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“No doubt,” she grunts.
Opening the letter, I start scanning over it, and the further I get, the wider my eyes become.
Holy shit.
“Fuck yeah,” Mel cheers, pumping her fists into the sky as I read through the letter thoroughly, my heart pounding right out of my chest. “I knew today was going to be a good day.”
“You getting a payout too?” I question.
“Sure am,” she beams, blinking rapidly as though unable to believe what’s right in front of her face. “It’s not enough to buy my island, but certainly enough for a new set of tits.”
As if on cue, we switch our letters and get busy reading again. “Wow, thirty-five thousand dollars? Not bad,” I tell her as I look back up at her to see her eyes practically bugging out of her head, realizing just how much my payout is.
“Holy shit, dude,” she grunts in disbelief. “You’re getting one hundred and seventy-three thousand big ones.”
“Apparently,” I murmur, unable to wrap my head around it.
She stares at me, confusion flashing in her eyes. “What’s wrong? You’re not happy about this?” she questions. “I’m fucking thrilled.”
“I bet you are,” I laugh before shrugging my shoulders, unease pulsing through my veins. “I just don’t think you can put a price on getting shot. Like, who’s out there determining a figure on what my trauma is worth?”
She lets out a sigh and gives my good shoulder a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “That was insensitive of me. I’m just . . . I’m excited.”
“It’s okay,” I say before taking the letter back from her and glancing over it again. “Is this even legal? I mean, what are they trying to achieve? Is it hush money?”
“When I hear is it legal and hush money in the same sentence, it’s usually right before I put some bastard behind bars,” comes a groggy, sleepy voice from behind us.
I turn around to find Sean heading up the hallway, his hand resting against his chest while showing off those show-stopping, orgasm-inducing abs. An almighty yawn rips out of him as I get up off the couch and grab him some painkillers and a glass of water.
He greedily accepts them from me, swallowing the pills and following them down with the water before pulling me into his arms and pressing a kiss to my lips. “Morning,” he murmurs, his lips moving against mine.
“Good morning to you, too,” I say, pleased he managed to make it through the night without redecorating my home with vomit.
“Ugh, you two are going to make me taste my breakfast again,” Mel grunts before pulling her bag higher on her shoulder and blowing me a kiss. “I have to go. Will I see you for dinner?”
My mouth opens to answer but Sean gets in first. “Nope.”
Glancing up at him with furrowed brows, I go to ask why the hell not, but he’s clearly not giving anything away.
Mel slips out the door, and as Sean tightens his hold around me and kisses me again, I melt into him. I’ve been kissed by a few guys in my twenty-six years, but nothing will ever compare to this. Overwhelming passion and emotion pour through him when he touches me, and I simply can’t get enough.
Leading Sean over to the couch, I grab my discarded letter before handing it to him. “What do you make of this?” I ask as he takes it from me. “I don’t quite understand it.”
He reads through it, and from the look on his face, the painkillers haven’t quite kicked in yet, but he forces his way through the entire thing. “Looks as though the hospital is giving the staff and families involved in the shooting a payout in hopes they don’t get sued for negligence.”
“What?” I grunt, my eyes widening. “Why would anyone do that? The hospital isn’t to blame. The shooter is.”
“I agree, but people are greedy. All they see are dollar signs, and if there’s a chance to make a quick buck, they’ll take it. Besides, they know they’ll never get anything out of the shooter, so they’ll go after the hospital instead.”
“What do you mean?” I question as Sean falls onto the couch and pulls me down with him.
“The hospital will be sued for negligence and probably a shitload of other things which could ruin them. The last thing the hospital needs is a highly publicized court case. Its reputation will be dragged through the mud and they’ll be up for millions of dollars.”
“Shit,” I mutter, looking at him. “What do I do?”
“I can’t answer that for you, babe.”
Damn him and his moral high ground. “Well . . . what are my options?”
“The way I see it, you have three,” he starts. “You could ignore the letter and forget anything ever happened. You could sue the hospital and come out a very wealthy woman, though probably never work there again, or you could accept the money in this letter and put it behind you.”
