

“You could come to Ava’s with me,” Bex offered quickly, but before she could think of a way to politely refuse, Kylie cut in.

“I’ll stay with her.”

They all turned to her. Then both doctors glanced back at Fletcher.

She wasn’t eager to repeat the turmoil they’d suffered after Kylie’s last overnight visit, but even she could admit a lot had happened since then. “You don’t have to—”

“I know,” Kylie said quickly, “but you’ll sleep better in your own bed, and you can tell me what needs to be done around the farm. If you can’t lift, you’ll need help, and we both know you won’t ask for it.”