Page 77 of Reclaiming Adelaide

I nodded and sat back down on the edge of the bed. She taped my port down while Jake watched with crossed arms.

“All set.” She tucked her scissors back into her pocket, and picked up the wrappers, then tossed them in the bin. “Can I help you with anything?”

Shaking my head, I walked towards the bathroom, my hospital gown flapping behind me. “I’m good. Thank you.”

A fresh pair of clothes lay on the sink, folded and ready for me. I sighed and ran my fingers over the soft fabric. I’d been in this itchy gown for too long and needed to feel normal again.

I shut the door behind me, but it swung back open with Jake standing in the open doorway.

“I’m going to step out and get your paperwork settled so we can go.”

“But I thought you were going to help me get dressed?”

“Do you need my help?” He stepped into the bathroom and placed his hand on my hip, his fingers skimming the top of my ass.

I shook my head, throat closing as my heart pitter-pattered like a love-sick girl—because I was. I was head over heels for this man who had me forgiving him the moment I woke up from my near-death experience.

“Okay.” He kissed my forehead, then stepped out, leaving me gasping for words. “I’ll be outside your room if you need me.”

I nodded and shut the door again. Reaching behind my head, I pulled on the string at my neck, letting the gown fall to the floor, and looked in the mirror.

Black bags tainted the skin under my eyes—my cheeks hollowed pits. I didn’t look emaciated, but my bottom rib poked out like it didn’t belong.

How did I get like this?

I’d eaten and drank water but also vomited… a lot. Some days, I hadn’t been able to hold anything down. But I thought women gained weight when they were pregnant?

I stretched my poor muscles and pulled my shirt over my head, foregoing the bra. There was no way I’d be able to reach back there and clasp onto those little hooks. Let’s not forget the concentration it took to line those things up behind your back.

My shorts came next, then my socks, when the door to my room opened. “I’m almost done.”

Did I imagine the noise, or did he just not hear me?

“Jake?” I said, sticking my head out of the bathroom door.

A man in hospital scrubs, too tight to be comfortable, stood beside my IV bag next to the bed.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“No problem. I’m just adjusting your IV. Are you ready to get hooked back up?” His deep accented voice, with wavering vowels, struck me to the core. My stomach dropped, and the room blurred.

“I’m-I’m almost done. I’ll have the nurse do it when she comes back in.”

It was him, the man with the banded tattoo. It was darker in person, with a thick, solid band and a thinner one below. I shut the bathroom door and twisted the lock in place, a squeal escaping me.

But how? How did they find me?

“Everything okay, ma’am?”

I bit my knuckles, biting back the scream clawing at my throat. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice breaking. “Just stubbed my toe.”

“Let’s get you hooked up and resting.”

The silver door handle moved down, and I reached out, holding the handle in place. “I’m going to the restroom. I’ll have the nurse do it when she comes back.”

“Okay, I’ll wait.”

“That’s fine.Really. I’ll be a while.”

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