AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A couple things hit Fleet at the same time after his little internal rebellion. One, he didn’t mind that the surgeon had called Talia his girlfriend. And two, his eyelids were already drooping. Sleep wasn’t that far away.
“Thanks, doc,” Fleet mumbled. “And food?” he remembered to ask before he shut down for the night.
“If you can stomach it, you can have breakfast in the morning.”
“I eat eggs,” Fleet offered. “And cheese.”
“I’ll make note of that on your chart. Have a good night, Mr. Eggers.”
“Thanks,” he believed he managed, but suddenly he was dead-tired. The surgeon left the room.
“I should probably be going, too,” Talia’s voice momentarily perked him up. Her shadow was within touching distance again.
Fleet reached for her hand and…yes. She took it gently.
“Can you stay until I fall asleep?” he asked.
“You want me here?” she countered. “After I was such a skunk to you?”
Fleet chuckled, or at least he thought he did. “My fault,” he yawned, and it hurt, so he shut that down. “I was being selfish; only thinking of myself.”
“No. It was me who was selfish,” she returned. “But I… I regret it, and want to be with you, Fleet. Will you let me come back tomorrow?”
“Mm, hmm,” he managed, hoping his lips were smiling as he bid them to. He roused himself for one last tease. “But Talia, I won’t be ready for sex yet.”
Talia’s laugh made him feel light again. “I can wait.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Damn, Fleet was a horrible patient.
Not because he was demanding. No.It was just the opposite. The man was frustratingly quiet and compliant, not asking for anything; never voicing any discomfort, never rocking the boat. As far as Talia was concerned, Fleet was taking the whole “I’ve been selfish” thing he’d admonished himself for, to a ridiculous extreme.
Fuck that. He needed to start whining a little to prove he was human.
For the third night in a row, Talia tried to disabuse him of the idea that he was being in any way demanding or thoughtless, urging him to ask her for something.Anything.
“You know, the doctor told me I could pick you up some interesting foods if you’re getting sick of hospital chow,” Talia offered.
She’d seen the various stuff they brought in which was supposed to pass for vegetarian meals, and it always looked like a pile of rotting compost to her.
Fleet looked at her thoughtfully. “No. I’m good,” he told her, maddeningly, before turning his attention back to the ball game on TV.
There was a good thing. His vision had fully returned about thirty or so hours after surgery, and his headaches, he said, had subsided to a three on a scale of ten. Whether that could be believed with his current level of non-advocacy for himself, Talia wasn’t sure. But what could she do? Beat him over the head to get him to admit his pain?Uh…scratch that. Not a cool picture. She eyed him now, with equal parts tenderness and frustration. The man was a definite conundrum.
Fleet was comfortably ensconced in a private room at the end of a hallway on the third floor of the hospital where the noise level was fairly low. He’d remain there—notwithstanding a return to the ICU if something went wrong with his procedure tomorrow—until he got the green light on being released. Which he seemed…content about, if she were any judge.
Talia had found, in the ensuing days of visiting Fleet at night after work, that besides being a complete music enthusiast, he was also a huge Red Sox fan. The man was four days out of surgery, and Talia had spent the last three evenings watching the games with him, trying to cajole him into showing some emotion.Anyemotion. Even when Fleet’s favorite player hit a home run, the man only gave a minor fist pump.
Talia was heartily sick of his whole disengaged demeanor. Where was the man she knew who was so passionate about his work? Where was the guy who’d kissed the crap out of her? Where was the workaholic who’d insisted—that first day after surgery—that he needed to get back to his studio ASAP, because he had a huge pile of work that couldn’t wait? When had his whole attitude taken a turn toward apathy?
Talia glared at Fleet, but he continued to ignore her. She could handle that, but what she couldn’t wrap her head around was him eschewing any signs of emotion. Which had everyone pussy-footing around him. Yeah? Screw that. She’d had it.
“Fleet. You’re being a jerk,” she told him.
That got his eyes snapping toward hers.
“Why? What do you mean? I’ve been good. I’ve been doing everything I’m supposed to,” he…pouted.
