Page 28 of Cabin Fever

"What are you doing?" He tried to escape my grasp and purposely dodged my question.

"Helping you out of here. I'm going to take you home."

"You're going to drive? But you said yourself Dr. Ferguson had to help you drive here. How are you going to drive me?"

My lips flapped as I blew air out of them. "You'll be there. If I am not stopping in time, you can do what the doctor did . . . scream. I knew when that happened it was time for me to act."

Carter's mouth opened and his rosy cheeks faded until I thought I needed to call Molly again. He shook his head and with a whimper, let me help him out of bed.

The doctor had cut away his shirt and coat when he got to the hospital. Dr. Ferguson had mentioned for me to bring some extra clothing just in case, and I was thankful he had. I helped Carter wrestle the sweater over his cast, but we gave up.

After getting a pair of scissors from the nurses' station, I set about cutting out the arm from the sweater he partially had on.

"Whatever you do, Olivia, do not nick a vein."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be careful."

And he thought I was over dramatic.

The sleeve was removed with only two jabs to his skin and not a drop of blood was shed. That's what I call success.

He moved slowly out of the building and into the parking lot, occasionally looking back at the hospital with longing. How could anyone want to spend more time in that interior designers' nightmare? I chalked it up to the pain affecting his senses.

I opened the truck door and helped him inside before running over to the driver's side. "Ready for some excitement?"

With a grin I turned the key to the vehicle, but nothing happened.

"Maybe I should drive."

"No, you are in pain. Your need to rest."

I bit my nail trying to figure out why the truck wouldn't start.

"I still think it would be safer if I drove."

Taking a breath, I shifted in my seat to look at Carter. "You don't trust I can do this, do you?"

"I believe you think you can drive . . ." His mouth thinned and it appeared as if he was holding in a fart.

That's the attitude that led me to being spoiled. When I came here last week, I didn't even know how to make my own plate of food, expecting him to serve me. But that was the old Olivia. The new Olivia not only tried to do things herself, she mastered them with ease.

"I may have only been taught how to drive a truck for the first time today . . . Which, I am learning isn't always like driving a car. Or maybe it is, I don't know. I haven't driven a car in about twelve years when I got my license, but I'm a quick learner. I'll have you know that I got straight As in high school. I'm not stupid, Carter."

"I'm not saying you're dumb, Olivia. I already had one near-death experience today. Well, two, if you count when you tried to drag me down the ladder from the loft after I fell. I really don't want another one."

I gave him my winning smile. It was an actual award-winning grin—I won best smile in theWashington, DC Socialitemagazine two years in a row.

Reaching over, I patted his knee. "Not to worry. Just remember to scream if I'm about to hit something." I tapped my head with my finger. "Remember, Carter, I'm a super quick learner."

I started the truck, realizing I hadn't had my foot on the break before. As I backed out of the parking space, I heard Carter whimper again.

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