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Thane
“The nurse is bringing you a wheelchair.”
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” I tell Lyla, even though I haven’t walked more than back and forth to the toilet in my hospital room.
“It’s hospital policy, so don’t even try to argue,” she says with a smile. “Are you happy to be getting out of here? Are you sure you’re ready?”
“Am I ready to wear more than a baggy sheet tied on with a string, get sleep without alarms going off all night, and no longer deal with the vampires drawing my blood at five o’clock in the morning? Yeah, I think I am.”
“How are you feeling, though? Honestly. How’s the pain?”
“The pain is okay as long as I get to push that handy-dandy morphine button every few hours.”
“Hopefully the prescription the doctor gave you will do the trick after you leave here,” Lyla says. “I’ll get it filled as soon as we get you settled.”
That’s great and all, but there’s something more pressing on my mind, and I can’t resist asking her any longer. “Hey, Ly, have you talked to your dad?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just wondering. I guess he’s been busy.”
“Yeah, he’s got everyone searching for the shooter. Kidnapper. The bad guy.”
“Right. Sure,” I reply like that makes me feel better about him not coming by the hospital or even calling.
I fucked up. He’s pissed. I’m of no use to the Devil Hounds while I’m laid up in a bed. What if they don’t want me back?
“Your ride is here, Mr. Thane,” my favorite nurse says when she strolls into the room, pushing the empty wheelchair. “I also have a copy of your release papers, doctor’s instructions, and prescriptions.”
“Thank you, Allison.” Lyla takes the paperwork from the pretty nurse and stuffs it in a white plastic bag with my name and room number written on the front of it.
“Do I really have to sit in that damn thing?”
“It’s policy,” Nurse Allison replies.
“I told him that, and I told him not to bother arguing,” Lyla shares with her.
“Whatever. Fine. Just get me out of this hellhole,” I grumble as I stand up and flop down in the seat.
“I’ll carry the bag with all your things in it,” Lyla offers.
Since they cut off my clothes, there wasn’t much left of my belongings. They did give me back my phone, wallet, and keys, at least. I wonder if anyone peeked inside the wallet. If so, they were probably confused as to why I had RJ’s ID.
Thinking about him as I’m pushed onto the elevator, I look up at Lyla and ask her about the fuzzy memory I had from the other day, “Did RJ and Jordan show up here at the hospital?”
“Yeah, they did.”
“With Bear?”
“No. They were here for a few hours before he got here.”
“Why?”
Grinning at me while arching a red eyebrow, she says, “I was hoping you could tell me why.”
“No clue,” I say.
“Yeah, well, Everett and those guys all think they were trying to finish you off.”
