Page 117 of The Prodigal

So, so fucked.

And it’s never felt better.

Eden and I are sharing a room.

Right now, we’re sharing a bed. The hospital staff doesn’t like it, neither does Duke. He thinks we need space so that she doesn’t pinch my lines or that I don’t finger her pussy while he sleeps in the recliner.

Okay, he didn’t mention the fingering bit.

Vance did.

But then my girl cried and told them she got scared at night without me, and they caved. A woman’s tears are a powerful weapon—but not nearly as powerful as her loyalty.

Eden doesn’t need me at night.

I need her.

There’s no closet in our room, and unless they dope me up, I won’t sleep alone in a bed. But none of the Potters know that. Because my girl is loyal as fuck and took one for Team Adam.

“Can we turn on the TV or something?” I blurt out the question to the ridiculous number of people in my room, all sitting in new plastic chairs with yellow bows on them. They thought they were fucking cute bringing these chairs instead of the cigarettes I asked for when they left earlier. “Because if I can’t smoke this nicotine patch on my arm or fondle Eden under her gown, without someone clutching their pearls, I’m going to need a distraction.”

I promised my mother that I’d stop smoking in a moment of weakness. Clearly, she’s learned some of Eden’s manipulation tactics. She fucking ambushed me with tears one night as she hugged me and made me swear to take care of myself now.

I told her no.

She shrugged and told me she understood but hoped I would reconsider since I had to be discharged to her because I would need help for the first few weeks.

I didn’t understand at the time until she added,“your father is looking forward to making up for all those hugs he missed with you.”

I had no choice but to quit smoking.

I couldn’t risk being his teddy bear. One hug is enough for him until Father’s Day. Vance can handle the rest of the year.

Astor sighs dramatically when no one volunteers to pick up the remote that I threw at Vance earlier. If I heard one more time that he wasn’t my fucking nurse and to use my call light, I was going to kill him. Obviously, I didn’t. I threw that fucking call light instead, which is how you turn on the TV—hence the reason no one is eager to give it back to me.

“I’ll only throw it at Vance,” I promise, when Astor looks at me with a Dad frown. “Unless you want me to throw it at Duke too?”

“I’ll just hold on to it for you for a little while longer.”

Whatever, I don’t give a shit anyway. I don’t need a nurse. I like to fuck with Vance and have him get me cups of ice every five minutes, just so he can say no, which then causes Halle to yell at him.

Astor turns on the TV, but he doesn’t scroll through the channels for Eden and me to pick something. Instead, he leaves it on the fucking news.

“Are you serious?” I bark. “I understand you are older than Moses, but we aren’t. Knit and watch the news at your own house.”

“You’ve been moodier than a teenage girl,” Astor chides. “Maybe the news will settle you down.”

“And you’ve been around as much as Halle’s period. Maybe the ‘news’ will get you to fire your brother for knocking up your assistant on the job.”

A collective gasp goes around the room as Halle turns bright red. “How did you know?”

Because I know those two idiots. “There’s ginger ale in Vance’s flask,” I admit like it’s obvious.

Vance’s eyes widen as he puts it together. “You’re such a fucker,” he accuses. “You just had a kidney transplant. Were you seriously trying to drink liquor from my flask?”

Disappointed stares go around the room. It’s the most entertainment I’ve had all day. “Actually,” I admit, “I was just making sure your bitch-ass wasn’t drinking after I heard Halle puking in the bathroom this morning.”

I point at her shocked face. “Eden and I weren’t asleep, but even if we had been, your man-heaves would have woken us.”

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