Page 98 of Fallen Empire
Except Ben, who was staring at me like he could cut my tongue out with the knife I knew he kept in his pocket.
I didn’t blame him. I should’ve talked to him first, because whatever trust I just broke between him and Millie? It was going to be bad.
I’d questioned it earlier, after that comment Millie made to Savannah.
But seeing her now, rage like a fuse lit too long, that complete emotional shutdown...
There was something going on between them.
Something real.
Nurse Ruth cleared her throat. Loud. Intentionally.
“Now that all of you are focused on what matters,” she said, glancing around the room like a general sizing up her troops, “let’s get to work.”
I pulled the sheet all the way back, careful not to jostle any of the wires.
“Okay, Rulebreaker,” Ruth said, motioning to Millie. “You’re going to stand at the end. Let’s see if we can get her to sit up first, then we’ll work on getting her legs over the side.”
Ruth then nodded toward the door. “Young man, grab the walker for me, would you?”
Ben didn’t speak, just moved. Almost automatic, like following orders gave him permission to stop shooting daggers at my head.
Ruth stepped in on Savannah’s left side and gave her a look that saiddon’t even think about quitting now. “You ready to earn that release, sweetheart?”
Savannah didn’t answer right away. Her hand gripped the sheets tight. Then, she nodded once.
Ruth adjusted the bed to lift her up in slow, mechanical increments. Not too fast, not too much. They had to ease her up carefully, especially after the trauma. I knew the protocol, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.
Despite her no-nonsense attitude, Ruth’s hands were steady and deliberate. Every movement had purpose. She was a damn force that was hell-bent on making sure Savannah left this hospital stronger than when she came in.
I used to think that kind of grit only came from combat. But watching her work? I was starting to believe it came from something deeper. That primal instinct women tap into when protecting someone they love. The same fire Savannah had burned into her bones.
I looked around the room, and for a split second, all the tension—Ben’s anger, Millie’s rage, my guilt—was suspended.
Everyone here had dropped the bullshit to make sure Savannah was okay.
And for that, I owed every one of them more than they’d ever know.
I watched Millie reach forward without hesitation, resting a steady hand on Savannah’s knee.
“Easy,” she whispered. “We’ve got you.”
Savannah winced. Her muscles were trembling already, and she hadn’t even moved her legs yet.
Ruth leaned over slightly. “We’re going to pivot your legs off the bed now. Nice and slow. Mr. Westbrook, watch her side. If she shifts too far, brace her back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Savannah took a few deep breaths, and with a little help from both of them, she managed to slide her legs over the edge of the bed.
Her feet hit the floor.
I’d seen people be strong for others before. But as I watched Savannah sit upright, pretending not to be in pain, it wasn’t strength I saw. Not really. It was something colder. Fire turning to ice.
People talk about being brave. About putting on a strong face.Fake it until you make it,that’s what they say. But this wasn’t bravery. This was instinct. A reflex born from pain.
Disguise, not denial.
