Page 70 of More Than Falling in Love

After pulling my hair over my shoulder so that it doesn’t land in his face, I kiss his forehead.“I’m sorry about everything.I want what you want.And I think maybe I figured out a way for that to happen.”Then I rest my head on his chest.

Hopefully, the nurse doesn’t walk in right now because there’s probably some rule about cuddling patients after surgery.Or maybe not.But I don’t want to be thrown out.I lift my head but stop when I feel a tug on my ear.What is my earring snagged on?

I reach up to remove the earring but freeze when Kent shifts again.

“How’s he doing?”The nurse is way too chipper for this time of night.

Hoping my earrings are breakaway, I stand up.My ear stings, but since there isn’t blood dripping onto the blanket, I’m assuming my earlobe isn’t ripped open.

“He’s still asleep.”I step away from the bed as she checks wires and monitors.

“Probably will be for a while.”She looks over her shoulder as she walks toward the door.“Need anything?”

“I’m good.”I’ll be better when Kent is awake.

I drag a chair close to the bed and watch his chest rise and fall.He’ll be out for a while, and I’ll be here when he wakes up.And maybe then, I can search for my earring.I hate to disturb his sleep by digging around in the covers right now.

Holding his hand, I drift in and out of sleep.My eyelids pop open when he calls out, “Flutter.”

His fingers tighten around mine, and hope blooms in my chest.He doesn’t hate me.

I fall back to sleep, eager to tell him about my move.

Loud beeps pull me back to consciousness, but thankfully, the alarm bells aren’t for Kent.I rub my eyes, then see him staring at me.

“Hi.”

“You shouldn’t have come.”

I swallow back the sting.“I heard you were in the hospital and wanted—”

“Go home, Poppy.”

Apparently, he does hate me.

I pick up my purse and walk out the door.Willpower and determination are the only things holding back a massive flood of tears.I avoid looking at other people on the elevator and rush toward the exit as soon as my path is clear.

Finally, on the bench outside, I sob.

The bench shifts as someone sits beside me.How dense does a person have to be to intrude on my space right now?I’m crying my eyes out, not looking for a chat buddy.

Then a napkin comes into view.

“It’s mostly clean.Probably.I found it in my truck.”Parker bumps my shoulder.“He’s a horrible patient.Don’t take what he said personally.”

I wipe my face, then blow my nose.“He meant every word.”

“Want to go back up there with me?”

I shake my head.My visit has caused enough damage.“But he’s going to find an earring in his covers.It’s mine.”I rub my earlobe.“There was a little mishap.”

“A mishap?”

“Yeah.I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Need a ride?”

“Will you take me to the airport?I can’t stay here right now.There’s stuff I have to do in New York.”

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