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But mainly, I didn’t like having her so close to the worst part of me.
My scars I could handle.
But my back? It wasn’t something that I wanted anyone to see. Ever.
Luckily, she didn’t ask questions.
Unluckily, I knew that the only reason that she didn’t was because of Captain Morgan standing
across the room staring at the two of us.
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t remember anything beyond waking up in the hospital. I was told my
name. Where I was from. Who my parents were. Who my best friend was.”
I paused, wincing at that.
But Frankie didn’t pause in her cleaning of my wound.
She didn’t lean forward and inspect my wounds more closely.
She just cleaned, bandaged, and then moved on to my forearms.
When she was finished, she clapped her hands and then removed her gloves.
“All done,” she chirped.
But she wouldn’t look me in the eyes.
Mother. Fucker.
“I’m going to go get the nurse to get your discharge paperwork…” And without another word, she
was out of the room and disappearing into the nurses’ station.
I felt like someone took a sledgehammer to my gut.
“Don’t go there, boy.”
I looked over to see Morgan staring at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.
“Yeah, you do,” he confirmed. “And she’s mourning. You’re a living, breathing reminder of what
she no longer has.”
I had nothing to say to that.
Not a damn thing.
So, I shut my trap, waited for my discharge paperwork, then took my leave.
Luckily, Morgan had allowed me to drive myself over here, meaning I didn’t have to wait to be
taken back to the station.
Giving him a chin tilt as I left, I made my way to my bike, then further to my empty house.
