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“That’s good,” I breathed. “How long am I going to be in here?” I asked. Now that I knew what was going to happen to Aaron, there was no point in talking about him…ever again.
“There’s no way to tell,” my mom said, pulling up a chair beside my bed, so that her and Trace were on each side of me. “It all depends on how well you do. A physical therapist has been coming in every day, to work with moving your legs and arms so that it will be easier for you to walk.”
“I don’t like that guy,” Trace seethed.
“The physical therapist?” I croaked.
Trace nodded. “His smile is creepy.”
I started to laugh, which turned to a cough, and I ended up clutching my ribs in pain. “Ow,” I cried, fighting tears. My chest felt like a bull had stepped on it.
“Don’t laugh, baby,” Trace bit his lip, “it’ll hurt your ribs.”
“You think?” I glared at him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled and sat back in the chair.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you, but it really hurts,” I whined, “and I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some water,” he hopped up from the chair and ran for the door. I think he was relieved to be able to do something to help me.
My mom was still sniffling, and I really wished she’d stop, because it made me feel bad. I didn’t like seeing her or anyone, this upset over me. I didn’t
want anyone to suffer, because I was suffering. That didn’t seem right. The sadness that lingered in her eyes, as they fluttered over my body, upset me. Trace had that same look in his eyes when he looked at me. It was a look that said they wished they could heal me by glance alone.
The door opened and Trace stepped inside with a Styrofoam cup of water with a straw. Since I was so weak, he held the cup for me while I wrapped my lips around the straw, sucking slowly. My throat was still raw from the screaming I did…and for all I knew, I might have had a breathing tube, at one point.
When I nodded that I was finished, Trace placed the cup on the tray over my bed.
“I talked to a nurse. They’ll be in to check on you and take your temperature. They’re concerned about you getting a fever,” he explained, with his arms crossed over his lean chest.
“Why would they be worried about a fever?” I questioned.
Trace swallowed. “Your body has sustained a lot of damage and your system is weak. You’re going to be more susceptible to getting ill and if you get a fever…it could escalate fast,” the worry on his face tore me apart.
“I feel fine,” I assured him, desperate to make the line between his brows disappear. I wiggled my fingers and he placed his hand lightly in mine.
Looking over his gaunt appearance, I reluctantly muttered, “You should go home and eat, Trace. Take a shower and get some sleep. You look exhausted.”
“I’m not leaving,” he shook his head vehemently.
“What about Ace?” I hoped the mention of the puppy would spurn him into action.
“Trent’s staying at the apartment with Ace, so he’s fine,” Trace assured me.
“Still,” I rubbed his fingers, “you should get some rest. I feel guilty.”
He placed a tender kiss on the tip of my nose. “Don’t pull the guilt card, Olivia. I’m not going anywhere.”
I swallowed thickly. How did I get so lucky with Trace?
Continuing, he added, “I’m not leaving this hospital until you do.”
“What about work?” I inquired.
“Pete knows what happened, hell, all the guys do. My apartment was a crime scene for a few days until the police got everything they needed. So, he understands why I need to be here,” Trace explained, running his fingers through his hair.
“Okay,” I finally agreed, “but can you at least shower?”
