Page 5 of How to Catch a Rockstar

“Ahem.” The doctor shuts the chart. “You can go home today.”

“Yes!” I pump my fist.

“But,” the doctor waits for me to calm down before continuing, “you’ll need to be monitored for the next few days. There’s always a risk of your concussion worsening.”

I grin. “I have someone in mind.”

“You’re not contacting one of your hussies,” Aurora hisses. “This is serious.”

“I’m not making Gibson fly to California from Winter Falls to be my babysitter. He’s ‘busy.” I nearly choke on the word busy. I still can’t believe Gibson is in love. Maybe Mercy’s a witch and put a spell on him.

Aurora flicks a hand at me. “I’ll handle everything. I always do.”

The doctor hands her some papers. “Here are his prescriptions. The nurse will be here shortly with the discharge papers.”

Aurora gives him her smile. The one she uses to get her whatever she wants. “Thank you, doctor.”

He nods before leaving.

Aurora throws a bag, I didn’t notice she was carrying, at me. “Get dressed.”

I waggle my eyebrows. “You don’t think I look hot in this?” I start to stand. “Maybe I should walk around and let you decide.”

I was wearing the board shorts I had on for the surfing competition when I arrived at the hospital yesterday. But since they were covered in blood from my wound – head wounds bleed like a bitch – I ended up in a hospital gown.

“No,” Aurora croaks as her cheeks darken. “Put on some normal clothes.” She whirls around. “I’ll wait in the hallway.”

“You’re hurting my ego, sweetheart!” I shout after her retreating figure.

She slams the door on me but not before giving me the finger. I chuckle as I dump the clothes on the bed. Jeans and a t-shirt. No underwear. Aurora knows I don’t wear any, but I’m surprised she didn’t bring a pair anyway. She doesn’t ‘approve’ of my commando ways.

Once I’m dressed, I walk to the door and open it. “Can we leave now?”

Aurora holds up a hand to quiet me. “Okay. Thank you. Got it.”

She hangs up the phone before scanning me. She frowns when she notices my bare feet. “Don’t you have a pair of shoes?”

She doesn’t wait for my answer before barging into the room. She opens the cupboard next to the bed and rummages through it. “It’s like herding cats,” she mutters as she pulls out a pair of flip flops and throws them at me. “Put those on.”

I want to argue – arguing with Aurora is one of my favorite things to do, after all – but I don’t want to walk barefoot around the hospital floor any more than she wants me to. Broken bones and concussions are fine. Infections are not.

A man enters the room with a wheelchair.

I pump my arm. “Time to blow this popsicle station.”

I saunter toward the door but Aurora clears her throat. “Ahem.” I ignore her. “Get in the wheelchair, Jett.”

“Jett?” The nurse’s mouth gapes open. “The hospital rumor mill said you were here but I didn’t believe it.”

“Here we go again,” Aurora mutters before marching to the nurse. She gives him the smile and he’s dazed for a moment. “Steve, is it?”

His mouth gapes open as she continues to dazzle him with her smile.

“You understand why we can’t let anyone find out the drummer for Cash & the Sinners is in the hospital.”

“I do?” His response is more question than answer but Aurora plows forth.

“I appreciate your understanding. It’s very helpful.” She whips a publicity picture of the band out of her bag and hands it to me with a marker. “Jett’s going to sign this picture for you, and I’ll send a band t-shirt over for you.”

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