Page 40 of Burn

I want her. God, I want her so fucking bad.

The air goes thick. The stench of decay filling my nostrils and I need to get the fuck out of here. I can’t fucking breathe. I rip the door open, and the hall smells like antiseptic and sickness. I step toward her room before thinking better of it when the door opens and a nurse steps out, smiling at me. I pivot, marching in the other direction until I reach the elevators.

Keep it together.

I slam the button again and again, but nothing happens. It feels like I wait an eternity, until I mutter a desperate, “Fuck,” and slam through the door to the stairwell, taking them two at a time slowing only when I step into the mid-morning sunlight. The warmth on my skin feels wrong, as if I were expecting icy wind. I reach into my pocket, digging out my keys, and my truck shakes when I slam the door closed and grip the steering wheel.

Leave.

Drive.

Turn the fucking truck on.

Get the hell away.

Away from her.

I allow my head to fall forward to rest on the steering wheel, my chest heaving. I hear her voice again. Urging me to focus onwhat I can feel. The leather of the steering wheel. The floor of the truck under my feet. The sound of something hitting the hood of the truck startles me, and I spring up, greeted by a massive black crow. It walks the edge of the hood, its eyes focused on me as it marches back and forth, taunting me, until movement scares it away. I watch it spread its wings and soar into the trees, taking perch close enough to keep a watchful eye.

The nurse steps up to the window, smiling. When I don’t immediately roll it down, she raps on it, then cranks her hand, signaling me to lower it. I look to the trees once more, looking for the crow, but it’s gone, so I step out of the truck. Sky-blue eyes meet mine, and she says, “Hi! Come with me.” She turns and strolls back toward the hospital entrance, beckoning with her finger and leaving me no choice but to trail after. The elevator ride is silent as she stabs her phone, and it’s not until we’re standing back at the nurses’ station in the burn unit that she stashes it in the front pocket of her scrubs and looks at me.

“We’re releasing Lex today,” she says brightly. “The doctor would prefer to release her into the care of a friend or family member.” I stare at her without speaking. I’m neither her friend nor her family. When I don’t reply, the nurse asks, “You gonna take her home?”

I can’t think of anything else to say but, “I’m not family.”

The nurse giggles, and I catch a glimpse of a neon pink tongue ring behind her bright smile. “But, youareher ride, right?” She waggles her eyebrows, and her tone drips with innuendo.

She leans across the counter, the move cat-like, her ass on full display.

She’s flirting with me.

When she pulls back to face me, she catches the trail of my eyes and smiles wider, handing me an envelope. “We gave Lexa copy, but this is her treatment plan, plus a couple of prescriptions. Inhaler — Albuterol — a steroid, and antibiotics, just in case. A referral has also been sent to a respiratory therapist, and she’ll need to follow up with a pulmonologist. Do you have any questions?”

Yeah, why the fuck are you letting her go with me?

“No,” I reply coolly.

“Excellent!” she chirps, tucking a strand of strawberry hair behind her ear and blinking long lashes at me. “I’m going to get the rest of her discharge papers, and you should be good to go in the next half hour or so.” She steps toward me, lowering her voice slightly. “So, you’re a firefighter?” she asks, and I nod. “Too bad you’re taken,” she sighs, an expectant look on her face. “Any single friends?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“Thanks,” I say before turning and walking away, hearing another nurse playfully scold her, snickering, “You’re so bad!”

I pause outside of her room and open the envelope. The papers include breathing exercises, a suggestion for monitoring oxygen levels, and a humidifier, as well as guidance on consuming plenty of fluids and avoiding certain things: no extreme temperatures, no smoking, no dust, etc. Returning the papers to the envelope, I step up to the door and reach for the handle; however, I stop myself, deciding to knock. From inside, I barely hear her say, “Come in, Adrian.”

My stomach flutters as nerves overtake me.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I expect the room to be in the same condition as I left it. Dark, silent, with Lex in a hospital gown, but it’s bright, lit by the overhead fluorescents, and she stands in the bathroom, arms stretched out, trying and failing to braid her long, dark hair. She grumbles, frustrated, when pieces spill out, and sherakes her fingers through it, then starts again. I set the envelope on one of the chairs, step behind her in the bathroom, and push her hands away. Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I realize she’s wearing clothes. An enormous, oversized t-shirt and sweatpants that seem to be designed for someone about six inches shorter than she is.

“I feel okay, until I try to do anything,” she sighs, “Then I get so fucking tired. My arms feel like they’re made of lead.”

My words sit, lodged in my throat, so I nod and reach for her hair, brushing it over her shoulders, separating it into three sections, and twisting it into the braid she couldn’t manage to create. It takes me all of two minutes, and when I finish and step back, she turns to face me, her stormy eyes meeting mine, her cheeks flush the prettiest pink, and she mutters, “Thanks,” before stepping around me.

She shifts nervously, looking around the room. Without looking at me, she says, “So they think I’m going with you. I didn’t want to delay things, so I didn’t argue. Would you mind checking me out and then dropping me at a hotel or something?”

She can’t possibly think I’m letting her go to some shitty fucking hotel?

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