Page 29 of Wait For It

I’d said my piece and was moving on.

Yes, sir.

I was one hundred percent done with distractions, even if they did have the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. She looked familiar—so, what? It was probably because I’d met millions of women just like her throughout my career.

And I was only interested in knowing how she’d ended up with broken ribs because she couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

Awfully young for the old, ‘I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up’routine.

Wanting to be informed of someone’s injury didn’t mean I was suddenly going against my plan. This was nothing more than a fact-finding mission because we were going to be sharing space for the foreseeable future.

Made perfect sense to me.

“The persistent dizziness transitioning from wheelchair to standing has really limited what we can do—although, hand-eye coordination is where I expect it to be given the circumstances—”

“What the hell does that mean?” I blurted without thinking.

Obviously, I’d meant to say that in my head.

The conversation ceased, and I quickly jerked my head back toward the television, sensing two pairs of eyes studying me intently. Their glares seemed to contain equal parts frustration and suspicion, which gave me about a snowball’s chance in hell of them continuing to talk openly in front of me.

Well, it certainly wasn’t the worst odds I’d ever faced…

Of course, there was nothing but celebratory coverage of the Bears on the screen, because apparently, every other sports league had decided to take the night off.

“You can’t—” I fumbled with the words before sputtering, “You can’t call Sanchez a legend-in-the-making! He’s a rookie!”

I doubted the wordlegendhad ever been uttered in any sentence on Sanchez—but they didn’t know that.

Hopefully.

The silence seemed to stretch on for minutes, and I briefly considered shaking my fist at the screen to really drive home my point before deciding it would only give me away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could just make out Rocky’s intent stare. He was debating with himself, looking for a way to prove I’d been eavesdropping.

Like he had any room to judge.

When he finally turned back to Natalie, I released the breath I’d been holding, ready to get some answers.

What happened to you, girl?

Not that it was any of my business. I’d made my mind up and hearing some sob story wasn’t likely to change it.

Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to listen to every word, though.

People loved a sad story, something that really tugged on their heartstrings. Anyone who said otherwise was a liar. In a cynical world, humans craved being made to feel something other than apathy.

It was why those commercials with the abandoned and abused animals were so effective in getting people to hand over their wallets. Although, instead of sitting in a cage looking forlorn, the girl was more likely to be frothing at the mouth while she gnawed on the metal bars.

“What about speech? Has Fynn noticed any improvement?”

At the mention of talking, I forgot about feigning disinterest and turned my head to where I could see both of them.

Natalie sighed. “He said she tries—she even moves her lips a lot, but he’s still only able to make out a word or two. It could be residual effects from being on the vent and then having the trach.

“Although, when we were talking, he mentioned something about the location of language areas in the brain. I guess they typically work independently of right or left-handedness, but in a small number of cases, it’s the right hemisphere that’s dominant for language. With the patient being left-handed, we can’t necessarily rule it out.”

Rocky circled something on Natalie’s tablet with his finger. “It would make sense given that her brain injury occurred on the right side, but I think the fact she’s trying to communicate is a good sign, Nat.”

“How can we know so much about these injuries, and yet, still so little?”

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